I sighted my target down the barrel. I knew I had to be accurate with this shot. If I missed, my prey would scurry away. If I hit...well...it would be a nice night. There was movement behind some leaves. A male slowly walked from behind a tree. He was a decent size, not too big or small.
Here's the thing: bag yourself a big one and you'll have a bitch of a time getting it back to your truck. Bag yourself a small one and you're wasting your tag. The one I had in my sights was an excellent size.
From my treestand I knew he couldn't see me. He was absolutely oblivious to my presence. That's the thrill I derive from being out here. Here he is, minding his own business and then bam. His life is completely changed. Based on where I shoot him he's feeling like he can't catch his breath or he can't run away because his foot is dragging. Or. Or he doesn't feel anything whatsoever. That's the one I'm hoping for. So.
I focus everything on this shot. I slow my breathing. He is still grazing. I breathe in and aim carefully. I then slowly depress the trigger. There is a deafening noise in the forest. He drops, it's a clean shot. I chamber another round and sigh with happiness as I slowly climb from my treestand. I'm hoping that when I get to him he'll be dead.
He isn't. His mouth is frothing with blood. I deposit another round in his head and he dies with a jerk. Looking down at him, he really isn't as good a catch as I originally thought. It doesn't matter though, I've got to tag him. I pull out my tag, cut a slit in his ear and loop it through. I then truss him up with a rope and drag him back to my treestand. I break down my treestand and pack away my rifle. I then begin the long process of dragging everything to my truck. I heft his body up into the bed of my truck with a grunt. I cover his body with a blanket and then start the truck. It's time to get out of this forest with my haul before night falls.
After 5 minutes of driving I get to the ranger's station. I stop and roll down the window. The ranger walks up and asks for my permit. I hand it to him and ask, "How's your night going?".
He glances at me and then looks back at the permit. He replies, "Well enough. Did you tag out tonight?"
"Yes sir. You check the bed. He's back there," I answer.
He nods and walks to the back of the truck. He starts to lift the blanket to check the body. His bald head glistens in the moonlight from the head shot. "Nice sized one you got back here. Quality's a bit shoddy but otherwise, he's pretty good." He pulls out his pen and signs his initials on my permit. He walks back to my window and hands me back my permit. "Son, hope to see you out here next year for fish hunting season."
I smile at him, grinning from ear to ear. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."