Parent's Weekend
A hunting tale.
Mickey grabbed a cold 12 ounce PBR from the small cooler next to his seat in the deer stand. It was 7:30 on a chilly fall morning and drinking up, he thought what a nice day this was going to be as he felt the alcohol begin to warm his belly. It looked to be one of those blue sky Fall days that start cool and end warm. One of those days where the anticipation of the blazing beauty to come was so real that it almost hurt and would soon light up the underside of the woods around him with reds and golds. He was rounding the corner on beer number two of a 12 pack and figured he would have these polished off before lunch. Mickey’s relationship with beer resembled an old friendship. He felt he could count on it when most everything else in his life had either been counted out or was about to be.
Sitting comfortably in his favorite tree stand, thinking about his life and watching the day unfold before him gave him peace and comfort. Not much else in his life gave him the hope that this did. Hunting was an excuse to escape to a corner of his mind where he could curl up into and be alone with his thoughts. Being outdoors in this little bit of wilderness right out his back door was joyful. It was a powerful reminder of the power of being in the present. Of course he wouldn’t admit that. He usually did everything he could to escape the present which always seemed to come with way too much baggage. But like a slowly simmering soup on the stove bubbled and purred on a cold day with a promise of comfort, being in the stand alone was a gentle percolating reminder to appreciate days like this for what they were. A present without strings or expectations. Lately he realized, his past was laced with regrets and his future littered with landmines.
The beer made it seem better in some way. The WCF’s (the White Coat Fuckers) had recently told him his liver didn’t have much liver left to give. He thought fatalistically that if there was anything he could do to hasten his demise he was all in. He was ready to go. He was bone tired of many things in his life and if he could do this one beer can at a time well then he’d go the distance, if that’s what it took.
An hour or so had gone by when suddenly he heard a twig snap off to the side. He felt the rush of adrenaline and his heart rate shot up. Turning his eyes to the left as far he could without moving his head he spotted the deer out of the corner of his eye. It was a buck with an impressive set of antlers. It looked like Shagfoot he thought, recognizing the animal. That was the nickname he and the guys gave to this veteran deer that they had spotted off and on during previous hunting seasons. The deer had a massive rack of antlers and and a pronounced limp. As he drew closer Mickey noticed the streak of white fur over his right eye mixed in with the gray on the rest of his face. It was definitely Shagfoot. The limp was probably from a poorly placed shot by another hunter a few years ago. Mickey figured the deer to be 6 or 7 years old and it looked like he would pass about 15 yards in front of his stand if he didn’t catch wind of him. Mickey slowly put his beer down, picked up the compound bow off his lap and waited. He was hoping for the deer to turn fully broadside to him and he waited quietly watching.
The deer walked behind a large maple tree about 10 yards from the stand and Mickey took the opportunity to knock an arrow and stand up slowly with his bow. The deer came out from behind the tree and stepped lightly towards him, and as he turned away to look at something he presented Mickey with a nice broadside shot. Mickey slowly drew the bow back concentrating on placing the 15 yard pin of his sight at a spot behind the animal’s right shoulder, just in front of the rib cage. He smoothly released the arrow and watched as the bright orange nock followed the arrow right to the spot he had aimed at. The deer briefly crumpled at the knees but then leapt up, running away from the stand.
It was at that same moment the Mother Mary Jude College Marching Band in the stadium 100 yards away from his deer stand launched into their arrangement of When the Saints Go Marching In. Standing in the bleachers alongside the rows of chairs on the field which were filling up with parents and family, Mickey could see the horn section of the band bobbing in unison to the song from his own stand in the woods.
It was the opening ceremony of Parents Weekend that took place on the second Saturday of every October. His deer stand was in a small 11 acre patch of woods that bordered the athletic field in a suburb of the large east coast city where the college was founded over 100 years ago by the Sisters of the Immaculate Consecration.
Mickey continued to watch from his stand as the mortally wounded deer ran out of his home patch of woods and bounded over a fence separating the woods from the school running across the neatly manicured college lawns. It leapt over some mylar Welcome Parents balloons and banners and onto the gravel path leading up to the field and the ceremony. Mickey saw the deer stumble as it lurched once, knees buckling as it fell over on its side under a large bush, panting. Mickey waited a few more minutes to make sure the deer was going to stay down. He then carefully hung his bow on a hook slightly above and behind his seat. He began to slowly climb down from his stand using the the attached ladder and stepped down from the last rung to the ground He unclipped from his safety harness and let it dangle on the rope suspended from above. Taking a deep breath he slowly began to make his way towards the downed deer. This is going to be one for the books, he thought.
Approaching the deer, he noticed a large pool of blood gathering underneath the fallen animal. Parents and family, brothers and sisters from Upper Line and nearby suburbs walked quickly and nervously around the fallen deer to get to the ceremony further ahead on the path. Most of the adults pretended not to notice and pasted on a blank gaze, similar to one they might use when a homeless beggar with his makeshift cardboard sign approached them on the street asking for money. The children however, took in all the stark reality of what was happening as it unfolded on the ground in front of them with wide and fascinated eyes. To the youngsters this was real in a way that they had never experienced before. They were quickly hurried past the now still animal as the terrified parents thought about the scene right in front of them. Terrified not so much about what was actually unfolding on the gravel path but more about what in the hell they were going to tell their kids when they started in with the questions. Mickey thought I’ll bet no one takes a selfie as he stood looking from the people to the children to the deer and back, not knowing what was more interesting, the actual scene or the reaction to it he was witnessing. He stood out from the khakis and polo shirts walking past and thought as he was the only one in camo, it was obvious that he was the author of this drama. He knelt by the dying deer and waited silently as the last remaining spark of life slowly drained from the animal’s eyes, grateful that it was a clean shot.
His two buddies walked up a few minutes later and stood next to him. Also in hunting camo they had responded to his text and met him on the path. No one spoke. They had been hunting together for 20 years and no words were needed at this point. In silence they looked at each other then at the deer and then at the line of people filing past them. Most everyone was doing anything to avoid the hunter’s gaze.
A few minutes later a Security Officer from the college came trotting up the path towards them. They could all see him speaking something into a radio mike clipped at his shoulder but they were too far away to make out what he was saying. They could see his face was flushed and red and heard his was puffing the closer he got. He was a young guy maybe 25 years old with an uneven beard and a belt full of gear that tugged heavily at his uniform pants. Coming to a stop near the group, he nervously took in the scene in front of him looking around for anyone else to be in charge. Finding no one that fit the bill other than himself he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. They all watched not as spectators but perhaps more like priests around a deathbed and after a few moments the uniformed young man finally spoke. “Who is responsible for this ?” he asked. “If you mean who shot this deer then that would be me, Mickey said. “We can be out of your hair if you just give us a few minutes. We can drag the animal into the woods and finish dressing it up there.” I would like the meat, Mickey thought to himself, however a large gut pile right here on the college lawn might put a further damper on the festivities.
The parents and family who had been witness to the scene now in the seats up ahead on the field listened attentively to the music, read the program or laughed conspicuously, anything to block out the scene behind them. The little children ‘s heads however were on a swivel, turning back to look at what they had just come by as the parents fought a losing battle to direct their attention to the front of the stadium.
The group of men around the deer stood quietly waiting for permission from the security guard. Keying his mic to off, the guard said “That is not going to happen, he told them, as this animal is now the property of the Gulph Township Police.” Thankful that his supervisor had finally responded back to him and more thankful that he could just follow orders instead of having to give them.
Mickey felt sorry for the kid, and hoped this wouldn’t turn him off to a career in law enforcement or campus security if that is what he wanted to do with his life. Mickey couldn’t see him wanting to hunt. After a few moments his buddies took a picture of Mickey kneeling down next to his deer. Looking at the camera, Mickey thought that the telling and retelling of this story would go nicely with the remaining beers in his cooler. All three of the hunters turned back and left the campus stepping quietly, soon blending into the woods.
Welcome, the announcement echoed, bouncing off the buildings. Luncheon will be served in the Commons Dining room across the quad in the Payton Building beginning at 11:30 AM. We have a full agenda planned for this beautiful Fall weekend. Until then feel free to wander around our campus. Make sure you thank the grounds staff who have worked so hard to make everything extra special for your visit this weekend.
Mickey heard the announcement as he entered the woods and walked back towards his stand. There was 1 more week of deer season left. Perhaps he’d try the other spot on the north end of the property near the apple tree Monday morning.
An arrow in the side, he thought. Preferably in his liver. He wondered if one of his buddies would do that for him if he asked. Of course not. No definitely not. He did have another case of 12 ounce “beer arrows” he thought wryly, back in the truck. They weren’t as quick as a well placed real arrow but they should do the job just as well. Just take a bit longer. He might even get another season in next year. Maybe he would just keel over in his stand during a hunting season. He would like that. This year would be hard to beat though. Perhaps he could hope for a special Homecoming Weekend next year, he thought smiling to himself.