The sun sparkled through the trees, its ray bright and blinding. She would have to remember not to look that direction. With its low setting, a temporary blindness would be devastating.

She tried to still the rapid beats of her heart. Lugging a gun up and down three ridges would have been hard enough, but she was also decked head to toe in clothing that was made for its warmth, not weight.

She grappled with the weapon in her hand, going through the mental checklist. A bullet was in the chamber. Check. Safety was off. Well, almost. It was halfway off, and she decided to leave it that way for the moment. Better safe than sorry.

The grass was still wet with dew and she was thankful for the bulk of her pants. It would keep the cold from her skin. She’d forgotten her gloves and was wishing for a hat with a brim about now. However, she’d opted for the fleece snow cap and was thankful for the warmth.

Minutes ticked by and her breathing leveled to a calm and steady pace. The forest and fields were silent, a clear indication that the animals were still aware of her presence. She sank down between the blackberry brush on the hill and forced herself to be still. Ever careful of the sharp thorns on the brambles, she rested the gun silently on one knee.

And she waited.

Her eyes roved the landscape, peering through the trees about fifty yards away. Her ears attuned themselves to every little sound. An acorn fell in the dried wet leaves and a squirrel scampered from tree to tree.

A screeching rang in her head and overhead a silver hawk glided through the sky, making its presence known. In the deafening silence of only moments before, the noise grated like a siren in the busy city streets.

Pins and needles jabbed through one leg, and with no choice but to move she shifted her weight. She checked the scope again. Finding the correct balance was difficult. She found that if she pressed the butt of the gun against her shoulder and hugged it to her cheek, she could see clearly, otherwise her vision caught the black inside edges rendering her eyes useless. Mental note.

And she waited some more.

If this were a true hunt, she’d be tucked in a tree or hidden behind dense shrubs. But today was a deer drive. Her husband and friends were stealthily tromping, okay not so silently nor so stealthily, through the woods from the opposite side of her pushing the deer out to the open. All she had to do was wait and ambush them as they busted out of the forest.

She was the predator today. Her rifle was loaded with deadly bullets and she’d dressed in camoflauge and a neon orange vest. She’d drawn the line at face paint. She crouched in position on the side of a ridge and as far as she could see was nature. No power lines marred the landscape and no houses dotted the fields.

The morning was beautiful and if she didn’t have to keep her sense on such full alert, she would succumb to its languidness.

But she waited.

She stretched her gaze as far as possible, searching for the orange vests and two-legged creatures. Shooting her partners was not part of the plan and safety always came first. Surely they would have trodden through the dense forage by now. She had no clock, but the sun was rising higher in the sky. An hour had passed? It was her best guess.

Leaves shuffled. Her heart hammered in her chest. She pulled the gun to her cheek and closed one eye. The hunted or the hunters?

They came, meandering carefully through the underbrush. There were four of them. All brown and graceful. They stopped at the edge of the trees and she sighted in on them.

The trigger clicked and she cursed herself for not removing the safety. She pushed it into the engaged position.

The deer ran toward her and she lost sight of them as they crossed the bottom of the hill. She pulled back from the gun and there they were. She pulled the trigger.

Boom.

They kept running, two veered off behind her and the other two raced toward the next ridge. She leveled the scope again, forgetting to breathe. Her hands trembled and she tried hard to keep her gun rested on her elbow propped up with her knee.

Steady, steady. They were running so fast, it was hard to keep them in sight. Then just before they crested the hill, the does stopped.

She lined up the cross-hairs again and squeezed her finger. The shot echoed through the valley and the deer disappeared over the hill.

Another miss.

She watched them cross a fence and disappear into the cold, still morning. A beautiful sight and she knew that they would be back to play another day.

***

This was a fairly accurate account of my Saturday morning. I hope that it wasn’t too graphic for those of you who are non-hunters. I’m not much of one myself, obviously, but I do enjoy deer meat and if I’m going to eat it, I feel that it is only responsible that I should be able to kill it too. I wish that I had picture to share with you of this morning hunt, however, like my words, they would in no way do the beauty of God’s creation justice.

The heavens declare the glory of God, all nature is filled with his majesty…

Your turn: What hobby do you have that seems out of character to those who first meet you? Have you ever been hunting?