11/3/04 by drinknsmoke79

It was about 3:30 pm when I first saw her, slowly picking out the best pieces to eat. She seemed content, but I knew she was watching me. Only about fifty yards from my front door she stood defiantly, watching, grazing, plotting!!!


It was then that I knew, it was kill or be killed. The little doe that was watching me that day has been the reason I haven’t had a decent nights sleep since that fateful October evening. I have seen her on occasion during my evening hunting trips. I call them trips, but they are no more than a short evening vigil that fills the time between work and the magical Midwestern sunset.


I consider myself to be the hunter on these trips, but the little virgin doe seems to think otherwise. She will do some of her best reconnaissance while I am in my very best camouflage. When I first realized she had to die, I knew it would be tough, but I am now worried that she will not be slain before I myself have been buried in the rich, black southern Illinois sod.


She loves to taunt me by walking just out of my bows range and warning all of the other ravenous whitetails of my presence. Walking on her gangly six month old legs, she already has my number. Unable to slay the tiny, cute beast, I await my fate. I expect it to come by surprise, probably after I have long ago let down my intense guard and shut my watchful eye.


I see it in my dreams, the blood and gore, the little white spots on her back become almost unrecognizable in the intense struggle of man versus beast. When it is all over with, she even has the audacity to raise her white tail and defecate on my chest. The little deer shit pellets rolling off of me onto the ground making a tapping noise. I awake moments later to realize that the noise is my roommate knocking on my door. “Matt, you goin huntin?” he asks through the slightly open bedroom door.
”Yes, yes I am”