A Picture-Perfect Night in the Tree Stand

A view of the West Marsh -- looking W/NW -- from one of my favorite perches
(as always, click to enlarge to enjoy more of the detail)

It's amazing how perspective changes 16' off the ground. This might be especially true in marsh country, where topography changes are just as often measured in inches rather than feet. But as a deer hunter who has spent countless hours each autumn for decades now in a tree stand, I can attest that it really doesn't matter where you are, if you are up in the air.

Last evening was one of those unanticipated but memorable nights on this remarkable land. A full morning of meetings in Sandusky fostered some pretty exciting discussions about the possibility of future improvements not only to our site, but to neighboring land and water. Roy and I then reconvened back at the bunkhouse to talk through the details of a tree planting effort that is slated to happen around our field office this weekend (more on that in a post hopefully early next week). He then gave me just the nudge I needed to get suited up for my first official deer hunt of the season. I was on the fence about going (so much to do), but boy am I glad I went.

My preferred shooting window; never a bad way to spend an autumn afternoon
(note Phrag patch in the upper-left, as mentioned below)

While last night's hunt took place about two months later in the season than it would have four kids ago, it was worth the wait. [Spoiler alert: I never released an arrow. But it was still just what I needed.]

I have found real rejuvenation in sitting quietly in the elements, especially -- for whatever reason -- when it's cold. Fishing and hunting are often my chosen means to put "some extra fresh air on my face," as I like to say. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I loved the heart-thumping anticipation associated with the approaching movement in the nearby Phragmites stand that methodically started five minutes after I sat down. There is not much better than intensely watching and listening to nature.

And of course, I loved seeing the six deer that walked unknowingly beneath my statued gaze -- first, two does and two yearlings at ~60 yards, then (<5 minutes later) a seasonally-excited 4-point buck in hot pursuit, and finally (just before sunset), a mature 8-point.

The view over my right shoulder just as the sunset is hitting a golden mulberry and a sea of autumn dogwoods --
truly awesome!

But what I maybe like most of all about deer hunting is the quiet and the solitude. I love observing nature being natural. I also love that my brain can quiet itself, and decide whether it wants to think about a challenge at work, a situation on the home front, or whether or not it's a rabbit, a squirrel, or a 10-point buck creeping up behind me. I get to choose.

I have come to use my time in the stand not only as an avenue to put choice protein in the freezer while culling a population that has unintentionally ballooned way beyond its carrying capacity in much of Ohio. I also use it as a means to really focus on the things most important in my life.

I bring my personal intentions to the tree and try to think hard and long for all those people and things in need of the most prayer. But the thoughts come more easily somehow in a tree stand. Over the last couple seasons, I've tried to really focus on one particular person each time out. Last night, it was an aunt, who passed away earlier this week. She died as gracefully as she lived for more than 86 years. And like every other way she touched my life, my interaction last night was yet another beautiful gift. I know it is my second informal memorial in as many weeks, but thank you, Aunt Mary Jo. You will truly be missed.