By J. Bakes
We are all chasing the next high. To feel that rush. Memories of the past are anchored by moments that hit hardest. That beautiful mix of adrenaline and dopamine, endorphins and serotonin, risk and performance, excitement and success.
People have found all kinds of ways to manufacture this feeling. Based on use statistics many take the easy road and snort, smoke, and shoot various substances to artificially catch it. The deeper, more rewarding, and socially accepted method is what I’m talking about—achieving something very hard momentarily through invested effort and a high degree of ability. Close the deal, win the game, ace the exam, get the girl, survive a dangerous situation. There are all sorts of ways, but in the end the result is the same—an evolutionary-based chemical reward unlike anything else.
Chasing a Proper High
On paper, Eastern whitetail deer hunting is a hard sell. Sit your ass in a tree, don’t move, stay focused the entire time, you’ll likely be cold, and just hope (with varying degrees of confidence) that a deer gets within range. For archery hunting it’s even less attractive. Range is limited and access to the vitals matters. What the uninitiated don’t appreciate is this type of hunting has the ability to produce a rush that you’ll chase forever.
Prime rut means all-day sits. In well before the idea of dawn, watching the sun traverse the entire sky, realizing back at the truck after sunset you haven’t spoken a word since the night before. While dedicated, it can get flat-out boring. I’ve settled on what I justify as the lesser of two evils. I hunt with my eyes, so when the day is long, I will pop in some headphones and tune in to the local Oklahoma radio broadcast of Sooner football, especially when it’s the Red River Shootout with Texas. Purists will scoff. They can go to hell. At least I’m not looking down at my phone.
A Good Day
In 2021 the woods were still, and I was suffering through a Texas-sized beatdown. Coming out of halftime, trailing by 21, OU put in the backup with nothing to lose and high hopes for a change in fortune. Always searching, looking, trying to see the slightest movement, I stayed engaged with the woods. Quickly Oklahoma started moving the ball and putting up points. And then it happened. A heavy 10-point walked around a thicket and was in my space. Fully focused, I stood, slowly getting in position. A few more steps and a bit of a turn was all that was needed to get a shot. With no time to mute, I drew while Tobey Rowland from KRXO 107.7 excitingly announced the close game. Continuing to hold, breathing deep to control the aim, allowing the sight to float on target, ignoring the burn in my arm and the noise in my ear. With a smooth release the lighted knock zipped across the 30 yards. I knew it was money the second it left my bow.
Off he ran to privately take his last breath. I sat down awash in the sweet cerebral concoction produced by success and looking forward to the work of dragging, field dressing, skinning, quartering, and butchering such a fine deer. I knocked another arrow just in case Lady Luck was really with me and sat back to see how the game would end. Some days it’s just your day. OU achieved the biggest come back in the rivalry’s 94-year history.
