Dave Nichols: Harvesting of deer takes on added significance against backdrop of personal health struggles

I got a deer this fall. That’s not really news – I manage to get a deer most years. The idea that I was able to be in the woods at all was the important thing.

All things considered, I’m a very lucky guy.

You see, what was supposed to be a fairly routine health screening in March led to emergency double-bypass open heart surgery less than 36 hours later.

I wrote about the experience and my recovery extensively in May (tinyurl.com/32cmkfxh) if you would like to read about the grisly details.

After my successful surgery – essentially saving my life – my surgeon detailed my recovery plan, with a target of eight to nine months before I would feel “normal” again. That made hunting season my target, and being able to be healthy, functioning and independent in the woods my goal.

I am proud to say I followed all of my doctors’, therapists’ and nurses’ instructions and after a six-month rehab protocol was cleared for all physical activity just in time for hunting season.

You can simulate conditions as much as you want, but you never know how you’ll react in the field until you’re out there.

The first few days at camp were uneventful. Unseasonably warm temperatures across the mid-Atlantic in October and November and windy conditions the week before Thanksgiving made my annual trip home to Virginia more of a camping trip – at least to start.

Not that I did any complaining. Just to have the opportunity to catch up with family and old, dear friends was well worth the effort.

Most of the other guys in camp live in the area and are mostly weekend hunters. The county we hunt in has an extended season from the Saturday before Thanksgiving until the Saturday after New Year’s, so there’s no need for them to come in and camp for a week to 10 days to maximize their hunting season.

The woods were full of hunters for opening day of rifle season, but it came and went with few deer spotted by anyone, and everyone cleared out Sunday evening for work the next day.

Now, my wife wasn’t thrilled that I would be alone in the woods for a couple of days, but I assured her I would be even more cautious than I normally am. Besides, with the abundance of cell towers in the region I just had to make it out of the hollow to get service if I needed emergency help.

Monday was quiet, and it had been four days since I had seen a deer on stand. As I’ve written before in this space, if I don’t shoot another deer in my life, I wouldn’t be disappointed. The killing has never been the thing that has driven me.

It’s the entire experience – from the initial planning to the hours scouting to (especially) the campfire camaraderie to bringing the quarry to table. Heck, I even really enjoy the process of field dressing and butchering.

But it doesn’t hurt when a plan finally comes together.

On Tuesday, I headed out well before dawn to my favorite spot on the property – a saddle that forms something of a field, situated between two deep ravines and bordered by a pine thicket, one that for several years has been a high-traffic conduit between bedding and feeding areas. I took a buck out of it a couple of years ago, and scouting the prior week showed another had been marking the territory as his.

I climbed into my single-seat ladder stand, secured my gear, and nestled back against the tree just before the pink-orange hue of daylight started to filter through the trees to my back. A quick temperature check said 41 degrees and, more important, the wind had finally subsided to an occasional gentle breeze.

I enjoyed a midmorning snack of oatmeal cream pie cookies and a Coke Zero around 8:15 a.m., then at 9:30 I stretched my legs and decided to give it another hour.

Not 10 minutes after I sat back down, I got “that feeling.” Akin to Spider-Man’s “Spidey sense,” whether I heard, saw or smelled it first I’ll never know, but a big buck was trotting to my right, coming from behind about 90 yards off.

I’m a left-handed shot, so it was simple for me to shoulder my weapon – my grandfather’s Marlin Model 336 lever-action .35 Remington loaded with modern ballistics – and get into position to shoot. I didn’t have any time to think, let alone succumb to “buck fever.”

As soon as the mature buck moved into my scope, I let off a round and he dropped in his tracks.

Since he was moving at a good clip, it was not the cleanest shot – back and high. I severed his spine just in front of his hips, and it required a second shot to dispatch the animal, which I did as quickly and humanely as possible. It was a 10-point buck – six on one side, including two brow tines, and four on the other side.

Thus began the first real, true test of my return to fitness.

Since I was alone in the woods, I was left to my own devices to field dress, transport, hang and butcher my harvest.

Field dressing a deer isn’t complicated, but it is much easier with a second set of hands. Doing the job solo, I proceeded slowly and cautiously. It took a lot of careful effort, but I was finally able to get him ready for transport.

I couldn’t lift his weight onto my ATV, so I set up a pulley system to get his head off the ground and tie it up to the bike, then with one hand on the back legs and another on the tail, lifted him to my thighs, then hoisted his hind quarters to the rack on the back of my bike. It took three attempts to get him up there, but I finally got the job done.

As I sat there regaining my composure, I realized that while yes, I exerted a lot of effort and energy to get that deer onto my ATV, I did it without once experiencing – or even thinking about – any pain that I once had behind my sternum.

Any question about the fitness of my cardiac system following my surgical experience was finally, and completely, answered. I was also fully cognizant of the fact that I would not have been physically able to accomplish the feat last year.

As I said earlier, I’m a very lucky guy. Lucky that doctors figured out and corrected a life-threatening problem. Lucky that my recovery and rehabilitation went off without a hitch. Lucky that my body adjusted to an increase of physical activity. And lucky that when finally field-tested, my body responded with enough strength and endurance to be able to confidently do the job required.

And lucky that I’m still here able to tell the tale.