There’s something strangely serene yet haunting about being in pitch black wilderness. Deer season in the panhandle of Texas means you’re awake early and in position before light even just barely begins to turn the sky from any empty void to the deep purples and reds of a beautiful sunrise. Wearing layers to help fight off the freezing cold winds that seem to penetrate down into your bones while doing your best to keep your teeth from chattering and using the dream of that perfect buck as just another layer of warmth to keep your focus. The risk versus reward always seemed a little lopsided out here as I shivered uncontrollably.
I was always an early bird when it came to hunting. The sun wouldn’t rise for a couple hours when I arrived at my hunting grounds. This was perfect. Plenty of time to make my way down this particular game trail that led to the river splitting this valley down the middle. The night vision scope of my rifle was as good as one could hope for when it came to navigating under the new moon. I had learned my lesson and got some big rubber boots to wear in the water. It was cold enough without my feet being soaked in this shallow but frigid stream. Sitting on the muddy bank, I took my hiking boots off and tied them to my backpack. Slipping on the rubber boots and taking extra care to not trip in the sticky mud, I carefully made my way against the current for a couple hundred yards. Minimizing sound isn’t easy when every splash from your footsteps feels like a thundering crash. There was one particular spot that I wanted to place my container of doe estrus scent. After some trial and error, I realized that the harsh winds blowing down in the valley for quite a way was something I could use to my advantage, maximizing the distribution of the scent and thus maximizing the potential for drawing in some nice bucks that only have one thing on their mind at this time of year.
I’d seen plenty of bucks chasing after a doe and I always chuckled at the fact that he didn’t have to catch up to her, he just needed to keep up. That hormone-fueled tunnel vision is what I was counting on. The water was used like a highway for nearly every animal around there. The grass on the valley floor, sometimes towering over me and I’m 6 feet tall, combined with the various debris of fallen trees and cactus made even the animals think twice about walking through it unless they absolutely needed to. The hundreds of footprints varying from a few minutes to a few days old had confirmed that theory for me. The wind would carry the scent and channel it along the water. Ol’ Bucky McDeerface would catch that aroma and would be powerless to resist the temptation. Upon reaching the spot I wanted, confirming through my scope that I was at the right place, I poured out the estrus. Gosh does that stuff stink. Get it on your hands or clothes and you’re not gonna have a fun time. Now it was time to walk back the way I came, climb out of the water, switch back into my hiking boots, and begin the trek to my overlook where the sight was unmatched.
I was proud of my little hide. 110 yards from where I sat to the muddy bank where I deployed the scent, according to my rangefinder. Situated between some boulders, I was somewhat shielded from the pelting wind. The line of sight was clear, so there was little worry about missing anything. Ascending the steep hill was a taxing endeavor, mostly because there were 2 hills to get over before I would be in place. As I walked, I periodically scanned my rifle around me, using the night vision to keep myself on track while also trying to get an idea of what was around me. Sometimes the infrared illuminator attached to the scope would pick up some eyes shining at me, only visible through the small screen carefully covered to prevent showing too much light. Usually it was a deer or a coyote, and occasionally a pack of coyotes likely doing the same thing I was doing. Surveying the land to begin the hunt. At least they knew to keep their distance. Discouraging the curious with a bullet through the brain was plenty to make sure they left me alone after the last time I had found one of the pack getting too close for comfort. Once I was in place, there wasn’t really any practical way to sneak up on me. Between the steep decline to the bottom of the hill, and the loose gravel going uphill at my back, I felt pretty safe.
After what felt like an eternity of slowly making my way to my spot, I could finally take a minute to catch my breath and then squeeze tightly between the boulders and do my best to stay awake until I’d be legally allowed to take a shot. Staring through the scope, I could clearly see the river and about 100 yards beyond it in a fairly wide area, thanks to the range of the IR light. Anything that fell in the range of the light was what I considered a safe shot. Close enough to ensure a clean kill, but far enough to not be spotted. It was after maybe 15 minutes of waiting that I heard an odd sound. It almost sounded like a laugh or some kind of gibberish, but that couldn’t be right. I was the only person out here. So what made that sound? Coyotes didn’t sound like that, their barks and yelps often being heard a long way off. No way it was a deer either. At least not any deer that could be found around here. It put me on edge a little, but I tried to rationalize whatever it may or may not have been. A few minutes later and it happened again, this time more clear, like a hyena making that laughing sound. No hyenas around here, at least I thought so.
Trying to get over being jittery, I just kept looking through the scope. It would be a while longer until it was light enough to shoot. But that’s when I saw the eyes looking at me, down on the bank at the edge of the tall grass. It didn’t move a muscle, and neither did I, until another set of eyes just blinked into existence. Behind me there was noise. Oddly enough there was a voice that sounded like baby Groot. That small kind of scratchy voice, but it was entirely unintelligible. I took a deep breath and held it, trying to will the wind to quiet down so I could listen closely. There was another small sound that made something akin to a reply to the other voice. This got me nervous. 2 sets of eyes locked on me down below, and 2 distinct sounds behind me, up the hill and over the crest a little.
This is a good time to say that the rifle I had with me was my AR-15. With 2 full mags and a pistol in my backpack with 2 mags as well, I had 60 rounds of 5.56mm and 30 rounds of 9mm. Why so much for hunting? Because I can and I felt like it. Plain and simple. Throw in a good sized bowie knife, and safety from any animal felt like the least of my problems. Anyway, attached to my rifle was a laser/light designator. The laser was green and in the visible spectrum of light with a range of over 600 yards when used in the dark. More than a few times I had used it to mess with a raccoon or opossum to pass the time. Seeing them scurry after the green dot was some quality entertainment. It also worked well as a deterrent if I got the chance to put the dot into an eye. Not to do any permanent damage, I’m not a cruel person, but just enough to give whatever creature it might be the chance to go away if needed. I say all this to explain the what I was about to do.
As the minutes were passing, I could hear the little voices growing louder and more diverse behind me. At least 4 different voices now. Down below at the edge of the grass were 3 more sets of eyes. That made 5 of varying heights that I could make out in my scope. None of them seemed very tall with the biggest being maybe 3 feet, judging by the height of the grass down there. They never waivered in the slightest despite moving left or right a few feet. This felt like it was getting out of hand. I was being closed in on from behind, and given the steep gradient of the hill, I didn’t really have anywhere to go. I had to try something, anything, to try and get away safely. That’s where the laser came in. I didn’t want to shoot unless I had to because it was still too dark and I wasn’t wanting to risk explaining this to a random game warden that just happened to hear the shot. Unless I could clearly prove that whatever I shot was in self defense, I might be looking at a heavy fine for taking an animal before shooting hours.
With the consequences in my mind, I slid my left hand forward and found the button to activate the laser. In the darkness, a bright green dot flared into life and I carefully moved it toward one of the eyes. As soon as the laser blended with the shine of the eye, a horrendous scream filled the air. It made me jump because it was so loud. Then the screaming started from behind me. All these things were in unison and it was deafening. Then at once they stopped and the valley fell quiet again. Maybe 30 seconds went by when I heard a tap next to me. It sounded like a small rock hitting one of the boulders. Then another, and another. They started streaming in, bouncing off the rocks and feeling them land on my legs and back. Luckily because of the cold I had multiple layers on and that kept me from feeling anything worse that light thuds. Nonetheless it was terrifying. These things were hurling rocks in a torrent. I took a deep breath and prepared for part 2 of my brilliant plan.
I held my rifle in a death grip and stood up as fast as I could. Bringing the scope to my eye and turning to face the top of the hill, I couldn’t see anything other than rocks briefly flashing in the infrared as they launched in high arcs in my direction. Thinking this was either a good idea or a bad one, I charged up the hill, stumbling over rocks and brush but never taking my eye off the scope. Out of breath, but at the crest, I hit the button for the light and looked everywhere as I tried to find whatever was throwing rocks. Everything went dead still for a moment. Scanning left and right, forward and back, I searched frantically but saw nothing. Seeing the path I had used to get up there, I took off in a careful jog, doing my best to not fall. From behind me, the screaming and rocks began again. After finding what looked like a good spot for cover, I made myself as small as possible and took aim up the hill. Rocks pinged around me, some bouncing off my rifle, some bouncing off my head. I was waiting to see some eyes because I was putting a bullet directly between them. But no eyes showed. Finding no targets, I went back to getting the hell out of there. The screams turned into maniacal cackling that reminded me of the critters from the movie Gremlins. That was plenty of motivation to keep running.
Eventually the rocks stopped, but the laughs continued. They followed me all the way back to my truck. The last glimpse I got was when I cranked the engine and the headlights pierced the blackness. 9 pairs of eyes were reflecting from just inside the grass and brush. After making sure I hadn’t left anything behind, I shifted into drive and smashed the gas, spinning the wheel and sending a spray of gravel in their direction. Whether they flew far enough to hit them, I didn’t know, but it made me feel better as I sped down the road and tried to comprehend what just happened. Whatever they were, they felt predatory and moved extremely fast. Couple that with their ability to coordinate, and suddenly the hunter became the hunted.