It started raining just as I got set up in my treestand this morning. This is my hilltop treestand, one that I need to drive to get to. I park my truck about half a mile away, and walk in while it’s still good and dark. By the time I’m in the stand and ready, I’ve generated quite a bit of heat to keep me warm for the 30 minutes until the sky starts to show a little light.
It was a slow process this morning – the sky showing light. The clouds sort of mushed night and day together, so darkness crept slowly away as a gray light grew on the meadow in front of me. The rain was never particularly heavy, but combined with the wind, quickly burned up the reserve of warmth I built up hiking in. It wasn’t long until I was trying to work all the muscles I could internally, while remaining still on the outside, in order to generate a little more heat.
I started rattling as soon as the light was good enough to shoot. Nestled up against the face of the dark timber behind, I watched the gray meadow in front of me, and the edges that lead to the meadow.
The sound of the wind and rain jams one of the key senses that a deer has – their ability to hear – so they like to stay hunkered down when this sort of weather comes up. True to form, they stayed tight to their beds this morning, and I never saw a single deer moving.
I took a long and circuitous route back to my truck, exploring other corners. I found a spot or two that looks like it’s had more buck activity than the one I choose, but I’ll stick where I am.
I like the spot where I have this stand set up. I’ve had a couple of pretty magical encounters with deer while sitting here, and have come to think of it as my special mystical hilltop. Regardless of what happens this week while I sit at that meadow, being there fills my heart and soul with goodness and a deep connection to this Place.
The rain seems intent on keeping up all day. Even if it does, I’m thinkin’ I’ll spend some more time this evening with my mystical little corner of the world.