At Evening's Edge

When his boots hit the ground, the freshly fallen snow betrayed his presence with a slight crunch under foot. Pivoting from the ladder to the towline dangling from the stand he quietly unlatched his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder as his Mama descended the ladder behind him.

It was nearly 6pm, cloudy, and dusk was just beginning to set in around them. Restless from a day of hunting and with a slight and persistent mist in the air, Charlie coaxed his Mama from the tree, "We should go sit on the power lines."  Given Charlie's growing inability to sit still and the resulting cacophony of sound emanating from the old plywood stand, his Mama happily obliged. 

The power lines bisect the northern part of the property, stretching over a half-mile long and almost two-thirds of a football field wide- the perfect vantage for a boy and a rifle. Together they crossed the open expanse traveling southward up a slight hill to a stand of fallen Pines.

Five minutes or so had passed since they had taken their perch, nearly an eternity when your eleven years old.  Charlie was looking to the right, while his Mama was scanning to the left when a deer emerged from the far side of the woods, "Charlie, there's a deer!", his Mama whispered enthusiastically.

Charlie raised his rifle finding that his scope had fogged over obstructing his view completely. Quickly cleaning the condensation away, Charlie shouldered his Mama's old rifle and waited patiently for the perfect opportunity.

As the deer made it's way across the open field it halted in mid-stride, staring directly at the unlikely duo at the edge of the Pines. Charlie didn't give his query time to think about it's predicament and pulled the trigger. A crisp shot echoed through the country side.  In a panic the deer lurched forward and began rushing directly at them!

Charlie quickly lowered his rifle as he rose to his feet, being a left-handed shooter with a right-handed bolt action can make the second shot a bit of a challenge. Following his grandpa's advice, Charlie aimed five feet in front of the approaching animal and when his scope filled with brown he fired a second time. 

The six point buck tumbled dead to the ground and with that, Charlie took his first deer from the land that we call Buckwood, penning his own chapter amidst the the Pines and the Popple.