The Petting Zoo (2001)

            The mule deer were working Kincaid’s garbanzo beans hard.  I would break away from work and drive on out.  As they were plowing up the fields, I found myself having to walk farther and farther.  The wind was typically out of the west on such afternoons, which was in my favor, as the deer were coming from the west, up out of the canyon, and into the fields.

            But when the deer would come out was impossible to predict.  If I went early, they seemed to come out just before, or after, dark.  If I purposefully or otherwise went late, even a bit late, they would already be in the fields by the time I got there, and I’d be wasting my time. 

            The first afternoon in wait, I had a muley doe and fawn near by, but they weren’t legal.  The bucks appeared to come up a brush slot to the south, so the next time out I tried the slot.  I positioned myself standing against the brush at the top of some 60 yards of brush.  I was in camo clothes and face (and hand) paint.  At length, the deer came up.  I stood motionless.  Does, fawns, small bucks.  They got close enough to seemingly be able to pet.  They would look at me – jet black eyes against different shades of gray fur – but couldn’t figure me out.  I stood perfectly still.  They kind of `piled up’ in the brushy slot, the last place of cover, and/or shade, before making a break for the garbanzo bean field.  Perhaps they were coming from different parts of the draw below, and were now getting ready for their daily `burp’ into the field, at dusk.  I felt like I was in a zoo, except that I couldn’t move, and as long as I didn’t, I enjoyed the sights of being in a whole community of deer.  Soon, a legal buck came into the group – perhaps deer number 12, or 15.  It was working its way within range; probably not by accident, there were deer around him, and by now there were deer all around me.  Then `all hell broke loose’ as the first deer had worked past and behind me and caught my scent.  And they were gone.

            Several days later I went back.  By now does were legal – I thought surely I would come back with a deer.  I waited, and waited.  This time Terry was on the road and could watch – but we had no radios.  I had come out after work – he was already in the area, and we informally agreed to meet out there, if possible.  It was getting late – maybe it wouldn’t happen at all – then he gave his crow call – and I knew something was up.  About seven mule deer bucks – all legal 3 or 4 or more points, were working their way up my way.  But this time they were a bit to the right – not right up the slot like the ones earlier.  Shots would be longer, maybe 30 yards.  Perhaps the slot still rang of danger from the evening before.

            My first shot, miss; my second, miss.  `Were they dodging the arrows, or what?’  By now one of the bucks was even closer, level with me – a respectable four point, about 25 yards away.  I shot. And then the most bizarre thing happened … it was as though the Matrix was being shot in deer version.  The buck arched his body in a way as to let the arrow pass, missing the vital parts toward which it was heading, in fact missing all parts, landing quietly in the dirt and grass, and then the buck resumed feeding his way this way and that up the hillside.  I was baffled. 

            Now the biggest buck so far appeared.  He was a nice four or five point.  He wanted in the garbanzos, bad.  Tail wagging in anticipation of dinner – but also somewhat aware something was up.  I shot – and missed.  The deer ran down the over the hill, and disappeared.  I walked out for my arrows – stupid to walk out so soon – but flustered by the misses.  Then, to my surprise … he came to try again, tail still wagging in anticipation of dinner.  But it was getting dark, and he wouldn’t give me another chance.  All I could do was laugh – otherwise I would cry. 

            Terry said that there were 10 bucks in all – the biggest ones I didn’t even see.

            The season ended that day for me – without one in the freezer.  Though there were days still left – I had to get ready for and leave on a business trip.  Besides, I was hunted out – cheerfully defeated - by the `garbanzo bean bucks’.