The Timber Wolf In Minnesota: Part 2

During the 2004 deer season, and most deer seasons, my main activity, as the youngest member of the group, was what we call locally, “driving”, or walking woods, a common chore assigned to the youngest member of the deer hunting party. The oldest of our hunting group stayed back up by the road with his rifle, in case any deer tried to backtrack, and my father posted at the far end of the stand of forest I was going to walk, waiting for any deer to come out during the mid-afternoon drive. I walked into the woods, and it was tough going. Thorns and buckbrush, along with swampy ground, made for difficult walking. I made it about halfway through my drive, and stopped at a small opening, before beginning the push to finish this unpleasant walk, and I hadn’t heard Dad or the old cattle farmer shoot anything after the first part of the drive. I left the clearing, and entered the thick brush again, my .30-.30 Marlin loaded.  I crouched down to avoid some thorns and saw two hypnotic gray eyes, and  I will never forget them staring at me from thick cover about 20 yards directly to the south of me, which gave me a shooting line, without having to worry about my dad’s location. In all honesty, when I saw those two eyes, my blood ran cold, and I took off the gun’s safety.