Syracuse.com - Auburn hunter reflects on the last day of deer hunting season

[HuntingNY-News]

The regular firearms season for the Southern Zone ended at sunset Sunday (Dec. .

By Tom Adessa

The old tree stand creaked and groaned in cadence with my knees as I climbed up for an afternoon sit; we have aged together.

I hoped an impending snowstorm would put the deer into an early feeding mode. Would I finally fill a tag today?

The entire season had been fruitless; it was either too warm or too windy and then there were the two misses. But I remained optimistic, looking forward to venison sausage and making chili during the winter.

Tom Adessa 

Settling in, I scanned the familiar wood lot for any activity and my thoughts drifted back to the years of hunts from this stand. If only the metal and fabric could talk, I wondered what stories they would tell. How many deer pass by here in the night? How big is that buck rubbing on that beech tree? Is this where the coyotes howl from after sunset?

Memories of past wildlife encounters from this stand came to mind as I waited. I smiled thinking about the chickadee that landed on my shooting rail. He was just curious about the big lump high up in a tree.

Or on an opening day of archery season just as I drew on a buck, a coyote slinked past upwind and spooked him. And that time a Cooper's hawk flew back and forth scolding me; his piercing cry alerted the entire woodlot to my presence.

A fluffy red fox once curled up and slept in the morning sunlight not twenty yards away, his red fur glistening with golden highlights.

'"Wait! Whats that? Deer?" I thought to myself.

No, the crunch in the dry leaves was just another squirrel stocking up on beechnuts from under the leaf litter. His presence reminded of a family of five raccoons that feasted on the nuts earlier in the season. One of the raccoons had sat on his haunches; his fat belly and pose reminded me of a Buddha statue.

My watch showed 30 minutes of legal shooting time left. This is that magical time when the deer trickle through this finger of woods to feed in a nearby corn field.Would tonight be one of those times?

The last few minutes pass by much too quickly and it's time to call it a season. The cold has made me stiff and I stand up to stretch. A sharp "whoosh" cuts the stillness and antlers flash as a buck snorts and trots away, his tail rocking back and forth giving me a white salute goodbye.

He was standing 50 yards away in a thicket waiting for darkness. I smile while shaking my head and unload my gun.

That's not the first time I have seen that on the last day

Editor's note: Adessa lives in Auburn. He hunts deer in both the bow and firearm seasons.

View the full article on The Syracuse Outdoors Blog