Outdoor columnist Dan Geddings: Second day

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It was very cool when I stepped outside. I knew that I would probably need a light jacket once I got settled in a stand. There was a sliver of the moon hanging in the eastern sky, and it was very dark. The stars twinkled overhead but offered little light. At the club, I parked just inside the big timber.

My small pen light illuminated the dim woodland road, and I walked slowly to minimize any noise of my approach. The deer had been feeding heavily on the corn that I had placed in the road near the stand, and I hoped that I wouldn't spook any before I could get settled.

At the stand, I tied my rifle to the pull-up cord and climbed the steel ladder. There were some leaves on the platform, and I brushed them aside before stepping into the stand. The seat was also full of leaves, and I brushed them out and placed a small seat cushion there that I had brought along. I stood and looked around at the darkened forest. There was no sound, only the drone of some distant traffic.

I pulled up the rifle and laid it across the corner of the rails, then I pulled off my backpack and set it in the floor of the stand in front of the small chair. I sat down and got comfortable. My back was to the southeast, but I could see that the sky was beginning to lighten around me.

There was no color and no detail in the darkened woods. Only a lighter sky and a darker woodland. With the light came some grays and some detail. Now I could see leaves on the branches nearest me. An owl hooted somewhere off in the distance. One answered from nearby. I felt a chill and reached for the jacket in my pack. It felt very good.

A northeast wind had been forecast, but there was no detectable breeze. I pulled out my little wind checker and puffed a stream of white powder into the stillness. The powder drifted to the east. I puffed it again, and the powder drifted back to the west. Either direction would be OK, as I was facing toward the northwest. I expected any deer to approach from the big swamp below me.

An owl flew by very close on noiseless wings. He was down in the timber, and I marveled at its ability to navigate through the darkened treetops. I realized now that I could see more detail in the woods, and some dull colors were beginning to appear. I could see individual tree trunks and sections of the sandy road I had walked in on. I heard the plaintive call of a songbird in the understory below.

The light seemed to come quickly now, and I looked over my shoulder through the treetops to the east. The sky at the horizon was a blaze of orange. It was beautiful, but I could not keep my focus there. The hillside below me was where I hoped to see a buck.

Now I could see an ocean of green leaves around me, gray tree trunks and brown leaf litter on the forest floor. A red bird darted through the underbrush. To the west, I heard turkeys cackle. I hoped they would come my way. I love to see them in the wildwoods. A squirrel scampered down a nearby tree and hopped through the open woods to the corn I had near the road.

A rifle shot sounded at a distance to the south. I wondered if it was on our club or a neighbor. Someone must have seen a buck. I sat very still and watched the woods carefully around me. I listened for the sound of a deer walking but only heard silence. It was a beautiful morning, cool and crisp. I looked back to the east, but the color was gone now. I heard the turkeys again but never saw them.

My patience runs slim sometimes, and I cannot sit for long. The deer season has just started, and it runs for four months. The first day had been hot and muggy. Mornings in the early season are usually not so good, but I had to go on this second day of the season.

Reach Dan Geddings at cdgeddings@gmail.com.