The Thrill of the Hunt

It was getting dark and I was anticipating that my guide would remark, “I’m calling it” as he typically did when dusk settled upon us and we have had no luck on our hunt. This evening though, was different.

As I waited for those three words that would end our hunt, my guide grabbed my elbow and instead whispered, “Deer in the field.” That was my cue. My heartbeat quickened as I moved in slow motion. I folded my right leg beneath me on my chair to give myself some added height. I lifted the gun from where it rested in the corner of the blind and painstakingly maneuvered it – onto my shoulder, through the slat in the blind.

I quickly ran through the “rules” in my mind … I released the safety, placed my finger gingerly on the trigger and looked through the scope. And, I couldn’t see a thing. I whispered to my guide for some help and he grabbed my shoulders to guide me in the right direction.

As if I wasn’t nervous enough, when the deer appeared between the cross hairs of the scope every sense was heightened. I could hear my own breathing as my guide reminded me what to do – don’t hold the scope to close to your eye or we’ll be stitching you up, center the cross hairs just below the deer’s shoulder, slowly squeeze the trigger. Check, check, check – I did it. I pulled the trigger.

Surprisingly, I barely heard the gun shot – it was silent compared to my practice round. It was after I pulled the trigger that I realized I was shaking and so was my guide who hands remained frozen on my shoulders. I think he was as shocked as I. (I’m quite certain that no one believed I would actually go through with it!)

“Did I get him?” I asked. “You got him, you got him,” my guide yelled. I think he was even more excited than I. He had successfully converted a Jersey Girl into a huntress. A task that very few thought he would accomplish, including myself and my husband. (He still calls me “killer”.)

I placed the gun back in the corner of the blind and followed my guide out into the field. He was walking so fast I could barely catch up. He told me to stay put, which thrilled me (note the sarcasm) since it was pitch black and I was in the middle of nowhere. I watched the light of his flashlight, so in case something started chasing me I would know which direction to run in. After what seemed like forever and was actually about thirty seconds, my guide called me over.

He asked me where I thought the deer went down. I pointed and by gosh, I was right. I picked up the blood trail with the flashlight and followed it into some brush, where the deer lay. My immediate reaction was, “oohhh”. I felt horrible. I was so sad. My guide was quick to remind me that we hunt for a reason – we hunt to cull the deer population. If we didn’t, the deer wouldn’t survive as there is not enough food or resources for a large population, so we keep the population in check.

The ride back to our meeting point was silent, I was still debating whether I had done a bad thing or not. Once we re-joined the group, spirits were high. I was the only one who got a deer that afternoon, on the last day of the season. And since it was my first, I was treated to a ritual – blood from my first deer was smeared on my cheeks and my nose, like war paint - paint that I proudly wore as I promptly got in my car and drove right over to my mom’s house where the rest of the family was having dinner. I just couldn’t resist!

This experience took place during last years hunting season. However, I remember it like it was yesterday. As the fall air chills - much to my own surprise - it seems I have a hankering for going hunting again. Who knew?



Courtney Naughton is a Jersey Shore native who relocated to Bluffton. She is currently the proud owner of a pair of camouflage pants. Courtney can be reached at courtneynaughton@hargray.com.