The beep, beep, beep of the combination clock and coffee maker pierced the pitch-black of the cabin. It was November 15 and muscles that finally relaxed tensed again. My mind tried to put the location and reason for all of this into perspective. My cozy sleeping bag fought against mental activity of any kind. It was 3:40 a.m.

Memories of temperatures in the mid-thirties and steady rain falling from gray clouds crept into my consciousness. These and other thoughts had stirred all six of us hunters by 4 a.m. Still half asleep we stretched, scratched and began sorting gear.

Finally, activated by the aroma of coffee, we sat down to Roy’s breakfast…eggs, bacon, toast and potatoes. It was 4:15 a.m.

Conversation actually began with the second cup of coffee. Cliff had made a trip to the porch and reported that the rain had slowed to a heavy drizzle. The dishes were cleared and their washing begun. It was 4:45.

Six men began the process of layered dressing. A shoestring broke, suspenders were misplaced, a flashlight had been left home and a backup searched for. Cushions and waterproof ponchos were distributed. Knives and ammunition were hooked on belts that were nearly too short for the task. It was a quarter to six.

There were a surprising number of vehicles on the road as David and I covered the fifteen miles to our hunting site. And, a half-mile before arrival a six-point buck, nose to the ground, ambled into the woods as we passed. Our temperatures rose ten degrees. It was 6:15 a.m.

The six of us rendezvoused at the trailhead, wished each other luck and pushed through the water-laden bushes and trees. For more than a mile our little procession of flashlight beams alternately crossed ridges of dense pine and cedars, and arms of a dense swamp. At 6:30 we passed where Gordon had baited and hunted a bear that had only visited in the dark. It was dark again!

At 6:40 a.m. blinking flashlights signaled the fact that we were passing the blinds we had expected to hunt from, but that had been taken over by a threesome of other hunters. Ten minutes later we reached our new and untried locations. All but David, Roy and I had already reached their stands.

Shooting light arrived at 7:10 a.m. An unseen deer “Whoofed” and stamped ten minutes later but nothing else.

At 12:30 p.m. the six of us met back at the road to share the fact that we’d seen a total of two does. “We’ve only had a little more rain,” someone offered by way of consolation.

After lunch we headed back into the woods for a similar afternoon.

Until 5:15 pm when Keith bagged a nice spike buck, there was little to talk about - a grouse, a squirrel, a crashing in the brush, was about it. And then, just a bit later, two does hurried by me, followed by a fine, lovesick buck. He stopped on the path in front of me and I fired.

But then he galloped, unscathed, into the swamp. The root of a green, upturned cedar, which blended into the edge of a bush, caught my bullet.

David and I had to leave early for home, so after a brief time of head shaking and “what ifs” we made our way out toward the road.

On the way out I learned that a nice four-point had been taken from out of the blinds we’d originally planned to hunt. From the other, five or six deer had already been seen and shots had been taken.

So what do you mean why do I hunt? The camp was great, the comradely excellent and the hunting – well, a little frustrating. But will I do it again?

You bet!