Cold on the trail

By KIMBERLY M. WEYANDT

Sitting on a neighbor’s back porch, my shape broken up by horizontal posts, I try to stay completely still as a doe steps out of the wood line and into the backyard. I pull on the hood strings of my sweatshirt, fighting the cold as the sky dims from a hazy blue to a chilly violet. With large eyes the doe stands not more than 25 feet away; I ignore the pins and needles in my legs.

Following the seasoned doe out of the trail come four first-year does. They walk with caution, pausing and jumpily looking about, untrusting of the quiet. They are barely a year old; their mothers probably didn’t make it through last year’s season, leaving them to depend on the oldest doe in their group.

On the porch I know I smell like danger, reeking of a human scent I can’t detect, but the house always smells like a human and if I’m still enough the deer might not discover my presence. The does tip-toe toward an apple tree, cautious but hungry.

On the porch I shift my weight and free my right leg from under the prison of my left. The blood flow restored, the pins and needles ease in severity. The does continue to feed. I scan the tree line, looking for signs of bucks.

Twenty minutes later, the light nearly gone, a trio of bachelors step out of a second trail 60 feet to my right on the porch. I squint through binoculars and count 12 points on the last buck. As I watch them make their way slowly across the field I am unaware of the shifting of the wind.

Stomps and loud snorts bring my attention back to the does. The changing wind has brought my scent right to them and they are overcome with panic. The seasoned doe stomps past me, making high-pitched snorts. Growing cold, I watch them disappear into the woods. When I turn back to my right, the bucks are gone as well.

I wait a few more minutes before rising from my spot on the porch and sneaking down the driveway. The deer will probably avoid the porch for a few nights, but they will return to it. As for me, I am one step closer to pinpointing my buck’s routine trails and strategizing my hunting plan for opening day. This Saturday is opening day for bow season in Pennsylvania.