My older brother is cool. He often included me in his interests. Whether it was my thing or not he made it exciting. Early in the morning and early in the season he had his bow calibrated and he was ready to go deer hunting.
Being two city kids transferred into the country, I’m not sure we knew how to bag a deer. We found an area that seemed clear of “no trespassing” signs. We didn’t see anyone in the tree stands on our way in. We tried to walk quietly. All you could hear was our cold breath forming a fog in front of us. My brother had scouted the spot out and had a particular place in mind. We climbed into our post. It was calm for the first hour. Nothing moved.
At the edge of the forest was a cornfield, perfect for deer to bed down or hide. My brother asked if I would go around the field and try to flush anything out. I trusted him, but I didn’t want any accidents. He assured me that all I had to do was rattle some corn leaves at the far end of the field, leave my scent away from our hangout, if possible, and then wait until he whistled the all clear. Sure enough, I roused a deer, but it was a little guy. It ran off unharmed. We waited and then tried again. Nothing.
Several attempts later I chased two different deer out at different times. He zipped an arrow right over the first and again over the second. The same thing happened the next week we went out and the week after that. He was sure he had sighted his bow correctly, but then he learned that it needed to be sighted differently to shoot from a stand. He was missing by the same distance each time, only a foot or so. The season ended without seeing more deer. We did see a scary coyote, however, scurrying about aimlessly underneath us, which made me wonder why I had been wandering around on the ground.