The Old Man was thoroughly exhausted. He glanced into the bathroom mirror as he started his shower. Where had this older version of himself come from? After a long day in the woods, the hot water beating on his back seemed like Heaven. As he opened the cabinet to grab a towel, he noticed the seven pictures he had taped to the inside of the door. Each a slightly blurry photo of a buck that seemed to grow and age from picture to picture.
He dressed and made his way to the den, where family pictures hung on the walls. As he sat down to fire up the ancient computer, he glanced at his favorite picture, which was next to his computer. It was a photo of the Old Man holding his grandson, Dylan, soon after he was born. He looked across the room into the eyes of his wife – the same girl he had fallen in love with some 40 years before. Dylan, whom the Old Man had trained into a proficient hunter, had just left for college in Minnesota. The two of them had a special bond and the Old Man missed spending time with him in the woods. His wife knew him well and seemed to understand what he was thinking. She put an ice cold PBR next to him and said, “Maybe tonight you will find one more picture of that buck that keeps you going into the woods each year.” She kissed him on the top of his head and gently closed the door.
Jessica was actually the reason he started hunting. When they were a young married couple with a baby on the way, she had mentioned how she missed the smells of a venison roast cooking on the stove all day. It brought her back to her childhood and the memories of her father proudly bringing home a nice deer to help feed their family of six throughout the winter months. The Old Man’s father had worked long hours and never had the time to hunt. As a young husband wanting nothing more to make his bride happy, he learned to hunt on his own. Over the years he read every book and magazine about deer hunting he could get his hands on. His wife’s suggestion had turned into an obsession.
He put the tiny SDHC card into the computer and took a sip of beer. The Old Man knew that there was better technology these days with deer cameras. He knew you could even get one hooked up to a phone and the pictures would appear instantaneously. He was old school and would have none of that. He was finishing up his second beer when his heart skipped a beat. There he was. “Night Train” was what he had started calling this buck some years ago. The Old Man had bestowed that name upon the large buck after seeing the second picture in which the buck appeared. That photo featured the deer looking into the camera almost like he knew the camera was there. Way beyond the buck off in the hills was a train going by. Tomahawk Railway was written on the side along with the normal graffiti that kids seem to tag on every train. The Old Man had dug through the pictures from the previous year and had been shocked to see Night Train in a very similar pose with the same train in the background. That was when he had started hanging the photos in his bathroom cabinet as a daily reminder of what he was hunting. Every picture taken from that old Moultree camera, including this new one, had an eerily similar pose with the Tomahawk Rail car in the background. Always at night and always between November 2-10. Over the years, the Old Man had begun to believe that Night Train knew the camera was there and decided that he would allow himself to be caught on film once a year. As crazy as it sounded, the Old Man believed it was true.
The Old Man looked forward to the first week of November every year. But more specifically, November 5th. That was the day his daughter, Annie, had been born. November 5th was also a day when the bucks were usually in full rut and running crazy in the woods. Over the years he had harvested some of his biggest bucks on that date. The day was special to him, and he could not think of a better day for his final hunt. He could barely sleep the night before and was ready to go when he awoke at 4am.
The Old Man woke up with the usual pain in his shoulder. It was so normal now he didn’t even think about it. Four years before, Doc Gandy had told him it was time to break down and buy a crossbow. The Old Man had undergone three shoulder surgeries and he couldn’t pull back his compound bow without excruciating pain. He had relented and purchased a Barnett Explorer crossbow online for under $400. It was very accurate, and the Old Man had shot quite a few deer with it, but in his mind, he was cheating. He still preferred his ancient Fred Bear Instinct that he had bought some 25 years before. It was a cheap model that had been on sale at a local archery store. It shot true and the Old Man never had never thought of getting another more expensive one. Why spend more money on a different bow when this one had done the job so well? But after the third surgery, at 72 years old, he had finally seen the logic and relented.
The Old Man hadn’t told his wife or anyone about his most recent appointment with Doc Gandy. He had known Doc for 32 years, and they had become very close. They even squirrel hunted together when their busy schedules coincided. Doc Gandy had told the Old Man that the cancer was spreading and more than likely this would be his final year in the woods. The Old Man didn’t flinch, but he noticed a small tear streaming down Doc’s cheek. He put a hand on Doc’s shoulder and left his office.
The Old Man opened the closet door in his old farmhouse hallway and instinctively started to grab the crossbow when he noticed the Fred Bear compound bow in the far corner. He reached for it and held it in his hands for the first time in way too many years. He wiped away the dust and put it in his old Ford truck. He owned 40 acres of hunting land that had been in his family for years just 35 miles up north, and he headed there while his coffee cooled down enough for him to drink. The drive was peaceful with very little traffic, and he listened to his favorite Classic Rock station playing songs he loved and remembered from years ago.
He pulled into his spot near the thick pines and turned the truck off. His family cabin was ten feet away, but he didn’t need anything from it, so he got dressed into his hunting clothes in the dark outside while trying not to make too much noise. The stars were illuminated like nothing he had ever seen and he again realized why he loved the outdoors and especially this sport. He got to his favorite hunting area 40 minutes before the sun would even think about coming up. His stand was an old home made one that was only 8 feet up from the earth. He was in between two old pines and fully concealed. He hung his bow on the rusty nail and settled in for the hunt.
The sun started to peek out while the Old Man was watching two squirrels play tag from tree branch to tree branch. He didn’t notice the deer appear. Like a ghost, Night Train was 15 yards away. The Old Man was calm. Over the years he’d trained he managed to train himself to relax when a deer came in. This was different. Surreal. He managed to get his Fred Bear Instinct up and at full draw without any pain. Shoulder be damned – hHe felt like he was 25 again! Night Train, head down, ate some acorns. Night Train was head down, eating some acorns. He was bigger than the Old Man remembered from the pictures. He had gray around his face and neck that the Old Man had never noticed before. His mind wandered to his own face in the mirror that morning and the gray that mysteriously appeared over time.
He had his dream buck in his sights and was just about to let the arrow fly when Night Train picked his head up and stared right into the Old Man’s eyes. Over the years he had seen this often from a deer. It was always nerve wracking. They held each other’s gaze for what seemed like hours but was probably mere seconds. During this encounter, the Old Man swore something happened. He could actually hear Night Train in his head. Not sure exactly how but he knew he could feel it in his mind. Like a dream. Night Train told the Old Man “Take the shot. I have no regrets. I’m tired.” The huge buck again put his head down and gave the man a perfect shot. The hunter was still at full draw and had Night Train’s vitals in his peep sight. This was the moment he had dreamed about. The moment that had kept him coming into the woods. A once in a lifetime hunt! He slowly lowered the bow to his leg and removed the arrow. Night Train raised his head and again their eyes met. The Old Man tipped his head slightly as if to bow. The big buck held its gaze with his rival for another second and then was gone and into the woods.
The Old Man gathered his things and went down the trail. He stopped for a brief moment to take it all in. What a hunt. What a life. No regrets. He put the bow into the back of his Ford and pulled himself into the truck and started the engine. The classic rock station had been left on. Guns and Roses was on with Axl singing Night Train. A smile came across his face while he turned it up and headed home.
Todd Reissmann lives in Appleton Wisconsin with his wife Renee. This is his second short story to be published.