Raindrops the size of double-ought buckshot began falling 20 minutes after ten. I had just extinguished the last embers of the evening’s campfire. Others in camp had abandoned me a few minutes earlier, retiring to their sleeping bags after a delicious camp meal, a round or two of “safe water” and tales told of daring and do. I had remained to poke coals one last time.
Rain pelted the tent’s fly and against the side next to my cot where I sat removing my Kenetreks. A quick moving, bone-chilling Arctic blast was announcing its arrival. Within moments, raindrops turned to sleet, and then to the whisper-soft fall of snowflakes.
I soon fell asleep nestled in the warmth of my sleeping bag…
The necessity of a nature call awakened me. I reached for my cell phone which thankfully showed “No Service”. It was 4:30am. My morning was scheduled to start at five. I quickly dressed, pulled on boots and opened the tent flap. Easily six-inches of fresh snow covered the ground.
The wind blew hard and cold! I looked skyward. The moonless ebony sky made one feel reaching up you could grab the Milky Way and drag it in, for a closer look! I walked to the cook tent, turned on the propane, lit a burner and positioned the blue-enameled coffee pot to start it boiling. When it was about to do so, I dropped in two hands full of grounds. Cowboy coffee would be ready in a few minutes. Once it was, I would awaken my three hunters and serve each a cup of the awakening elixir, at their tent.
Coffee started, I opened the wood-burning stove, stoked the coals, added cedar kindling, then a couple of sticks of long-dried oak. The warmth the new born flames would soon bring to the cook tent could come none too soon for me.
A short time later I had bacon sizzling in a cast iron skillet, filling the cook tent with the unmistakable, tantalizing aroma of coffee and bacon. Pulling perked coffee off of the fire, I poured in a half cup of cold water to settle the grounds, waited, then poured four mugs, three for the hunters and of course one for me. After a couple of sips of life-resurrecting coffee, I placed three strips of extra crispy bacon on each plate next to the coffee and then hurried to each tent to awaken the hunters.
Minutes later, three hunters gathered around the table, awaiting over-easy eggs, pan-fried potatoes, toast with homemade peach and dewberry preserves. I did my best not to disappoint them!
“You know Popo, one of these days you’re going to make someone a good cook!” said the tallest of my three grandsons hunting with me that week. The fourth, unable to attend, was on assignment with the military. Unfortunately, my granddaughter too, was away at college. All five grandkids had grown up hunting with me. All five had taken their first whitetail deer sitting on my lap at the grand old age of eight years old.
“Popo, I know you brought four Ruger №1s for us and you to hunt with. We saw all are topped with Trijicon scopes, either Huron or AccuPoint. But with your advanced age, did you also remember to bring the appropriate Hornady ammo?”
I started to respond with, “Yeah, for all the rifles except the one I brought for you…”, but then reached into the bag next to the table and pulled out two boxes of 275 Rigby, a box of 257 Roberts, and a box of 280 Remington. “Both the 275 Rigbys are sighted in dead-on at 100 yards with Hornady 140gr SP, the 257 Roberts with Hornady 117gr SST and the 280 Remington with Hornady 150gr ELD-X.” I continued, “I’m hunting with one of the 275 Rigbys. Ya’ll figure out who hunts with what’s left.”
“I’ll take the 280. I want to hunt the long strip next to the creek!” Said one of the twins.
“You know I want the other 275 Rigby, the one I hunted with in Namibia.” I nodded.
The oldest of the three by a couple of months said, “Perfect! You know I really like RSIs with their full-length stock, the 257 Roberts is mine.”
The sun was likely just starting to warm the air somewhere over Newfoundland, Canada, a long way from central Texas, when my three hunters left the warmth of camp and each headed to their “secret hole”. After pouring a second cup of near indigo colored coffee I settled back. I was in no hurry to leave the warmth of the tent. I planned to hunt near camp, sitting at the base of an ancient oak which had rotting board steps leading to a large limb about 10 feet above the ground. Someone long before had decided the spot was worth hunting. I suspected it still was.
I laid a couple of plastic trash sacks on the ground where I intended to sit, something I generally always carry in my hunting backpack. Plastic trash sacks are ideal for keeping dry in a sudden rain storm, perfect for sitting on when the ground is wet, and when packing out meat.
About the time I sat down, the eastern sky was yielding from inky black to pink, then orange. Low on the horizon clouds shone with a golden lining. Coyotes sang their early morning serenade. Birds greeted the rising sun. I cast eye to the heavens and gave thanks of the opportunity to see the birthing of another day. The sights and sounds were those of beauty and harmony! Sunrise and morning were beyond what mere words could describe.
Soon, despite frigid temperatures, I felt warm and comfortable. I closed my eyes and said a prayer of thanks. When I opened them, there stood a buck, a handsome 10-point, long of tines and wide of spread, but young of age. I watched as he freshened a scrape, then walk to a nearby bush and hooked it dutifully! I grunted softly, he turned to look my direction. When he did, I reached up and tipped my hat to him. He arrogantly shook his head, then disappeared into the underbrush. I wished him well, but warned him. Should he again appear in front of me two years from now he was in serious danger.
The morning passed quickly with several more deer sightings; does, fawns and yearling bucks. Satiated with the morning’s experience I headed back to camp to start lunch.
I had just warmed the coffee when my three hunters walked in the cook tent. In unrehearsed unison said they, “Did you see that sunrise?” I knew their parents and I had done something right!
Photo credit: Larry Weishuhn Outdoors