Dec 15, 2012 3 min read

The fawn stepped out tentatively from the verdant, rich, green forest edge. Slowly, two other fawns followed, then four. Soon, a dozen fawns were playing and romping in the field in front of me.

Slowly, a doe took one step into the field. Soon, there were many doe out in the field’s edge directly in front of my seat, slowly browsing their way into the lush green spring grass.

Cautiously, with his head lowered, out stepped a buck. I knew this buck. We saw him at least three times a week.

I shifted softly in my pile of apple peelings and looked at my mother, sitting to my right. She knew I recognized him and nodded her approval.

I was probably 6 or 7 years old that day, sitting in a clearing I knew and loved.

I had learned early on to be patient. Often, my mother or father would take me out to the field’s edge to watch for deer.

They would cover my lap with apple peels and admonish me to sit still. Being the only daughter of George Block does have its ups and downs.

But I learned so many valuable lessons that have stayed with me all my life. I know the ways of the forest and field and just feel as comfortable there as some people are on their couch.

Now that another deer season is finishing, I decided to try fill in for my dad. Before you think there is something wrong with him, remember that it is deer season. He is out like all of his buddies, chasing this year’s record buck.

He tells me that not just any buck will do this year. It will only be a trophy buck.

But let’s wait until he has tired out and that OK deer walks his way. Then, we’ll see if he shoots.

I hope his loyal readers have been teaching someone they know to appreciate the sport and to see nature and our resources as valuable.

My parents never missed an opportunity to teach us about good deer management.

I remember one winter trip to the mountains we made to a remote area well populated with deer in the spring. My mom took my brother with her, and I stayed with my dad.

We covered an area of heavily wooded cover and found dead deer everywhere. They were skinny and in horrible condition.

When we met up with mom, my dad explained to us that the deer had starved. There were too many deer in an area that was not heavily hunted.

I hope hunters appreciated the days they spent afield. Trophy bucks might have been on your mind, but for me, I’ll always be thinking about sitting at a wood’s edge, the smell of apples and fawns leaping about on a twilight that seems not so long ago.

Kathy Ward is a teacher in Washington School District.