64 >BOWHUNTER APRIL/MAY 2015AUTHOR’S PHOTOCertainly I did not want to waste that ef-
fort, and my confdence was high. Tis
was the right place at the right time. Tis
place would pay of.
Maybe it was just because I’d climbed
a mile and 1,000 vertical feet in the dark
to reach my stand. Given all that work, I
wasn’t about to bail out for no good reason.
And besides, I was afraid to climb
down. Surely if I started down a deer
would show. It has happened to me be-
fore, and it could happen again. To avoid
that, I stayed one more minute, and one
more, and one more...
Or maybe it was my nearly bare freezer
back home. My family thrives on venison,
and an empty freezer is unacceptable. I’m
the provider, and I gotta provide...
No doubt pride and bragging rights
played a part, too. I thought of wrapping
my hands around heavy antlers and feel-
ing the pride. I might even have thought
about bragging a little to my friends. Te
reward could be worth a lot of misery.
For eight hours I stood in that tree in
the rain with my eyes fxed on that point
in the trail where deer would emerge
from the woods. None ever did, and at
dark I climbed from my tree and headed
down the mountain to camp.
Not only had I spent eight hours
watching an empty trail, but I’d spent
eight hours thinking about WHY I would
do that. Te reasons listed above might
help explain my motivation, but they re-
ally fall short. Te day was too long, too
boring, and too cold. No rational per-
son would submit to that when he easily
could choose more pleasant options.
It made me think again of the Lab-
rador retriever. Who can explain why
a dog will sit in a freezing blind all day,
scanning the sky for ducks? His focus is
not rational. He just does it because that’s
what he was born to do. It’s in his DNA.
Nor could I explain my watching that
empty trail all day. It wasn’t rational. I
just did it. I had no choice. It was in my
DNA. ❮❮❮The Empty Trail
Who can explain why a bowhunter does what he does?
The Wild Side
DWIGHT SCHUH, HUNTING EDITORT
WO DAYS BEFORE Tanksgiving, I climbed into my treestand at frst
light. Afer hiking up the mountain to reach my stand, I was damp from
sweat and from rain that had started falling during the hike. Immediately,
I dug out my umbrella and attached it to the tree over my head. Te sound
of rain pounding on the umbrella rather than on me lifed my spirits.
Standing in a tree in the rain ranks pretty low on the joy scale, but I fgured this
storm would push a few migrating deer my way and my confdence was high. Tis
was the day.
Te trail emerged from the woods 150 yards away and passed 20 yards below my
stand. Tat’s where I would shoot, but the critical point was that spot 150 yards away
where the deer would frst appear. I focused my eyes there.
Have you ever hunted ducks with a Labrador retriever? If so, you know how that
dog fxes his eyes on the sky and never finches. He has one purpose — to see ducks
and to retrieve them. Tat’s it, and he never wavers.
Tat was me in that tree. My one purpose was to watch that trail for deer, and for
eight hours that’s precisely what I did. It was the focus of my life, my sole reason for
existence at that moment. I never wavered.
Why would anyone do that? For eight hours, that question kept running through
my head. Why WAS I doing this? Why do MANY bowhunters do this? I would have
been far more comfortable back in my warm camper, and nothing was stopping me
from being there — except me. So why did I stay? Why did my eyes never drif from
that point in the trail, 150 yards away?
As many hunters do, I tried to make some sense of the drive to hunt, to reduce
it to a list of rational motivations. Do we just want to kill something? Afer all, I’d
spent money on a tag, and I did not want to waste it. Maybe it was my frugal nature
— I wanted my money’s worth.
Maybe it was because I’d put huge time and efort into scouting this stand site.For eight hours I watched
the point where this trail
emerges from the woods.
I did not see any deer.