Here in Arizona, there is no better time of year then Fall. As the cool nights move in the painful heat is ushered out. I love the feel of a fall night. It is not just a change in weather, there are also traditions that make the season great.
One of these is deer hunting. I have never been one to hunger and thirst after the big buck yet I look forward to the hunt. Perhaps being in the company of my brothers and good friends does the mind some good. Coming home empty handed has never made my head hang low, though I have shot my share of deer.
If you are from Arizona maybe you see what I am trying to paint. A brisk desert morning accompanied by a low burning mesquite fire with a smoke that smells as sweet as Grandma Hall’s hot bread. I am invigorated by the crisp feel of the morning and enjoy seeing the light break the darkness on the Eastern horizon, dotted with stars in a deep blue sky.
The mountains in the Blue are altogether different. The ponderosa pines cause a whistle that adds to the refreshing mornings that supersede the deep nights.
No matter where the draw puts us there are a few constants. Meals that yield more dirty dishes then Thanksgiving dinner yet have a flavor that only a fire can give. Late nights conversations that solve the world’s problems or leave everyone around the fire laughing so hard that tears are shed with the horses curiously looking on. The beautiful thing about a camp fire littering the sky with golden embers on a cold night is the fact that everyone around is in the spotlight. With the Hall’s each trip is a bounty of jokes and hard work that produce memories (that will perhaps be embellished) that will last a life time.
A good horse in good country is hard to beat. On the back of a horse you see a world that is hidden to hikers and sit-at-camps alike. Animals do not scare from the pounding of a hoof like they would from a boot. Every time I smell the saddle leather seasoned with sweat I dream and smile of the next ride.
This year was different. I missed the hunt with my brothers, and only caught a few hours of my own hunt, yet there has never been a greater season. After Clayton and I finished my frigid hunt we went with Ryan and Alyssa to Canadian, Texas for a juniors hunt. We met John, Michael, and Anna there. We slept in a hotel and ate in restaurants, and this was as non-typical as an honest politician.
We woke long before the sun and found ourselves in a dark wheat field in the cold. That sun was as slow moving as a piece of legislation. We waited and one could imagine how a seven-year-old boy might handle these circumstances. When the morning broke we saw some deer about 200 yards off and watched them. A second group came in from behind and stood about 100 yards away.
The deer must have been curious because we were about as subtle mariachi band as Clayton and I moved into position. He softly said, “Dad, I see him in the scope.” I told him to shoot when he was ready, and he did.
Well someone had to put meat in the freezer and why not the seven year old. Missing my father in life I could never imagine how wonderful it could be to be with my little man. Clayton and I were so excited we almost scared every deer out of that county. The entire trip was grand.
My wife and children are my world. Every day I look forward to coming home to them.