Over the Hill and Almost Dead
Over the Hill and Almost Dead
by Bob Peck 08-03-09
I could see the trespasser from a good 3-400 yards away. I was perched on a knoll in full head-to-toe snow camo with my rifle on a bipod (also in snow camo) and enjoying the 3 ft of freshly fallen snow glassing the pinch point below formed by the confluence of two ridges. I found myself fully content and warm despite the 12 degree temps. The sparkling diamonds of sun at the right angle on the surface of the snow had me snug and amazed. I had draped my blaze orange vest over the log directly to my right and put my blaze orange hat in front of me on a twig about 3′ above the snow.
I was hoping the trespasser would make his way to the property line and disappear but his track was taking him straight up the ridge line across from me and resolutely on my Grandfather’s 150 acres. It was slow going for the trespasser as the 3′ of fresh powder was lying on top of a 4′ base. Through the lenses of the binocs it seemed like he was plowing the snow with his legs while simultaneously working his way up the ridgeline. Large puffs of breath further reinforced the effort underway.
I debated standing and revealing my position but with that much distance between us I didn’t want to ruin the hunt and besides, Ifelt the blaze orange against the backdrop of sheer white would suffice. On he trudged and with each step I felt my anger building. Just what the hell was he doing or thinking? In a few moments I would find out.
Without warning he suddenly stopped 50-80 yards from the ridge summit he was climbing and looked in my direction. He stood motionless for a good 5 solid minutes, pulled up his rifle and pointed it directly at me. Before I could yell out he fired a round so close to my position snow blasted in a cloud directly in front of me. The adrenaline pump kicked into overdrive. I don’t know why but I thought he must be shooting at a whitetail directly behind me so I spun around to have a look. Nothing.
Shot number two cracked and landed even closer in front of me with dirt littering the surface of the snow. It was clear this trespasser was shooting at me. This time I yelled out “What the hell are you doing?! STOP!”
I grabbed the binoculars and watched him lower his gun. He raised the rifle back up again and for a second I thought another round was about to be inbound. Mr. Trespasser had no binocs so I assumed he was sizing me up through his scope. What he saw was me flailing my arms wildly with my blaze orange hat in my hand. I remember thinking if there is one more round I’m going to fire a warning shot over the hunter’s head but it didn’t come to pass.
We all know how sound travels in the crystal clear winter woods with nothing to abate the sound waves. I heard Mr. Trespasser yell “Sorry! I thought you were a deer!” His voice boomed across the 250 yards of our separation.
Thought I was a deer?! Are you kidding me?! I’m blending into my environment so as not to look like anything AND there is the extra “advantage” of a blaze orange vest and hat in my direct proximity and I look like a deer to this guy?! Man was I pissed! I yelled obscenities across the winter woods that day and it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to say that I “lost it” knowing I could have been dead that day. Mr. Trespasser nonchalantly pivoted from his course and dropped over the ridge out of my line of sight. He wasn’t in any particular hurry.
I tried to catch up with Mr. Trespasser but under the deep snow conditions there was no way to actually span the distance and catch him but I did track him to where he must have parked his truck and then fled.
I’ve told this story many times in seminars and hunting camps and while on the surface there doesn’t appear to be ethical dilemmas, I’ve discovered over the years there are many. As in all my Ethics Check columns I gladly write for my good friends Dan and Dale, this isn’t the end of this story so I await your observations before I chime back in. C’mon y’all, bring it!
