Pitch Black

Odd Deliverance

New member
I shoot upright into pitch black, with no sense of direction other than the familiar weight that comes from sitting. My eyes adjusted and keyed into the projected red lettering of my clock on the ceiling. 02:58, two more minutes until my alarm goes off. Two more minutes until officially to my God, my Gal, and every other human on the planet, I would be hunting! I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand and mute the alarm before it had its chance to scream out. I rose slowly, calm but fluid movements to exit the bed without disturbing the wife.

I had prepared the night before and all my clothes were laid out on the kitchen table downstairs. I now move like a creature with a purpose. I ran over my printed checklist on the table one last time as I chomped on a piece of toast. Everything was accounted for, but I checked my list against my gear for the 5th time in the last 10 hours and sure enough… It was all there. As I picked up my Key’s, my dog Link stretched lazily at the top of the stairs “I hadn’t noticed him” and he perked up,” Sorry bud, not today.”

Arizona had been blasted by rains in the last 24 hours and this was the morning after the massive flooding. I knew my hunting grounds would be soft and quiet. I knew my prey would be tired and hungry. I knew… I just knew. The sound of my muddin’ tires humming on the roadway drifted silent and was replaced by daydreams. Success was palpable and all I had to do was show up.

Drawing the shoulder straps to my hunting pack tight to my back, I do that (jump/shrug) move that isn’t really ever taught to person… yet, at some point in our lives we all learned it. As I start walking away from my vehicle, visibility is still no more than 8 yards in the desert. The smell of rain still lingers in the air and I settle into a steady pace. My gait is smooth, despite the weight of a full pack of gadgets and kill machines. Hours and hours of target shooting, mapping of areas, squeaking on my hand, howling in the truck stuck in a traffic jam. All of it would pay off today. Today I am the Predator. Today I am Death. Today I deliver the power of a God upon an unsuspecting yet weary adversary.

Hours later, bathed in the grey-blue hue of early morning, I spy a half dead tree that I had previously found known only to me as ground zero for blind #1.

I begin to set the trap. Meticulously placing my decoy and electric call, I make my way back to my tree just as the Sun begins to show signs of life behind the eastern mountains. Visibility is still no more than 25 yards and I feel no rush. I cautiously climb up and position myself. I deploy my single pole shooters Y and rest it in the crotch of the old tree. Placing my weapon of mass destruction I hear the soft tinkle of my hand calls around my neck, and settling in: (WHHHHHAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOooooooo…) a locator howl bifurcates the silence! It wasn’t me. It came from the East, about a mile….

You have my full attention! A satisfied grin dances across my lips as I pull my cammo face cover down and reach for my howler. I respond with a well-practiced interrogation and focus on only one of my five senses… Silence, Silence… Just as I get ready to vocalize again, I get a return, and its MUCH closer! Chastising myself for my lack of patience, I fire up the e-call with an Adult Jack distress, simultaneously taking the safety off of Cain (my .308 heavy, short barrel, semi auto) and swivel my position in the stand to face oncoming glory.

I am still…


Eyes peeled… in full panic! Visibility, 100 yards.
With my current vantage point, weapon, scope and skill make me a killing machine out to 600 yards. 600 yards IF THERE IS DAYLIGHT! I find myself furiously pleading with whatever God, entity or science that will make the light come faster!

I pause the call… I am bridled chaos.

No movement, no anything. In my mind I can see him. Cool and calm, interested but wary. Sitting just farther than the light will let my eyes attain. Processing and calculating… Haunting.

Visibility 150 yards.

I volume down the call to 25% and start the distress. I begrudgingly accept my circumstances and focus harder, but to no avail. He came, I know he came. We all know he came.
The rest of my day paled in comparison to the first blind. Not so much as a “feeling” that one was coming. When it was all said and done, I had set at 6 blinds that morning. The walk back to my truck was demoralizing. I ran the first blind through my mind over and over. I picked out the things I would change. I internally chastised myself for not having that ever sought after grace called patience. I drove home and the wife knew by the way I moved getting out of the truck that I had failed. I hate that she knows that before I get to tell her. I had to prepare to get the text messages from my buddies pointing out that my Facebook page doesn’t have a recent kill on it, and hasn’t for almost a year.

That night in my garage I solemnly place my gear into its respective places. I make some notes in my hunting book and like a wounded animal I slink into the house and settle into the couch. My Dog Link jumps up next to me acting like he knows that I failed, almost sadness in his eyes as he looks at me with self-projected pity.

I crash out that night on the couch. Work, life, the World seems less colorful the next day. After work I drive out to where I can park my truck to hike into my hunting grounds. I get out and listen… Its about 7:40 pm just dark, and I hear the dogs howling… faintly.

Three days later… I shoot upright into pitch black...

 
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Words sometimes fall short, but yours didn't. I found myself there through your words or perhaps it's because we've all been in those shoes. We can relate, regardless of terrain or temperature our trials as predator hunters are similar. I look forward to reading more from you and thank you for sharing.
 
Thanks for the comments. I am hoping to have a new story later next week. I've got a new spot picked out and should be in a blind on Thursday!

I have a picture of my first blind but couldn't figure out how to attach it.
 
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This was my Tree. I was sitting left of my hat on the green branch. Yes... I had taken my hat down and hidden it.
 
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