Beaver Moon Deer Hunt: Part 1

“Hey, are you going to show up or what?” N.F. waited for an answer and I told him I would show up if nothing went wrong around the house and Mom had someone to help her over the weekend.

Friday afternoon I found myself stuck on the Cross Bronx making my trek to the Ulster County border with Orange County. When I finally got to N.F.’s, just outside the landing zone (ET’s), I found Fred and Ricky sucking down cold brew from a freshly tapped keg in N.F.’s barn.

“So you showed up”, said Fred after swallowing down some brew. “Yeah, I figure I’ll give it a go, hope this year you figured out how to use that rifle Fred.” “Run around in the woods for me RJ and let me see if I figured it out.”

“Be nice everybody, said N.F. (now sporting a full beard to go with his flowing hair and pony tail) this year we’re going to use a game plan and follow up on some of that fire discipline and fire control stuff RJ talked about last year. This year we are going to take several deer.”

Elly cooked up a wonderful dinner of venison stew and homemade biscuits while we conspired on how to divide up the hunting grounds. While dinner was going on the labs barked fiercely as another soul appeared at the door. To everybody’s surprise it was Bernie (Bernie is a survivalist, hunter, NRA life member, gun expert and knife expert). After we all greeted each other N.F. said “Glad your going hunting with us this year, your expertise will be a great help.”

Bernie looked at N.F. and said “I’m not going with you guys, I’ll never get a deer with you clowns around me. Tell me N.F., is that pack of coyotes still moving up and down the farms and fields.” N.F., still shocked by Bernie’s response said “Yeah, but they stay mostly in the woods on the other side of the landing zone.” Bernie said, “I spoke to Old Man Gallagher and your crazy neighbor Jimbo N.F., and they gave me permission to stalk the whole south west end of the landing zone.”

“You think your gonna get deer down there Bernie? Your nuts, no one has been able to get anything around the stream or the wood line in the last five years” said N.F. as he cracked open a bottle of Old No. 7. Bernie said, “I think I can get to them, I reconnoitered the area and found that there is a herd of deer with at least two big bucks, I’m gonna take at least one.” “Fine” said N.F. “we’re hunting at Lucky’s.” Bernie stayed the night after a gear and weapons inventory and setup for the morning hunt.

I walked out of the house for a few minutes to take in some night air as the Beaver Moon lit up ranches, farms and fields. I said a prayer for safety and went back inside, staged my gear and prepared for the morning.

I thought about how much pressure has been on hunters over the years, pressure from the state, pressure from the tree huggers and the nature lovers who say ‘leave Bambi alone’. This year the DEC noted the marked increase in the deer population and the need to ‘thin out the herd.’

It was the night side of the coming day when I went downstairs to gear up, it was 0’darkthirty in the morning. Bernie was going out the door when we heard the coyotes howl in the distance. Bernie smiled and said “see you later” as he disappeared into the predawn darkness with his M1 Garand slung over his back. I got in the car with N.F., Fred and Ricky and headed toward where the waters of the kill run under the bridge.

“We’ve been hunting and never got a deer in the morning, always the afternoon. I hope that changes today” said N.F. as we pulled into Lucky’s grove, we got our gear and rifles and went to the blinds and tree stands, waiting for the deer to show up at dawn. I spotted a doe with a frail young fawn following closely. Everybody left them alone. Nothing else showed up. We headed back to the house. I decided not to go back out to Lucky’s. I got sick from medication taken with rum.

As I sat in the kitchen waiting for a wave of nausea to hit me so I could go on with my life and pass out Bernie came in, the legs of his overalls were covered with blood. “Bernie are you OK?” I stared at him in horror as he replied, “RJ, calm down, it’s not my blood.” Bernie got Elly to fix him a nice turkey and swiss sandwich when he filled me in on the details. “RJ, I tracked the coyotes before dawn, found a hiding place and waited. Sure enough a buck is in my sights.

Then I get surrounded by three coyotes as the others stalk my buck, I shot the buck and proceeded to shoot the coyotes. I didn’t get all the coyotes but I know they’ll be back for the entrails of the deer.”

“Bernie, you gutted that deer not accounting for the other coyotes or coy dogs in the area? Weren’t you a little scared?” “Fuck no RJ, ‘Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, because I am the fucking evil in the valley.' After I finish this sandwich, I’m gonna skin and dress my meat.”

“What about the dead coyotes Bernie?” “They’re dead RJ, what about ‘em.? Old Man Gallagher’s field hands are taking care of the carcasses.” Bernie finished up his meal and went out to finish up his buck. About then the wave of nausea I was waiting for hit and I got my stomach back in order with a piece of aged ginger from Elly. Then I got a call from N.F., “I am Bwana, again I have proved my prowess as a great hunter, I got a six pointer…Lucky is hauling my buck back in his humvee.”

“Yes Kee Mo Sabe, you can hang up your buck next to Bernie’s.” “RJ, Bernie got a buck?” “Yeah Kee Mo Sabe. Bwana will see psycho killer when he shows up with his buck.” “OK see you in a few RJ.”

When N.F. showed up Bernie’s deer was nowhere to be found. He gutted, skinned, dressed, chopped and quartered his prize, wrapped it and put it in his truck (he tagged it too). Bernie took off into the afternoon light back to the tree line, looking for something else to kill.

N.F. didn’t quite get through gutting his buck when he noticed that his shot broke the bucks backbone. (N.F. caught the buck mounting a doe and shot him from a tree stand at about 85 yards) N.F. was worried he would mess up his buck. N.F. went walking down to the tree line to find Bernie. This didn’t take long, the sun was going down and Bernie was on his way uphill, back to the house. N.F. explained the problem to Bernie who then finished gutting the deer with cold and swift efficiency.

As Bernie did things with a knife that you only see in old westerns or exotic reality gourmet shows on the Discovery Channel, Elly took a phone call from Ricky, he shot the doe that was being mounted by N.F’s buck. He was on his way back in N.F.’s car with the Bambette tied to the roof. As Bernie finished up with N.F.’s buck, Ricky pulled up with his doe. N.F. wanted to take his deer to Desertos, a processor of hunted game, from bucks to bears, they butcher, prepare and package your kill for a fee.

Bernie didn’t mind one way or the other, he was having fun with his knives and he was covered in deer blood. Ricky was happy but nervous, this was the first deer he ever gutted (he didn’t do it at Lucky’s because he didn’t really know how). Bernie said, “come here Ricky, I’m gonna help you out, I’m gonna show you how to do this.” Bernie pulled out a long thin, ultra sharp blade with a hook type end on it, put it in Ricky’s hand and guided Ricky’s through gutting the doe.

Ricky turned colors as the smell of the intestines, stomach and organs wafted in the cold brisk air of a still clear night under the Beaver Moon.

Ricky was fighting through the gross and nasty mess of gutting a deer that had its insides accidently cut by the knife Bernie gave him to do the dirty deed, so when Bernie saw he cut the gut, he got Ricky nastier, getting deer shit on him along with the blood. Eventually they got the doe spic and span, ready for the trip to Desertos.

After Bernie got the shooters through their blood baptism, dealing with difficult or introductory gutting he got cleaned up in the barn and then joined us (Lucky, Tina, Elly, N.F., Ricky, Fred, and Bernie’s wife Page) in the kitchen for a meal of Chicken Cordon Bleu and exotic deserts prepared by Elly. There special gifts and presentations were given to the magnificent hunters on their successful quest for deer.

N.F. and Ricky joined the Order of Giimoozabi KeeMoSabe also known as “Bwana”. This award is given to those who actually bag a dear without committing any safety violations (i.e. shooting a fellow hunter in the face with birdshot).

Fred got an award although he did not get a dear. He got the Grinch’s dog (a Dr Seuss doll). I had a great time that weekend and enjoyed every minute of the drama and comedy that went with the hunt. A video of some of the highlights are posted below.

RJ