My husband is a hunter. He loves everything about the sport – the gear, the strategy, the outdoors, the camaraderie, and, yes, the throwback to a simpler, more primitive connection to mother earth and nature’s foodchain. Yet, among all of the aspects of the sport, his favorite part is being in a stand as the sun comes up and the woods come alive. He calls it the “changing of the guard,” when the nocturnal creatures move back into their little nests, burrows and caves and the creatures of the day stir awake.
Even twenty-five years into our relationship, hunting remains somewhat a mystery to me. Shooting loud guns, stalking prey, climbing trees, and sitting on boards precariously perched twenty-feet above the ground is simply not my idea of a “good time.” So, most of the time, I remain home and support my great hunter by providing congratulatory comments and enjoying the free-range, organic meat that he kills for us.
My friend Connie, on the other hand, embraces deer hunting so that she may spend more time with her husband with impressive vigor and, sometimes, seems to enjoy it as much as her partner. She says her favorite place to hunt is the Barber’s Chair Stand – a stand made from an old barber’s chair affixed in a big metal box high up in a hardwood on a South Carolina farm. The stand has many amenities making it uniquely comfortable. First, the chair still functions, allowing the user to recline, if so desired. The stand also sports a roof, in this case, made of old dumpster lids with grooves that allow rain to run off, and screening, again, in this case, old trampoline material attached with zip ties, that surrounds the chair to conceal movement. One day, while our husbands are off on a hunt, Connie and I sit in her living room, sipping wine and speaking of our dreams. I say “I want to do something different, something which will be important for others.” I say “Sometimes I find it difficult to see through the dark, to blaze my own trail.” Without skipping a beat, Connie says “You need some bright eyes.” “What are bright eyes?” I ask.
And she explains, “That’s how you find your deer stand in the dark – bright eyes – small dots tacked to the trees. They glow a bright orangey-red when you shine a flash light on them – like runway lights.”
I am fascinated. "Tell me more."
"Well on the farm, you get up early in the morning – 5 am. You crawl out of bed, throw on your layers of camouflage, down a cup of coffee, make sure your backpack has snacks and water, and then head into the woods on your four-wheeler. Before you get to the trailhead, you stop, sequester your vehicle in a concealed location, and quietly… open your backpack and spray doe pee on the bottom of your boots."
What?
"To cover your scent, of course….or that of any other humans, dogs, or other smells you may have picked up.”
Again, I am fascinated.
Connie continues. “So, it’s pitch black. You walk the 100 yards where you know the trail begins – using a miner's light strapped to your head. You find the first set of bright eyes – the ones that mark the trail to the sand ridge. Then follow the trail for about 50 yards and cross over the sand ridge to a wood line – where the thick forest begins. From there you know the trail meanders."
"It can be confusing in the dark. You also know there are certain type of oak trees that will eat you alive if you get caught in them.”
"So what to you do?" I ask.
“Well, you stand at the sand ridge and look for the second set of bright eyes..But, it’s dark...And you’re a girl...and your scared. There are noises. And things that seem to be moving all around you,… even though there’s nothing there. And even though you have a rifle that is loaded, you’re still a girl… that smells like doe pee…during the rut, and all you want is to be in your stand 15 feet off the ground where nothing can reach you.” “Unfortunately, the bright eyes are 20 yards to the right and you’re afraid to move. So, you stand there clutching your rifle until the sun comes up so you can make your way to the stand that is only 50 feet away from you. And you think, you dumb ass – you should have stayed in bed.”
I think of my conversation with Connie often. I smile when I think of my girly friend dressed in full hunting gear and imagine her newly-pedicured toes warm and cozy in those big clunky boots. I think of blazing trails and of bright eyes that help us find our way through the dark. And, I remind myself that when unsure of the next step, just to wait a little bit, and the light will guide us instead.
