The day ended up awesomely, but it didn’t start out that way.
On Friday, while at work in the dental office, I checked my weather channel app. It said, “30 mph winds — stay in bed today.” I laughed when I read that.
Even my boss Dr. Rahn said, “I bet you won’t get up and go tomorrow.”
I considered staying in the warm bed when I awoke and it was 7 degrees and snowing ... with gale force winds.
Although I live in South Georgia, it felt like northern Canada to me. I almost talked myself out of going, but every time I sleep in, I just know the buck of my dreams is feeding beneath my stand. So I layered on clothing like a Saskawatch — a term I invented for getting REALLY bundled up — and headed to the freezing woods.
That morning, the deer seemed to be holed up somewhere, probably South Florida.
I was very skeptical about the evening hunt, but the winds died down. Then my boyfriend Buster used my secret magic mix of scents in the block of timber where a lot of scrapes and rubs were. I’ve come up with my own favorite blends of doe-in-estrous scents that have given me confidence over the years.
At 6 p.m., I eased across the trail and got into my ground blind overlooking an old roadbed. There was still plenty of daylight left, and I didn’t expect to see anything until just before sunset, so I played with my phone.
I was texting, using Facebook and checking emails when I looked up and caught movement to the far right. I spotted a doe crossing the dark grassy road about 80 yards away.
She was bookin’ it, so I clicked the safety off, knowing a buck was likely pushing her. Much to my disappointment, nothing else came out.
I pulled my rifle down and kept my eye on the on far end of the planted road. Soon, another doe popped out of the chop (young planted pines, briars and other scrub).
Then the earlier doe returned about 150 yards away, this time with a much larger silhouette of another deer following close behind.
I raised my binoculars and saw it was a buck. Right away, I recognized it was one of our hit-listers, so I started shaking badly. Everything went blurry, like cars passing in a NASCAR race.
I dropped the binoculars and placed my rifle on the shooting stick.
I flipped off the safety and waited until the buck turned broadside, then squeezed off my shot!
Hyperventilating like Stan Potts, I called Buster and said, “I just shot one of our big boys!”
And so the story of Krissy Jean and the blustery day had an incredibly happy ending. Getting out of bed when I REALLY didn’t want to paid off big time, and I bagged one of the best bucks of my career.
But, oh yes, I slept in on Sunday.