Afield: Reminiscing about deer seasons past and present as regular firearms season opens
I am writing this on the eve of yet another Pennsylvania regular firearms deer season. By the time you read the column, I will either be basking in the glow of a successful hunt, or I will still be out there watching and hoping.
Of course, I have checked the aim of my rifle and my supplies for the day are all laid out — ammo, boots, heavy socks, hunting knife, dragging rope, snacks, coat, gloves and more. Even though I have many miles on my hunting boots, anticipation for the opener still runs high. The memories of many past seasons help to stoke the enthusiasm fire.
I have shot deer from first light on the opening morning to the closing minutes of the final Saturday, and many times in between. No matter what, anticipation is always highest for the opening day. Statistically, more deer are shot on the opener, which mirrors my own experiences.
I associate snow with the deer opener, but it has been mostly absent in recent years — a victim of climate change.
On Evitts Mountain one opener in the late 1960s, my father, brother John and I walked in to our preselected spots through the pre-dawn darkness. There was about an inch of snow on the ground. I got settled in on a log overlooking a wide bench on the mountain. Minutes ticked away toward legal shooting time and the sky began to lighten, but then it got dark again. The heavens opened and it snowed and snowed. I decided that my best strategy was to stay perfectly still with my collar up and hunched over my rifle.
When the snow stopped and it was light enough to see, there were three inches of the fluffy white stuff on everything, including my rifle barrel and me. I noticed a ruffed grouse perched on a branch about 30 yards away. It had hunkered down during the storm like me, and was shaking the snow off itself. I do not remember how many deer I saw that day, but I clearly remember the snow and the grouse.
Snow played a role on another opener in the early 1970s. This time, 10 inches or more of snow had fallen during the night. We wondered if we could make it over Dunning Mountain and be able to walk to our spots on State Game Land 73 near Loysburg.
My dad — always the inventive type — suggested that we cut the ends off bread bags, slip them over our pants and secure them with rubber bands, so that the bags could cover the gap between pants and rubber boots. It looked stupid, but worked quite well — keeping my pants dry and the snow out of my boots.
I made it to my spot on Tussey Mountain before daybreak, but the morning light revealed that every twig, branch and sapling had inches of snow on it and my visibility was only 15 yards. The sun eventually melted the snow, affording me a much better view. I shot a small buck later that day.
One more trip back in time — Snow played a minor role on the opening day in 1966. My father had worked third shift and we were late walking into Dunning Mountain. It was foggy and snowing big flakes mixed with fog. I spotted a buck feeding in a corn field as we walked toward the mountain. Just that quickly, it disappeared into the fog.
We played cat and mouse with the fog, but eventually I was able to make a 100-plus-yard shot and downed a small eight-pointer. It was my first buck.
Many of my hunting memories revolve around family. I was fortunate to have been raised in a hunting family, with a father and three brothers who also hunted. Because of our spread in ages, we only enjoyed a few years when the five of us all hunted together. However, it was always a shared family experience with two, three or four of us from the time I was able to follow in my dad’s footsteps.
Speaking of footsteps, when I was much younger, I remember how difficult it was for me to keep up with my dad as we climbed the mountain and my dad saying, “I don’t mind waiting for you, because before too long you will be waiting for me.”
Of course, my father was correct — I was fortunate to experience those times when my enthusiasm and younger legs led the way, too. Dad hunted well into his 70s and lived into his 80s.
If you venture out
New for this year — Disease Management Area 2 has expanded to the east and north into more of Centre County. For the first time, I will be spending the opening morning in DMA 2. Special precautions and regulations affect hunting within the DMA. Check the Hunting Digest for details. Also new are the green harvest tags with the tiny cutouts on the back for the month and day. However, I fear that utilizing these tags might just turn into a precarious task due to cold fingers coupled with the excitement of a kill.
Mark Nale, who lives in the Bald Eagle Valley, is a member of the Pennsylvania Outdoor Writers Association and can be reached at MarkAngler@aol.com .
