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Yes, I'm a Hunter -- Here's Why

All in the family: The author, kneeling with a deer he killed in Pennsylvania 13 years ago, and his father, who no longer likes to hunt. (Kunkle Family Photo)

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Then, suddenly, I saw the buck turn those huge radar-dish ears toward my brother. Somehow, the deer had become aware of the threat, and he appeared to be focusing all his senses in my brother's direction. Seconds ticked by. And then the deer suddenly jerked out of sight, gone, just like that, as if he had dropped down a hole.

I signaled my brother that the game was up. After we rejoined, we marveled at the fortress-like bed that the deer had made. We wondered how he escaped so quickly and quietly that my brother did not even know at first that he had fled, how he had managed to penetrate the thicket with those huge antlers.

My brother said he had come so close that he could see the animal's rump through a small opening in the brambles. But he could not see all of him, and he could not see the antlers. That's why he didn't shoot.

So the buck got away. Yet, to us, it was one of the most memorable hunts we have ever had. And we are already preparing to hunt that buck again.

Author's e-mail:

kunklef@washpost.com

Fredrick Kunkle is a reporter on The Post's Maryland staff.

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