This story does not have a happy ending.
It started about a year ago with an email from a woman I didn't know in Northwest Arkansas.
She wrote that she didn't like hunting and didn't like guns, but that she enjoyed reading my columns. She understood that hunting is important for controlling deer numbers, she wrote, and this reality was becoming increasingly apparent because deer were eating all of her precious plants and shrubbery.
"I don't want to see any evidence of it, but you are welcome to hunt deer on my property with your bow," she concluded.
We started working out the details, but then we hit a snag.
She wrote, "I should have known I should have consulted my dear, sweet husband about this first. He says absolutely not, so I'll have to rescind my invitation."
I told her I understood. Communities and municipalities are in conflict over the role of hunting to control deer, I wrote, as are spouses sometimes.
A month or so ago, she sent me another email. Deer are eating her out of house and home, and her dear, sweet husband finally agrees. "Something must be done. Please come and take some deer off my property!"
I met them Tuesday at their place in Benton County, and we hit it off immediately. They have six acres, and the deer run a consistent route across the crest of a small ridge. The lady showed me the remains of her flower garden.
"Look at my poor holly!" she said. "I didn't even know deer eat holly. Even these little cedars! I wish they'd eat this honeysuckle, but they won't even touch that."
About a hundred yards from their house, a doe and two yearlings munched contentedly amid a small cedar thicket.
"They're not afraid of anything," she said. "They won't run unless you run at them or throw something at them."
Wednesday's hunt was a bust. A massive thunderstorm hit the area in the morning. In its aftermath were strong winds with gusts up to 40 mph. Deer don't like to move in that kind of weather because they can't hear, and because they are unsettled by plants and branches swaying.
Thursday was calm and bright.
I arrived early and placed a small folding seat between two boat trailers. I donned a camouflage cap and facemask, and also a gillie poncho. I cocked my crossbow and waited.
Within 15 minutes, I saw movement near the property line. It was a deer. I watched its broken outline drift behind the trees before it turned and headed my way.
It was a big-bodied deer, moving quick and purposefully. I perched my crossbow on my knee and followed the deer in my scope. It was a buck, a mature 8-point. Its rack wasn't real tall, but it was about 16 inches wide.
It followed the ridge until it hit a tangle of branches that fell during an ice storm. Just as my host predicted, it turned right and followed a trail that led straight to me.
The buck finally saw me about 30 yards away. It was curious but unconcerned. It reached down for an acorn and then threw its head up, trying to get me to move. It continued this little pattern as it inched closer.
At 20 yards, it finally turned broadside.
I squeezed the trigger. The string released with its signature hollow thump.
My heart sank as I heard the unmistakable sound of a bolt striking wood. I had failed to notice a small branch between me and the buck.
The buck wheeled and ran about 30 yards, looked back and slowly walked away.
I found the arrow about six feet to the left of where the buck stood.
"An 8-point buck, really?" the man asked, incredulous. "We never see them that big. The only ones we ever see have those little pointy antlers."
Often, when you tell a non-hunter about missing a deer, they try to sound sympathetic. But they're really not.
This lady was sincerely disappointed.
"I hope you get him tomorrow," she said.
"I don't think he'll be back for awhile," I said.
"How long do you think he'll stay away?"
"Five days, maybe 10."
"Shoot! That's all? I hoped you meant months. I really hope you get him!"
They invited me to stay with them that night, and they treated me to a sumptuous dinner and great conversation.
I've met some of my dearest friends through hunting and fishing, and sharing fellowship with my new friends was the best part of the experience.
They invited me to come back anytime, so maybe this story will have a happy ending, after all.
Sports on 11/15/2015