As the guide drove off and my fire began to warm the cold morning air there was movement only feet in front of my blind, a doe and a fawn headed for the bait pile. Beginning of the day and it was already on. As the sun began to rise with only minutes until it was legal shooting time the doe and her fawn stared intently behind them, then lowered their heads and wandered off in the opposite direction. If you hunt Whitetails-you know what's coming next! Out of the woods wondered a larger dark object, at first it was hard to tell but only a moment later the outline of antlers hit the morning sky.
At this point I could probably stop authoring this blog, most of you have already anticipated the ending, and for the most part you would be correct. Yes, after looking through the 50mm objective lens for the 3rd and 4th times I sat my rifle down, looked out through the screen netting and asked myself a question that I've never asked myself before: How are you not shooting that Buck? Within seconds the rifle when off and the bullet was headed down range. After four long cold days at the Lost Meadow stand, a move planned by my guide put me in a now hallowed ground known as "Zeek's Meadow".
There were some technical difficulties in getting a hold of my guide, he had moved about 20 miles away or so to meet up with the outfitter and apparently-just out of radio range. Moments passed, seemed like hours, and a voice came over the airwaves. It was the outfitter-Kevin, if that is you-key your mic 3 times....I complied. Moments later-Okay it's not Kevin...Rick, if that is you-key your mic 3 times.........I almost passed out.
I had a Saskatchewan Buck that was out of sight, moments seemed like hours and they couldn't hear me on my radio......and then my guide came on the airwaves....Kevin, if that's you key your mic 2 times....click-click.....Okay, if you have a deer down key your mic 2 times....again: click-click....hang on, I'll be there in about 20 minutes......I could have pissed myself!
Excitement quickly turned to question though: did I make a good shot? Did I even hit him? What if I hit him and we don't find him? Breath Kevin Breath.......
I heard the quad coming through the trees and as the guide arrived I was already packed, the ground blind was unloaded and I was ready to go-Breath Kevin Breath. As we approached the bait pile there was no sign of blood......the air went out of me. My guide pointed and said here's a drop-and the chase was on. There is a whole other story I can tell you about our tracking job-I'll save if for another time.
Some 30 yards away piled up in some willows laid what I came to Saskatchewan for-A 150+ Buck! So I thought............
That's where your guessing ends, and my story begins. You see, I brought some baggage with me to Saskatchewan, over a year of some tough times for myself and my family. Emotional stuff that I ventured North to leave behind for a few days-that's where God stepped in.
Upon arrival at Camp I entered the lodge and ran into Micheal-one of my previous guides. I had met the other guides but really didn't know them. My guide was assigned and I was a bit shocked-happy-but shocked.
My guide had a very slow and steady way about him, kind of peaceful in all. I'm wrapped so tight that if someone would have bumped me with a pair of scissors there's no telling where I would have landed. 90 miles a hour and way ahead of my guide!
After twisting my guides ear on the way to the blind and back-I figured he put me somewhere real close to the lodge so he didn't have to hear it anymore, but he didn't. He offered a smile, I tried to slow down, minutes later I was on a role.....as I usually am.
That morning, Thanksgiving Day, the morning my guide and I loaded the Buck and headed to camp we were side tracked to the old construction site to meet up with the outfitter. As we sat, everything seemed to slow down-at least for me. My guide ate his sandwich, I talked, my guide drank his soda, I talked some more, and so it went for about a half hour-then it hit me!
About 50 feet from where we were parked there was a pile of gravel about 100 feet long and 40 or so feet high. The side was formed by the gravel sliding down as they piled it-it was covered with snow. I did what anyone would do after having 5 days like I'd just had, I got out of the truck, wandered over and planted a snow angel on the side of that pile. My guide and I had a good laugh-things seemed to lighten up. Our conversation turned and my guide shared some things that most would bury from their memory. He didn't smile as he talked yet somehow I knew he was okay inside, peaceful in his conversation. It was that moment that I went to Saskatchewan for and I didn't even know it.
As with all of my hunts there seems to be something other than hunting that sticks in my memory. A sight or a sound, a deer or a magpie, or maybe a new friend. That day my guide became more than a guide-he became a good friend. I think God wanted it that way. My baggage was gone.
Try as we may there is little we can do about planning our day, let alone our lives, we just never know whats coming down the pike as they say.
I don't know if I'll get to Saskatchewan again, and if I do I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get the same guide, but that's okay-I don't think I'll ever be able to hunt in Saskatchewan without hearing him in my ear saying: it is what it is! A lesson we could all learn!
