Sarah Nigbor

Happy Gun Deer Season! I can feel the excitement in the air and see the blaze orange warriors tromping through fields and woods. I can also smell it, but maybe that’s because my teenage son, home from his freshman year of college for The Big Hunt, sprayed himself and by proxy our living room with some nasty scent guaranteed to draw the rutting bucks.

The headline, “This is why we never see any deer,” is something my husband utters at least once a week throughout the year, not just deer season. Let’s just say we’re a loud bunch, sometimes by accident. And he’s exaggerating, by the way. We have deer up the wazoo at both our house and where I grew up in the town of River Falls. But according to Hubby, our loud mouths prevent him from seeing any deer ever.

But this deer season and last, his remarks may have been correct. Shhh, don’t tell him.

My house sits on 10 acres and juts up to a steep, forested hill. At the top of the hill at the property line, our neighbor has his tree stand. I can see a blaze orange smudge if he is in it. Sometimes the kids aren’t as observant and embarrass themselves. I wonder what he thinks of us and our shenanigans. Last year, my daughter was taking the dog out to do his business when she decided to serenade her pup at the top of her lungs with a pop song by Sabrina Carpenter called “Espresso.” As she was bellering the song, I suddenly heard her stop, gasp and the door slam as she and Trapper bounded inside.

“Oh my gosh, I think the neighbor is hunting,” she whispered.

I peeked out the window and confirmed the orange smudge was there. Yep, he was.

“Do you think he heard me?” she said, absolutely mortified.

“How could he not?” I said. “They probably heard you in Ellsworth.”

For context, we live east of Spring Valley.

This year, it was my turn to embarrass our family name. On opening weekend, I sneaked out to my car to head to work. My daughter was fast asleep and the boys were out hunting at my home place near River Falls. I touched the car door handle and almost died of fright when the car alarm went off, horn blaring and lights flashing. I fumbled for my keys, trying to silence it and proceeded to drop them on the dark driveway. As I felt around for them amid the strobe-like blinding flashes, I grasped them, pressed the right button and beautiful silence was restored. It was light enough to see the orange coat up on the hill. I wanted to sink into the asphalt. What he must think of his loudmouth neighbors.

Our family is in the process of cleaning out my grandparents’ and mom’s home to get ready to sell. This happens to be the property where my husband and boys hunt. Unfortunately, some of our cleaning activities coincided this year with opening weekend, out of necessity. My cousins from Idaho were in town and could help clean out the barn and old shop. As boom after boom echoed in the dumpster, I cringed. I was in the house painting, a relatively quiet occupation. But the barn cleaners, through no fault of their own, were pretty loud. I could just picture my husband in his blind, shaking his head and repeating to himself: “And this is why we never see any deer.”

Our son assured me that if the deer weren’t scared off by Hubby’s loud snores during naptime in the truck, they wouldn’t be frightened off by the barn cleaning. Maybe if he were awake, he’d see more deer, hmm?

And maybe the deer are used to our loud ways, because shortly before last light, Shane harvested a nice, meaty eight-point buck.

Happy Hunting!