The Snow Deer
By
Bruce goodrow
Dawn broke slowly and reluctantly that late November morning. It was as if the light in the eastern sky had no desire to confront the "Blue Norther" which had moved into the Texas Panhandle during the night. The
wind was raw and unrelenting with gusts of over forty miles per hour accompanied by blinding sheets of snow driven with the force of a sand blaster. The accumulated snow formed huge misshapen drifts that effectively
blocked all East to West roads surrounding the ranch.
The cacophony of the alarm clock was totally unnecessary for the deer hunter had long been awake listening to the fury of the storm. It was a morning best
suited for hot black coffee and sitting around the ranch house heater. By 9 A.M. it was evident that Mother Nature had not the slightest intent to diminish her onslaught so it was either snow bound cabin fever
or deer hunt in spite of it all.
Deer hunt won! The wisdom of this decision can long be debated but it was Texas and it was rut. The deer hunter donned every available stitch of
clothing—double wool socks, goose down underwear, layers of sweaters, coveralls, ear muffs, mittens, and a hefty supply of Hot Hands. The roads had long since been rendered impassible so it left only the 4
wheel drive cattle path up over the buttes. The buttes had taken the full impact of the gale force winds and almost all snow had been blown down to the canyons and prairies below. The cattle trail was
frozen as hard as concrete but it had been scoured clean of snow and proved to be an easy access to the hunting areas below. Limited visibility and dangerous wind chills dictated that a prudent hunter should
stick to the narrow canyons, dry washes, and shelter belts.
The hunter had selected an area which held numerous small Osage and Locust trees along a depression which ran from North to South and afforded some
respite from the blinding snow and bone chilling cold. The visibility was no more than 15 to 20 yards depending on the wind gusts which produced a minus seven wind chill. To say that he had little faith that he
would see a deer or any other living creature was a mild understatement.
Early in the season he made a commitment that he would hunt only with a bow and this day was no exception. The location he
selected was more about reducing the impact of the elements than about optimal bow hunting. The shelter belt which he had chosen did not contain a single tree large enough to use a tree stand. The absence
of a tree stand is not a critical issue in the middle of a Texas blizzard; that storm would have blown him into Oklahoma if he had been crazy enough to ascend even the best of tree stands! After cleaning out an
area on the ground near an uprooted locust tree, he sat down where he could lean back comfortably against the root mass. Within minutes the hunter was invisible; snow had covered him from head to toe!
The multiple layers of clothing performed well above expectations and he remained comfortably warm with the exception of the end of his nose and his feet. It quickly became apparent that the boots were
inadequate and would not provide any realistic long term protection in the extreme cold and wind. Tingling toes and screaming nerve endings would rapidly become the center of his universe!
Because he had
already been out for an hour and had not seen as much as a single frozen bird, the hunter almost decided that it would be in his best interest to head back to the ranch and consume vast quantities of hot coffee.
Suddenly, out of the swirling snow darted three does and a yearling. They proceeded to move about nervously but did little more than glance his way on several occasions. The high winds were in his favor and to
his amazement the does soon bedded down within 10 yards of where he sat in full view.
The bedded does were like magnets; within only a few minutes the shelterbelt was alive with deer. A young six point
came into view and did his best to make life miserable for the does who were more interested in getting out of the wind than they were in any amorous activity that the buck had to offer. The hunter's visibility
had improved to about 20 yards when he observed a much larger shape materializing out of the swirling snow. It was a third again bigger than the six point and was headed directly towards the other deer.
The
six point backed away from the larger animal almost immediately so the hunter surmised that these two had met before and already settled any lingering issue of dominance. Due to the blowing snow and the buck's
constant motion, he could not get an accurate point count. The Snow Buck began moving directly in front of him at about 20 yards. By now, the hunter's feet were frozen making it impossible to hold still much
longer, so he knew that he had better try a shot soon. As he prepared to move for the shot he wondered if the old buck had any idea of the improbable events that had led to this chance encounter in the
epicenter of a Texas blizzard.
Many seasons had passed without undo intrusion or danger to the old buck. He had long since learned that the darkness of the Texas night and the harshness of winter storms
afforded him both freedom and safety. Time had both blessed and cursed the large whitetail; his once magnificent 14 point rack had passed like a whisper in the night wind. He still sported an enviable set
of horns but they had been reduced to 10 points and were becoming gnarled at the bases. His body had grown heavy and the grey in his muzzle had increased dramatically over the past several seasons.
Even
as a dark shadow in the kaleidoscope of blowing snow he was still a remarkable animal yet the challenges to his once sole reign seemed to increase with each passing day. Other bucks appeared bolder than years past
and the constant sparring and fighting took an ever greater toll on his energies.
Snow Deer had learned the art of survival from birth and many of the lessons were fraught with memories of fear and
pain. The deer still carried two scars from episodes when he had not yet been as secretive and selective as was his current nature and existence. The first near miss had almost ended his days when he was
but 2 years old. He owed his life to the vagrancies of a light bullet fired from a 243 at long range and into a high West Texas wind. A shot that could have proven fatal was off the mark and only grazed his
chest while effectively shaving many of his white brisket hairs. The second dance with death had occurred when he was 4 years old and had grown an impressive ten point spread. That occasion resulted in his
being sprayed with small bullet fragments from a 7 MM. Only a mesquite limb had been between him and a new home mounted on a Tennessee wall!
As seasons passed, Snow Deer had learned to avoid danger and
to alter his daily routines; he had become totally unpredictable. He traveled only under the cover of darkness and used his extensive knowledge of the terrain to ease his invisible passage.
The last few
years had witnessed a subtle but distinct change in the old deer's Texas habitat; the vile scent of man had seemed to increase geometrically. His nightly passages had told him that more and more human scent had
invaded his private landscape. Instinct led him to change his personal bedding and feeding areas to a section of the county which was more remote and virtually devoid of human presence.
The buck
made the move without incident and became totally familiar with each dry wash, canyon, and ridge line in his domain. He learned that storms provided a unique opportunity to roam into new areas with little
chance of human encounter, so the November blizzard was the perfect time to locate a few more receptive does. However, the Snow Deer had no premonition that this day would be his last.
As the large buck
loomed ever closer to the bedded does, the hunter eased his fingers out of the shooting slot in the mittens and imperceptibly raised the bow into shooting position. The old whitetail never noticed that the
"snowman" was slowly moving. Snow Hunter released the arrow at about 18 yards but could neither see nor hear the impact due to the ferocity of the storm. The deer whirled and immediately disappeared into a
vast white nothingness. The hunter was not sure if the arrow had found its mark. Perhaps Snow Deer had merely bolted upon hearing the foreign sound of the release or sensed a human presence at the last possible
moment.
Waiting for at least 30 minutes before attempting to verify a shot was the hunter's usual protocol. But because his feet were freezing and the snow was falling and blowing enough to cover any track in
a matter of minutes, he got up, shook off his concealing blanket of snow, then walked over to where the deer had been standing when he released the arrow.
Clearly, there in the snow was a wide blood trail;
the 4 bladed broad head had done its work. As the hunter followed the crimson spore, so vivid against the pure white of the newly fallen snow, he soon recovered his arrow lying on the frozen ground. The
old buck had only traveled 35 yards and lay dead at the edge of a thicket. The unexpected encounter was an appropriate ending for Snow Deer and provided the Snow Hunter with another treasured memory that he
would cherish when the time came when he could hunt no more.
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