Memories From Opening Day

February 19, 2009 by admin

By Doug Leier

Scanning the verizon

Opening day of deer season 2004 is in the books. Traditions have been kept alive, memories added to the family tree, and possibly the birth of a local legend or two.

I’ve never been much of an opening day deer hunter, but from 1996 to 2000 I was a state game warden, first in Bottineau and then West Fargo, and from those years I have many opening day stories.

Without a doubt, 1996 is my most memorable deer season.

The night before the opener I couldn’t sleep a wink. Visions of what morning would bring snowballed in my head. After 10 months on the job, I was ready, but didn’t know for what.

As I patrolled my district nearing the high noon deer opener, I positioned myself on the edge of a hill, my spotting scope gripping the window, and watched a group of hunters pace anxiously outside their pickup 30 minutes before noon.

A few of the five or so hunters appeared excited, jumping up and down and near a tree belt, while others waited, warm inside idling trucks.

The anxious ones couldn’t wait. Fifteen minutes before the legal opener the push was on. While they didn’t flush any deer or shoot before noon I instinctively documented what was happening and held myself back.

A short time later the group flushed a few deer and a barrage of shots erupted. I watched one deer crumple up into a brown ball in the stubble, another ran a few meters farther and it too was a clean kill. I thought a third was also downed, but was unsure of the exact location.

A minor chaos followed with some hunters tagging and field dressing deer, while others continued to push the field. Another hunter exited the field and headed back to the truck.

As a hunter and green rookie warden, my first thought was to hurry down and see how big of a deer was in the bag. Don’t forget, this was my first deer season as a warden and my naïvete was not yet replaced by pessimism. But soon it would be.

After the truck retreated from the field, and the hunters were loading up, I advanced my position a half mile down to the hunters.

As I exited my patrol vehicle I was greeted by several casual acquaintances. At that time in my life I thought of everybody I met as a friend. That too would change. We traded greetings, but apprehension filled the air.

I asked how the first walk produced. To my surprise, what I witnessed as a productive first hour of deer season, drew the response, “Oh, not too bad.” This added to my suspicion.

Checking deer hunters

I checked licenses and verified the two deer tagged in the back of the pickups. In my mind, I still was thinking another deer lay motionless opposite the shelterbelt, but from my vantage point I wasn’t sure.

The body language and short answers tipped me off and I asked a few more questions about the fate of the third deer. The hunters whom I didn’t know clammed up and the spokesman became agitated at the continued questions. “Nope we didn’t hit that one, we just got two deer,” was his gruff response.

As I finished up my field check I shook my head in disbelief. Had I not seen another deer?

With the hunters leaving, I drove down a nearby section line and after a short canvas found the dead, undisturbed deer lying untagged.

I nearly jumped out the window of my truck and was hopping mad. They shot it, didn’t tag it, left it and lied. I was getting hotter by the minute as I loaded the deer in my truck.

I sped back, but the hunters had disappeared. I had pencil-scratched the vehicles’ license plate numbers on my field check, and had a description of the occupants, so I radioed the sheriff’s office and requested an all points bulletin. I was less than 120 minutes into my first ever deer season and I’m sure the dispatcher was shaking her head as the new guy was stirring the pot.

As I drove the area in search of the violators, the dispatcher came over the radio. Apparently, the suspects had a scanner and heard my request that any law enforcement stop and arrest the poachers. The guilty party realized they were caught and turned themselves in.

Did that make it any better? Not much. I felt betrayed and can tell you at that exact moment pessimism replaced the benefit of the doubt.

I felt a sense of accomplishment; I had done my job but realized that enforcing game and fish laws would come with a price. I would now assume the label as a jerk game warden which even the nicest ones are called at times.

There’s a reason for this. It’s because they do their job.