Deer Hunt Bouncing energetically around the car, I waited impatiently for my dad. This was the first major hunt of my life. We were heading out on a great adventure-a whitetail deer hunt. At 12:30 a.m. we arrived, tired and hungry at my uncle's camp deep within the piney forest near Groveton. My uncle met us with steaming hot coffee, which streams of vapor wafting into the frigid night air. Luke-warm soup quickly satisfied our hunger as we surveyed the towering pines and sniffed the dying campfires of the other hunters. With a hopeful attitude, we rolled into our sleeping bags for a restless night of sleep in anticipation of the hunt on the morrow. Rising to frost on the ground and a cold campfire, we wrapped ourselves in layers of warm clothing. Quickly, we started a small fire with its dancing shadows. In the predawn night, I marveled at the quiet and sparkling light which reflected off the glistening ice which lay serenely about the forest floor. As I trod cautiously towards the stand, the crunch of ice underfoot was like the crack of a bat against a hard thrown ball. With my hands shaking and my stomach in my throat, I climbed slowly into the tower pine tree. Every scratch of the leaves brought a violent reaction from my over active imagination. The wind silently whistling through the treetops was my constant companion as I nervously waited for the silent deer. The icy cold brought the furred animals in search of their meager meals. Tails twitching and claws scratching the bark of the swaying pine trees, the squirrels scampered around for nuts and pine seeds. Armadillos blindly grubbed along the forest floor, making a most horrendous sound in their noisy search for worms and grubs. Raccoons made their way home from foraging for their nocturnally dinners. All there sites and sounds both scared and delighted me. Slowly I raised my rifle, a 30-30 Marlin lever action with a Weaver 4x scope, scanning the brush for the elusive deer. Leg raised, ears cocked forward in a state of alert, the small doe eased into the clearing. Looking back into the dense brush, with quick turns of her beautiful head, she cautiously advanced. Tail flickering, hooves slowly pawing the ground, she advanced slowly across the clearing until she vanished as a ghost in the mist. I wondered if it all had really happened.