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TEAM WORK
By WildBill Curtindale

The closer we got to our destination the colder the thermometer read. Seven inches of powdery snow was on the ground and compact snow and ice on the roads.  We were anticipating the bite of the bitter cold and very aware of the challenge of staying motionless for long periods of time in this weather.  Of the four of us, three including myself planned on climbing up into treestands and fighting lung-burning cold air that instantly would freeze your breath.

This morning was the third of a four day late deer hunt.  On this hunt we were in the northeast corner of Washington to hunt deer instead of on our typical rainy, windy and cold Western Washington late elk hunt.  A few weeks before the hunt I was talking with my hunting partner Dale Sharp about inviting a couple other people.  We welcomed our good friend and my cousin, Clinton Gault, and another good friend, Steve Meyer.  I have hunted on many occasions with Clinton and have developed a great deal of trust in him.  I had confidence in Steve but this was our first hunt together.

I really enjoy the camaraderie of a hunting camp and the bond a hunt can build. I am also a firm believer in picking your hunting partners carefully, because you never know when you are going to need them.  You don’t want to commit to a hunt with someone that won’t get out of bed if the weather turns south. Worse yet, what if you hit an animal and you have a weak blood trail in harsh conditions but your “buddy” has a lot of quit in him? You could be on your own!

When we reached our destination the truck’s thermometer read -4 degrees.  Dale and Steve headed about a half mile southwest; down and across the river. Clinton headed about a mile up into the hills to our north.  My stand was just a few hundred yards away in a natural funnel area between the river and road where I had found sign of heavy use two days before.  We each headed into what was left of the diminishing darkness toward our destinations.

Not having much ground to cover I walked very slowly and quietly down the slope and sparsely timbered hillside to the small stand of timber where I had left my treestand the night before.  I took off my pack, positioned the climber on the tree, climbed onto the platform and through the bar to the seat.  While ratcheting up the tree I looked across the dimly lit, snow covered meadow to the north and saw several deer walking downhill toward the river.  They were feeding slowly about 60 yards away.  It wasn’t quite shooting light and they did not seem alarmed so I finished my climb.

Settling into my tree was quick and the deer didn’t seem to notice me.  They were feeding on the far side of the meadow where my arrow had fallen just shy of a small unsuspecting buck the night before.  I practiced standing up and drawing my bow a few times in my heavy wools.  I then sat down and transformed into a motionless predator.

I watched four does feeding 70 yards off to my left while a couple others below them headed for the river.  The river was frozen thick in most places; there was a good trail that the deer were using regularly leading down to some open running water.