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: I'm happy because on Saturday (10/25/08) I shot a deer (with bow), but a little sad because it will be the last one ever at my inlaws' farm because they sold it this fall. I've been bow hunting there for 13 years, and taken eight or nine animals. This most recent was notable not just because it will be the last one on this property but because of the special help I had in tracking the animal. This is not the first time I've had such help, and it's the kind of help many other hunters have enjoyed over many millenia. : Hunting for me (especially bow hunting) is a spiritual experience. Don't get me wrong. I'm not some secular humanist 'at one with the cosmos.' It's just that quiet hunting removes the usual distractions of a busy life and provides me the opportunity to meditate and sort of 'reconnect' with my God in a way that communal worship sometimes lacks. This past hunt, I basically had three things to do: look for deer, meditate, and suppress a bad cough. My meditation usually consists of praying for success - per God's will, of course; And, even if I am not successful, I express my gratitude for the opportunity to take place in "the hunt," the hope that I MIGHT get a deer. This participation in an activity in which few members of the general population can understand or appreciate is a blessing. : Anyway, I was in the stand by 3:15PM. At 6:15PM, two does and their fawns approached my stand from the south and began foraging, some directly beneath me. After shooting one of the does (10-yd chip shot), the other three animals remained for another 15 minutes, milling about. I've got some videos on my phone, but I'll have to figure out how to upload them. The doe bolted to the northwest. At 7:00PM I pursued it, thinking I'd find it 50-60 yds N-NW of my position. Keep in mind it was pitch dark by 7:00. Without my flashlight, I couldn't see the ground at my own feet. I found the arrow buried five inches in the ground and covered with lots of bright red blood. I couldn't find any blood on the ground though. I looked for blood in all the usual places where deer pass through my area. Nothing. As I was checking a common fence crossing about 100 yds to the north, I heard a voice in my head, "Go back to where you shot the deer, and look for the blood trail." It was as if someone was shouting at me. Compelled to do so, I returned to the point of impact, and picked up the smallest of blood drops. I followed the blood to the northwest for 70 yards where I lost the trail. This forced me back to looking for blood along the north fence another 80 yards away where there is a common crossing place. Again I heard the voice "You're in the wrong place!" Once again, I went to the last known blood, and after a lot of time on my hands and knees, I found the blood trail, and followed it into the corn field. This was great news because the corn had not yet been harvested. This meant there would be lots of blood on the leaves which of course are very light brown. Tracking a lung-shot deer in unpicked corn is so easy. Only snow is easier. After another 300 yards, and a couple lost trails, requiring some backtracking, the dead animal appeared in the blackness just as my flashlight was on it's last few minutes of life. : By 10:00PM, the beast was dressed and loaded on my car. It now hangs in my garage, waiting to be butchered next Sunday. With gratitude and a sense of privledge, my family and I will enjoy the tenderloins some time this week.

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