Deer hunting season is upon us. While authentic hunters take to the field looking for deer and “sign” of deer, a few less-than-authentic hunters take to country roads and drive around, spooling out dust from their tires, and hoping to chance upon deer from the lower end of the gene pool just standing there beside the road someplace.
I live on one of those country roads.
I see a lot of road hunters
throughout the season. A few hundred
yards from my house, the hunters driving our spur road encounter the open
prairie and a clear view of my house.
For those savvy enough to understand section maps, they also recognize
this as the boundary for a section of state land and the point where private property
holdings begin.
Something of a turn-around spot
develops there every hunting season. I
see plenty of rigs flipping around during the season. Night before last, as darkness fell, a hunter
stopped there for a while with headlights fixed on my house. Eventually, the rig cranked around and
climbed away through the juniper and pine.
Yesterday morning, on an early
morning walk, I found sign of the hunter.
A beer can. I have posted a
photograph of the can with my house far off in the background.
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