More Than Hunting

More Than Hunting

Jamie Newman

    The morning sun had not yet begun to peak over the horizon; fall had just begun and it was the opening day of the Utah deer hunt. I had not been able to sleep the night before due to the excitement and time spent preparing for the hunt. Every time I would try and close my eyes and start to sleep, something I was missing or needed would come to mind. We were to spend the day hiking the steep terrain that bordered the small town of Willard in search of a trophy deer. Snow had not yet fallen in Utah, so the weather conditions were much hotter than normal. It was crucial to make sure our packs were done properly; neither too little nor too much could be packed. I did not want to be hot.

   The mountains still blurred together as there was not yet enough light to show the brilliant color scheme that fall brought as the leaves began to change. The morning air was cold and crisp, leaving a burning sensation in my lungs as I took a deep breath. The air was fresh and clean, unlike the heavy poison we breathe in the valley. The colors of the morning sky were beginning to lighten, and images of the sharp terrain started to take form and I knew soon we would be on our way.  As we stood there at the top of Willard Peak, we glassed the hillsides with our binos observing the scenic mountain side we had just driven. I glassed a few ponds behind us. At the pond’s edge was a moose having a morning drink; fearing nothing as if it knew today she was at no risk, for it was deer season.  As the sun began to kiss the mountain tops with brilliance, I began to notice the mountain sides being speckled with dots of hunter orange. I have never seen so many hunters on one mountain.  They were everywhere.  It became quickly clear, that if we needed to get moving and away from other hunters if we were going to get a shot at all.

     I was not familiar with the way my partner wanted to hunt today. Everyone has their own method that works for them and the two of us did not see eye to eye. However, he was the one with the plan today and I was just along for the ride. Being quite certain, we were not going to have any luck today with deer hunt, we started off along the top of the mountain. We were walking about a hundred yards behind a large group of other hunters, when they suddenly stopped. Without thinking, we stopped as well. Within seconds, there was a gun shot.  Silence came over the mountain as we stood there watching them. Eventually, they had formulated a game plan and disappeared into the thick brush in search of their deer.  “Man!” my partner exclaimed. “If we would have just been here two minutes earlier, that could have been us.” He sighed in disappointment and began walking on.

   Sitting on the top of Willard peak I was speechless at the sheer perfection I was surrounded by. Comforted by natures own music, with the sound of the leaves dancing in the breeze; this day had not been at all disappointing for me. There is something to be said for the peace and serenity that being on a mountain can bring one’s soul under the most impossible circumstances.  It was like I was in my own world and nothing else mattered. I was there for what I love most about hunting: the experience, the surroundings, and the calmness it brings me.  Looking back from where we had come from, I could still see the shrine of someone’s once lost love one and the parts of his wreckage still scattered across the bottom of the mountain rocks.  What was once the mirror of his jeep lay at the bottom of the rocky slope and glistening like a diamond. I could now see the specs of hunter orange from the hunters we were behind earlier. Gathered together in a circle hunched over, it had looked as though they had clearly found their kill.  How sad it was indeed a little reminder of how short life can be. There lay the remnants of a once lost human life at the bottom of this mountain. Then, just several feet away, humans that had taken the life of this deer; nature took man, and man took nature.

Off to my left were the steep and rugged cliffs that the mountain goats were known to frequently gather. The steep rugged rocks came out of the earth as if they didn’t belong. I stood on the edge a while, looking down at the sharp edges of rocks hundreds of feet down. “Nature could take me too,” I thought. “not today though. Today I was enjoying nature and it was going to enjoy me.” I sat down and began to glass the edges of the sharp rocks. The brush surrounding them was thick, and looked impossible for anything to get around.  I saw a small white spec in the clearing of purple trees, and focused my binos just as the small mountain goat disappeared into the cover of the brush.  Above the rocks, I could hear the sounds of smaller animals running along the ground. Playfully chirping and hopping on the ground. The cool breeze and sound of rustling leaves was nearly hypnotic despite the sound of gunshots in the distance. I blocked out the thoughts of death around me and centered my focus on the sense of peace I was surrounded by.

    Still sitting high on the mountain, I could sense my partner’s frustration with the day as he finished eating the lunch he had packed himself. We had covered a lot of ground today, now all that was left was the hike down the mountain into Willard where our ride would pick us up.  I could see cars in the distance speeding along the freeway. The town of Willard seemed almost dead, like a ghost town.  A part of my heart had wanted nothing more than to stay here. I longed to find a way to take this feeling, or even a fraction of it home with me. I knew the hike down was going to be the hardest part of our day but at the same time inevitable. With my partner glum and disappointed, we started down the steep terrain. Soon we would be back to life as normal. My soul had been refreshed with the moments and surroundings of this experience. The night before, I had been so anxious for the hunt that I couldn’t sleep, now ending the day, unsuccessful by the standards of most, I had found peace.