My first year hunting was 1997.  I planned, scouted, tracked, read multiple books, took Hunter Safety courses, sighted in rifles, got a hunting license and picked all my hunting friends and acquaintances brains well in advance of the season. I even went as far as purchasing two videos depicting in graphic detail the methods of "preparing your harvest for the freezer and table". Then there were knives, deer calls, drags and bags and plastic antlers to buy. High on the list were also NEW CLOTHES to wear in the woods. I could hardly wait.

I bought two cookbooks for motivational purposes. Venison is fantastic food when properly killed and dressed and I wanted to get some of my own this year.

Growing up in an area where for 50 years there has been little "hunting pressure" on the white-tailed deer, I had a somewhat "regionally skewed" view of the behavior of this animal. As a kid, it was not unusual to run into them in the woods and I was often able to track and follow a small group even during the day (snow helps though). They were everywhere when I was a kid, thick as Whortonsville mosquitoes. Since I was a pretty good shot I assumed all I had to do was see one and KABOOM!, Bambi was mine!

Early on opening day I was in my stand trying to get over the basic human fear of sitting in a flimsy tree-stand 15 feet above the ground. It took me another 30 minutes to get over my (reasonable I believe) fear of loading a gun in a tree that was swaying (not so gently) in the wind. That hurdle finally achieved, I settled down to wait, and wait and wait, and well… if you can remember your first day in a hunting stand, (or the first time you were stood up) you know what I mean.

Days passed. No bucks did. The first of two doe seasons went by. Naturally, the doe then began bedding all around my stand. There I was…and there they were, sleeping and eating (and laughing), just hanging out. I thought "HA, wait till the last week of the season (does would be legal again). I'll still be around." I was out there often (too often) and there were always a group of Bambi's female relatives around. This was becoming extremely frustrating. Even worse, every time I ran into a friend of mine I heard "So, did ya get a deer yet?" Then came the advice. "Well, have you tried…"

Two weeks later, I was at Forrest Farm Supply loading 400 pounds of corn (this was the UPS guy's idea) into the back of my truck. Then it was on to Cahoon's for a bottle of the good stuff…Tink's 69. No more Ms. Nice guy! Bambi was toast (creamed in a nice wine sauce I hoped). I put out my corn, waited a few days until I knew they were feeding, and then headed out for a nice day of, …..waiting. It was well into the rut so I set some scent lures and climbed up my (now comfortable) tree. After hours of "hunting", the light had faded almost completely in the trees and I couldn't see much into the fire break trails across the field. But, it was my birthday, and in spite of my lack of success , it had been a great day in the woods. Reluctantly, I unloaded my rifle, tied it to a line (with a nice seaman-like bowline), lowered it to the ground, slung my pack on my shoulder and climbed down the tree.

It's not good to leave a scent lure in the woods when you're not actually hunting, so I started off down the shooting lane to retrieve them. I had gone about ten or fifteen yards in when I heard a tremendous CRASH in the brush directly in front of me. Looking up, all I could see was a vague, dark (large) shape. Quarter seconds passed and the shape gradually became recognizable in the fading light. Whoops, it looked like a bear to me. After a fleeting rush of fear I had two distinct thoughts. The first was, "Well, turn-about is fair play". The second was "You idiot, your gun is still tied to a line hanging off the stand". I didn't run, but I threw my lures in the pack, untied my rifle, reloaded it and began backing down the trail in the direction of my truck.

You know those silly action movies where the good guy is backing away down the alley holding his gun in front of him, waving it back and forth? And then he STOPS! And you think "Why are they stopping? What kind of idiot would stop?" Well, it's obviously a deeply ingrained human behavior because it's exactly what I did, and I could HEAR the damn bear following me! I had no interest in shooting, eating (or being eaten by) a bear or appearing in a "stupid human tricks" segment on "When Animals Attack III -The Girl Who Fed the Bears". So I kept backing up, all the way down the trail, and all the way across the field, swinging my rifle from side to side taking quick peeks behind me to make sure there wasn't a 450lb bear in the bed of my truck…just waiting.

The end of the story is that I didn't get my first deer this year, but I learned things I had never known before, met some wonderful people, and came to appreciate even more the beauty, richness and heritage of Pamlico County. And next year…I'll be out there somewhere, armed with lots of recipes, all sorts of advice, but that corn thing?…I don't think so.