“In all things of nature,

there is something of the marvelous.” —Aristotle

After parking in the pasture, we made our way along the edge of the creek toward the crossing, the ground underneath my feet crunching with each step. The heavy frost had turned the field into a white winter wonderland.

“It’s almost snow,” I said as I looked up to see him nodding in agreement with a slight smile. The wind was knifelike across our faces as we crossed the shallow creek and walked toward the cabin.

I was euphoric! After much begging, I had finally convinced him to take me deer hunting. I never understood why he had been reluctant, as he had already taken me hunting for various small game from raccoon and squirrel to dove.

He picked a spot behind the cabin that provided shelter from the wind and a perfect vantage point through the hedgerow to observe the meadow where he had been told deer often crossed. I was bundled in my heavy coat, sweatshirt and insulated underwear and, out of the wind and next to him, I was warm, at least for the moment.

Pointing across the frost-covered glade, he showed me the trail that ran down the sunlit ridge and into the field and explained that the deer would use it to come down out of the hills and into the opening. I was to keep my eyes trained on the ridge in order to be prepared if and when they came.

Laying the shotgun across my legs in the direction of the game trail, I began my watch. Aside from the wind, the forest was still. However, I was soon distracted by the flurry of activity within the hedgerow, watching as sparrows went about the activities of the day.

As I watched the birds flit to and fro, I felt his hand touch my arm and as I looked up, his head motioned toward the ridge. I turned to see three deer walking down the hill. My heart raced. These were the first deer I had ever seen in the wild.

I had only recently tasted venison, fried tenderloin on a cathead biscuit for breakfast at Mr. Bud’s house while he and my father shared coffee and planned their next coon hunt. It was without a doubt one of the best things my young tastebuds had ever encountered, and at that point I knew that I wanted to be a deer hunter.

The three deer made their way down the trail and into the clearing. I watched as they walked across and into the adjacent wood line and disappeared. As anticlimactic as it sounds, I was hooked without ever taking a shot (which was probably not a bad thing since I only had a slug, a single-shot .410 shotgun with open sights and a smoothbore barrel, and most likely, at that point, frozen fingers).

I thought about this “making of a deer hunter” memory a lot while hunting this past weekend. However, it was not the hunting that brought back the memory, it was the frost on the front pasture at the farm Saturday morning.

The sound of the grass crunching beneath my feet coupled with the youthful energy of my dogs, Moose and Murphy, as they frolicked in the frosted field reminded me of that day afield with my dad many years ago. The pups’ normal high energy was taken to another level by the brisk feel of winter in the air, and while the winter solstice was still a few weeks away, the frost and crisp cold air were harbingers of what was to come.

It was a vivid memory, as in sitting-there-with-my-father-behind-the-cabin-feeling-the-wind-burning-my-face vivid, and it made me appreciate the “marvelous” qualities possessed by nature, hence the Aristotle quote. It also reminded me why I love deer hunting.

Sitting in the stand Saturday afternoon, I thought about one of the first deer hunts with my son Dan. It was a cool evening and, as we sat at the base of an oak atop a ridge, Dan fell asleep with his head on my shoulder. As he slept at my side, deer began to filter onto the adjacent ridge, feasting on the abundant mast crop of acorns.

Just at the point that there were at least six to eight deer in the group, a group that included one small buck, Dan woke up and proceeded to stretch, at which point all the deer quickly made their exit. He at least got to see a few white tails flagging in the air as the deer ran away. That experience is a treasured memory that we still talk and laugh about today.

Nature truly is amazing! Take time this week to marvel at God’s amazing creation and, until next time, I look forward to seeing you out there in our great outdoors.

Email outdoors columnist Brad Dye at braddye@comcast.net.