Deer In The Darkness, A Different Kind Of Hunt

I like to arrive on the farm around sunset and look over the fields as the golden light begins to shift to the murkier purples of dusk. In that last light, I’ll collect range data, using my rangefinder to identify landmarks and taking mental notes about their distances. Then I review my ballistic data so I can account for bullet drop — gravity’s dramatic effects on a projectile as it moves towards its target — at distances beyond my 100 yard zero. Once more I check my pocket, confirming I have the paperwork issued by the warden, permitting me to hunt here after dark. We often call these “nuisance tags”, but here it’s really called a deer depredation permit.

I set my rifle — a semiautomatic .308 — into the saddle atop a carbon fiber tripod that was once intended for photography but has since been repurposed as a very effective rifle rest. This technique was taken from our country’s sniper community and has become more and more common in hunting culture in recent years.

Switching on the rifle’s electronic scope, a metal housed thermal imaging unit, the entire landscape comes to life in the monochrome of heat signatures. The coolest objects appearing white, with various shades of gray revealing the relative warmth remaining in them from the day's heat — which can be substantial in these summer months. Living creatures, particularly warm-blooded mammals, appear as a rich, dark black. While the gentle hills and contours of the landscape can easily conceal an adult deer, once they step into my line of sight it’s nearly impossible for them to remain hidden. This technology is not “fair chase”. But this isn’t fair chase hunting. These deer are damaging the crop of the vegetable farmer whose fields I’m standing in, and I’m here to help remove them. Using the pan feature on the tripod I scan the area looking for signs of life. It’s still early, the deer here don’t start coming out until true darkness descends.

As the last light fades I drop my generation 3 night vision goggles — we call them NODs, for Night Optical/Observation Devices — into place over my eyes. The world begins to glow in brilliant emerald-green light as if night has become a verdant day in the narrow field of vision produced through the tubes. Looking up, millions of stars are revealed that would be imperceptible to my unaided eye. I choose one, and focus my objective lenses on it to get an “infinity focus”. This gear is essentially 1980’s technology, yet still considered the leading edge. It’s expensive to own but what’s it worth to see in the dark? I sometimes think: “what would my ancestors be willing to do to possess such a power?” I’m not wearing them to spot deer, they’re inferior to the thermal scope for this job. Instead, I use them to navigate around, to estimate distances, and stay situationally aware.

Slowly, as true night descends, dark black quadrupedal objects begin to filter onto the landscape from the wood line hundreds of yards away, headed towards the rows of planted corn and pumpkins. Their tendency is to take a bite of one pumpkin and then move to the next, repeating this throughout the evening, slowly destroying the entire crop. I’m here to prevent that. Actually, I’m here for venison, and the way I’ll acquire it is to prevent depredation on the crop.

As the first deer enter the plantings I start to estimate range. This doesn’t have to be perfect, just approximate. 250 yards. I place the crosshairs just above the deer’s back knowing immutable gravity will be drawing my projectile earthward from the moment it leaves the muzzle. Using my thumb I move the selector switch from ‘safe’ to ‘fire’. The pad of my finger makes contact with the two-stage trigger’s flat face and presses it gently to the rear. I feel the hard wall of the sear, then press through it. “Snap!!!” The suppressed rifle isn’t movie quiet, but it certainly won’t wake the neighborhood. It’s more of a machine sound than an explosion, as the bolt reciprocates to the rear of the firearm's receiver and then back into battery, picking up another round as it does. The briefest moment passes as the copper monolithic bullet is in flight, then suddenly “thwack”. There’s a definite sound when a good hit is made. It’s like a wet pop as the thoracic cavity is penetrated at high speed. When you hear it you know you’ve struck your target.

The deer drops from sight in the summer’s tall grass. I make a mental note of where my rifle is pointed and of what lies in the distance. My finger moves away from the trigger and pulls the selector switch back to ‘safe’. Now I walk, following the bullet's path, looking for the deer who’s laying somewhere along that trajectory. I take the rifle with me, occasionally flipping up my NODs and looking through the thermal scope for the still-warm body that lays on the ground. In time I find her, laying there with that innocent beauty that every whitetail doe possesses. Beautiful long eyelashes and a smooth, thin, orange summer hide that would have turned a dusty beige in the soon-approaching autumn.

I kneel down and take a moment with her. Place a palm on her flank to thank her. Apologizing for taking her life in this way and at the same time, appreciating the way she’ll provide the raw building blocks that my family will be making our own bodies from in the weeks and months ahead.

After a few moments, I crack a glow stick and place it on her side. It produces a dull glow that, under the enhancement of night vision is visible more than a kilometer away. It’s time to get my truck, which I’ll drive under NODs — without the headlights lights on — to keep from waking the farmer and his wife, who are sleeping in their farmhouse close by. Now the real work begins. I’ll need to get her field dressed, skinned, broken down, and into the cooler. I’ll be up till dawn, but I’ll love every moment of it. Getting to do this is an experience few ever get to have.

It’s an unusual “hunt”, not subject to the sporting attitudes and ethical dilemmas of modern hunting. Come fall I’ll switch back to that approach. But until then, I’ll be stalking this farm at night, filling these tags and my freezer too.