The Night Before Deer Season

The Night Before Deer Season
December 27, 2019 Sierra Bullets

The Night Before Deer Season

By Gary Prisendorf


The night before deer season, awake lying in bed
The vision of a monster buck, alive in his head
A rack so large, that it looks like a tree
He falls fast asleep, at a quarter till three

At five in the morning, he jumps out of bed
Chugs a hot cup of coffee, throws his hat on his head
Checks to make sure, that he has all his gear
Grabs three sticks of jerky, from last season’s deer

Splashes a handful of water, on his unshaven face
Stuffs his pocket with Charmin, “Just In Case”
All the gear he laid out, the evening before
Is loaded into the truck, as he closes the door

Hits the ignition, and pulls fast away
There’s nothing like Deer Season, Opening Day
Every truck on the road, he sees orange inside
A quick check of his watch, says it’s “5:45”

Arrives at his lease, it’s now “6:03”
A ten minute hike, then it’s up in his tree
As he sits in his stand, the cold air hits his face
For daybreak he patiently, sits there and waits

An overcast morning, still struggling to see
Gunshots in a distance, then another, then three
His eyes scan the landscape, he hears the crunch of dry leaves
Watches two squirrels playing, near the base of a tree

In stealth he sits patiently, up there all alone
From his vibrating pocket, he checks his cell phone
A text message and photo, from his best friend Big Chuck
The picture of a field dressed, ten point Buck

Five after eleven, he crawls down from his tree
Heads back into town, for a quick bite to eat
Then back in the woods, about ten after one
Knowing right before sundown, things will get fun

He sits until sunset, with rifle in hand
As darkness sets in, he steps down from his stand
On the drive home, in his old pick-up truck
The radio playing, the Thirty Point Buck

Pulls up in the driveway, and turns off the key
Goes in the house, grabs a quick bite to eat
Somewhere around ten, he crawls back into bed
The vision of a monster buck, alive in his head

A rack so large, that it looks like a tree
Then falls fast asleep, at a quarter till three
At five in the morning, he jumps out of bed
Chugs a hot cup of coffee, eyes bloodshot and red

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