Night Hunt

Checking the clock I see it is time to go, the game camera had showed me the approximate time to expect the night visitors at the trap. Donning my camo coveralls, down filled vest, hat and gloves, I grab the AR15 with the night vision scope that hangs by the door and insert a fully loaded magazine, after cycling a round into the chamber I safe it and putting the strap over my right shoulder, exit the cabin. The wind is cold, knifing into my exposed skin, I ponder going back in for my camo balaclava but I won’t be out more than an hour or two so I decide to man-up and just take it. The crunch of the gravel in the driveway seems over loud when the wind drops to nothing. I can hear the long grass rustling as the last of wind stirs it. The trail to the clearing where the trap is set is clear in the weak light from the porch light behind me and the star filled sky, there is no moon tonight.

I walk the ATV trail, the long grass on either side of me coming up to my waist, soon it gives way to woods and it is more difficult to see the trail, but I don’t want to use a flashlight for fear of spooking anything at the trap. Trying to stay on the hard packed trail and walking as quietly as possible I finally reach my hide, a bunch of rhododendrons. Trying to be as quiet as possible I settle down onto the cold ground and try to get comfortable. I press the button that turns on the night vision scope and the two buttons that must be depressed simultaneously to turn on the IR illuminator. It is dark enough here in the deep woods, in the clearing where the trap is set, that I need the illuminator to see anything through even the NV scope. I unsafe the rifle, if they were to surprise me (the game trails are all over, some even crossing through the thicket I sat in) they could gore me or trample me before I could unsafe and fire. I do the first sweep with the NV scope, all is clear. Putting the rifle down my right eye has now lost its night vision and provides an odd dichotomy to my left, so I close both until it recovers using my ears to listen for any sign of movement.

Deep in the woods, the North Carolina wind is still sharp against the exposed skin of my face, not as slicing as the wind from a 30 below Nebraska winter, but still cold. An hour’s exposure had numbed some areas; I wish I had worn my camo face balaclava. The stars wink above in the night sky as the wind chases the clouds away. It is the coldest spring in recent memory, earlier it had snowed, the ground too warm for it to stick, odd for this late in the season, but it is only just turned spring so I guess not really unexpected. I can see Orion’s belt and several other constellations and the winking lights of airliners high above. Earlier a medium sized jet had roared over, less than 5000 feet over the ground, probably coming out of the county airfield a few miles north. I guess there are few places you can really escape from civilization. I hear the deep thrum of a neighbors heating unit as it turns on over the hill, over a mile distant.

Sitting on the cold ground my camo coveralls, hat and gloves blending into some rhododendrons, I raise the night vision scope and once again check the clearing in front of me. I can see the climbing tree stand left from deer season still wrapped around the last tree I used it on and the piles of bait in front of the trap. The wind kicks back up and trees nearby make squeaking noises as their trunks rub together. Silence returns as the wind dies back. Lowering the scope the telltales for the scope and illuminator glow balefully even through the duct tape I covered them with, wishing I had some of the original duct tape I had used in the Navy, this new stuff was just a plastic binder with adhesive. You would think the manufacturers of night vision devices would realize you don’t want bright telltales on a stealth device.

Closing my eyes I strain to hear any indication that they are out there, a less than stealthy foot fall, the snap of a twig bent in passing, but it is silent except for the sound of night birds braving the cold and the momentary chatter of a squirrel way back in the woods behind me. I try to keep completely still, becoming one with the surrounding world as the cold seeps into my clothing, chilling my skin.

There, the sound of a foot fall, I strain to hear more but there is nothing. The wind rises again, under its cover I move my right leg that has begun to ache from being in the same position too long. The wind dies again. Turning my wrist up, I check the time on my watch, its glow-in-the-dark dial tells me it is time to go. Making one last sweep with the NV scope I see nothing, no scurry, no bright spots showing eyes watching me. I turn off the NV and illuminator and safe the rifle, using it as a prop I get to my feet, the tingle of returning circulation telling me I had stayed in one position to long.

The path back to the cabin is poorly lit so I take out my flashlight and using my fingers as a block, use just enough light to keep me from tripping on an unseen root. The half-mile hike in the cold and silent woods warms me slightly. The porch light from the cabin pulls forward, like a moth. I climb the steps to the porch, cross it, open the cabin door and enter the warmth and light of the cabin, I remove the magazine from the AR15 and eject the live round into my hand then hang the rifle by its strap. Taking off my down-filled camo vest, coveralls and hat and gloves I hang them on the pegs by the door. It’s good to be home. There is always tomorrow.