I'm not quite sure where this story starts, the beginning is rather nebulous, but perhaps it starts on Saturday.
As I was hunting, my mind wandered a bit. Normally I guide it back to presence, awareness of NOW, making sure I am reaching out with all my senses, searching for signals around me. This time my thought process went a way that I let play through. Brother Dave talked about a theory that, while humans have individual souls, animals have collective souls. So, for example, there is one cat soul or cat spirit, one dog spirit, one deer spirit. In my mind I met this deer spirit. He asked me (definitely male in my head) why I was hunting. I explained to him (myself) the WHY of my hunting, thinking of industrial farming and the inherent cruelty therein, of my connection and respect for the deer I harvest. I delved deeper, looking for what I really want from hunting, and that is to be a participant in nature, to be a positive force, an instrument of improvement and enhancement for nature. I would love to be such a good hunter that I only harvest animals that would not otherwise make it through winter, a wounded or old animal. My skills are simply not that good yet.
In Montana this year, the last week of deer season is open for harvesting a doe from private land. We have loads of does all around the property, and I was considering if I would take one of these. I spent some time the previous week observing the deer in our west pasture. On Saturday evening I sat in the rocks that line the top of our waterfall, overlooking this pasture, and watching the deer in the field. Earlier I had seen a very large buck sniffing around the does there so I have been keeping my eyes open for him. Twice I watched two young spike horn bucks jostling for dominance. It was great to watch them posture and charge each other, neither old nor large enough that they would be likely to actually breed this year. Mostly only does fed here, but I considered taking ones of these young bucks. By Saturday I decided that I would not harvest a doe, but those young bucks were still a possibility.
While hunting on Sunday I made a decision in my mind. I would definitely not shoot a doe, and as far as one of those spike horns- I would shoot one, but only with my camera to share the 'one I didn't get'. If I found a 'real' buck, or something that really stood out on this last day of hunting season, I would take it but otherwise I would be satisfied with the young buck already in the freezer.
Except for a couple I scared up while I was walking the road with my gun on my shoulder and not really hunting, I saw no deer, but had a great day hunting. It was lovely out, my inner and outer self was quiet and connected, I really enjoyed my last day of hunting for the year. I walked out of the woods in late afternoon, about an hour of sunlight left. I walked to the barn and got on my ATV, heading around the property, starting out by the horses. There were several deer there, I scoped them, all does with whom I am most familiar. I headed around the shop, heading west between the lake and our house.
In the yard between the lake and the road a deer was curled up. It seemed pretty early to have a deer lying down, they usually wait until dark before they camp out. I stopped my ATV, raised my rifle to scope him. Yes, him, definitely horns there, a spike horn. But something was wrong; it looked like its mouth was open. Maybe it was just the angle, so I moved closer, scoped him again. Yes, his mouth was hanging open, not a pose I have seen in a deer before. I moved just a little closer still to make sure. He didn't move, didn't seem threatened by me, not a wise position to take during hunting season. Sure enough his mouth was hanging open, he seemed listless and unaware. This deer was gravely injured. I stepped off my ATV, raised my rifle, aimed for his left shoulder, trying for a heart shot, and squeezed the trigger. He fell immediately limp, just flopped over.
I approached him to be with him in his last breaths as Indigo stepped outside, then approached on her ATV. We sat with him and tried to figure out what had happened. He was soaked, his jaw was broken, he had a strange line down his right side with fur missing. We pieced it together. To the best of what we could figure out, he was hit by a car which broke his jaw (or perhaps he just ran into something). He could no longer eat or drink. In incredible pain and thirst, he got into the pond, trying to quench his thirst but of course this would do little good. He finally laid down for a long, slow, and painful death. And I got what I had prayed for: a wounded deer that needed to be put down, that needed relief from horrible pain and certain, slow death. That line down his side was the exit wound from my bullet which hit his left shoulder, missed his heart somehow, hit his right shoulder, then it walked down his right side, leaving a line in his fur.
I feel so very badly for this poor creature, he was obviously in pain for quite a long time, his tongue was grey and dry, his bladder and intestines pretty much all empty. I don't know how long he suffered, but he suffers no longer. And I got an answer, a lesson, and a blessing of food all in one.
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