

very first one, shot by my hunting partner in this same
field after we had camped out all night to find a beautiful
eight-point buck. He shot and I found the body. Together
we cleaned and packed it with ice.
This is my first year as a hunter, and I hungered to learn
every bit of information. Recalling what I could from
dressing the deer, I go to work on the pig. Starting at the
groin and sliding the knife through to the chest, I begin
the grueling task of cleaning my prize.
Once you look on the inside, the body is like a treasure
map, each organ having its own texture and place. I
savor using my hands to explore this uncharted territory,
secrets for me to discover. Fifty-five minutes and a couple
jagged edges later, I have removed all the vitals. Inspecting
Phantom – the name stuck and will forever be a character
in my memory – I wonder where my bullet pierced his
hide. I check the chest cavity inside and out. No holes. I
check the shoulders and the back. Not until I look at the
pictures on my phone do I realize that I shot him square
between the eyes! Secretly I give myself 007 status.
It registers in my brain I had been cleaning him in
the beam of my dying headlights. I had not left my jeep
running and the battery was calling it a night. Peace out
hunter – you wanted to do this on your own. In the dark,
with still a formidable animal in front of me, I realize it’s
time to call in reinforcements.
Finally, clean and crawling into bed about 2 a.m., I smile
and drift off to sleep. Phantom is tucked in as well, in a bed of
ice in a 155-quart cooler, ready to be taken to the processor. I
hope this to be just the start of my hunting adventures.
Having hunted for only two years, I am still eating up
every opportunity I get.
“When are you coming to North Carolina to visit?”
mom would ask.
“After January 1,” I would reply. I could not stand to
miss a minute.
I have hunted in wind and rain, all night and all day,
sometimes back-to-back. I have not eaten because I was in
the woods all day or fell asleep against a tree on the ground.
I have dragged deer and pig, checked traps and run with
dogs with nothing but a knife in hand to end the struggle
of a hog fighting for its life. I have had more setbacks than
success, but I believe that every experience in the woods is
valuable, and you make gains for the next outing. I crave
the wild outdoors, scouting out the tracks and reading the
signs of a buck scrape or the fresh dung of a wild boar. Every
moment is filled with anticipation of the unscripted battle
that could take place at any moment. I love all animals and
hunting is the vehicle that allows me to have an up-close-
and-personal experience with a wild being.
They become mine, a part of me. My story. My life
sustenance.
93
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