It was a good day to be seated in a mini chair behind the pile of trees I use as a ground blind. After sitting in the rain at two sites on Wednesday my boots were soaking wet, and I’d forgotten to dry them in the sun and breeze. A middle-aged brain cramp left me sitting in the shade, in a breeze, with cold, wet feet. Cold feet make the rest of me cold. You’d think I’d learn. A deer blowing took my mind off the chill.
Rustling through woods behind me and to the right alerted me to the largest of three skunks on its way in. It always stops at the base of the same tree to potty or mark its territory, I’m not sure which. It stopped, not noticing me as usual, and then went about its merry way. A yellow bellied sapsucker drummed up a racket as it flew tree to tree to tree in search of supper. Red squirrels chased each other in another cops and robbers getaway scene.
The doe usually walks through the woods to my left or right in the late afternoon. I waited, listening for her footsteps in the crunchy leaves and the occasional snapping of a twig. A little before 5 pm I heard her. She walks back and forth on the same trail. The ground is bare other than the duff; no grass or even ferns so I can’t imagine why she’s there so often.
I’m getting good practice at sitting stone still with this doe around. I challenge myself to let her get as close as possible before she discovers me by sight or scent or because I move. Yesterday she was 20 feet behind me before she found me. Have you ever heard a deer blowing at you? She startled me again even though I knew it was coming at some point. The combination of blowing and the sound of her hooves trampling the ground as she whirled around to storm out made me jump. I listened to her a few minutes, grinning as I thought about how close she’d gotten this time and how much progress I’ve made in this little game of mine. And then I remembered my phone and turned on the camera. You can’t see her but if you turn up the volume and listen closely you’ll hear a deer blowing.