Opening Day: A Morning in the Stand

As we hiked into the stand early this morning, the world was dark, cool, and crisp—a perfect backdrop for a day in the field. It’s moments like these that make hunting something truly special, even before the sun rises. In the quiet pre-dawn, I could catch the faint scent of deer along the trail, a reminder of the animals moving in the darkness around us.

Once we reached the stand, we settled in: rifle loaded, binoculars ready, and a stillness settled over everything. Only the sounds of crickets and the occasional breeze through the trees broke the silence. As the sun slowly climbed, the woods around us began to stir. Cardinals flitted between the branches, their soft “peep-peep” calls filling the air—a gentle wake-up call from nature itself. Listening to them reminded me of my grandmother, who always told me that cardinals represent loved ones who have passed on. A little part of me felt like she was there with me. Then, a new call caught my attention—a sound I hadn’t heard before. Out came the Merlin app, and I learned it was a Woodhouse scrub-jay joining in the morning chorus.

As the light grew, so did the activity around the feeder. Five does appeared, walking right up to the feeder with an expression that clearly said, “Feed me.” And, as if on cue, the feeder went off, and they dug in. A couple more cautious does soon joined from the left, seeing the others eating and rushing over to claim their share.

After a while, a larger shadow moved on the hillside. We couldn’t quite tell if it was a buck or doe, but the suspense was enough to keep us on edge. Then, it stopped just behind a cedar, hidden and still, as if testing our patience. Eventually, it moved back up the hill, revealing itself as a large doe—a beautiful sight, even from a distance.

Later, an eight-point buck wandered in, about 40 yards from the stand. He strutted up the hill with a wide, low rack, a young buck not quite ready for harvest but impressive all the same. I watched him through the binoculars, completely absorbed, forgetting to snap a picture in my fascination. But the universe gave me a second chance, and he returned, allowing me to capture his image and a piece of the memory.

As the morning wore on, the temperature began to drop slightly, a welcome break from the usual Texas heat. I pulled on my jacket and enjoyed the cool air, grateful for the absence of mosquitos—a small gift on a long hunt.

Eventually, one by one, the does began to drift away, some heading back up the hill and others into the cedars. The stand fell quiet again, only broken by the occasional chirping of squirrels to our left and a hawk soaring gracefully above, eyeing the ground below with intent.

And so, it was time to pack up, putting the binoculars back in the case and unloading the rifle for the hike back to the truck. We didn’t fill the freezer today, but as any hunter knows, the true reward of a good hunt lies in these moments—the calm, the anticipation, the encounters with nature, and the memories we carry with us.

Today, I’m grateful for every moment in the field, and as always, I’m looking forward to the next time.