The morning was darker than usual, overcast and a new moon, as if there
was a black hole sucking in all the light. He got out of the truck and
put on his backpack and slung the rifle over his shoulder. He had an
appointment, it was opening day. He was hunting the bottom lands along
the Hudson river, an area he new well and had supported many fine deer
for him. He hunts alone, to commune with Mother Nature he says, but in
reality, he knows no one who hunts. Off he trudged
into the brush and darkness. 20 or so minutes later he came to the
spot he wanted to be, or so he thought, it was to dark to tell, so he
sat and waited, he could re-position himself after first light. Morning
light comes in waves and with each wave a little more clarity comes
with it. Along the way your imagination takes over and you begin to see
things that aren't really there. As it became lighter, out of boredom
he raised his sight to his eye, there standing 20 feet from him was a
large buck, he laughed, and lowered the gun, the morning light playing its
tricks again. 10 minutes later the buck was still there, it hadn't
moved a muscle. Raising the gun again he peered through the scope and
if he looked just right, could make out the eyes and one ear, and wasn't
that antlers instead of branches? Gunshots started in the distance so
the day had begun. He put the cross hairs between the eyes and a little
above and squeezed the trigger.
