The buck slowly walked toward the stonewall, it paused, raised its head and stared in Jane’s direction just as her autofocus caught the eight point antlered animal in the crosshairs of her lens. Majestically, with its ears standing straight up, the large deer eyed Jane as she took aim. A cool breeze tickled the hair on the back of her neck; making her wonder if the buck would get a whiff of her scent and take off, ruining her chance for a clean shot. Just a few seconds more and she would be ready, and then –
Bam! Bam! Bam, roared what could only have been a 12 gauge shotgun. Jane looked in the direction of the sound but couldn’t see where the shooting was coming from. It was very loud and pretty close. When she glanced back toward the buck she wasn’t surprised to see that it had vanished. Actually she was pretty disappointed as she had tracked the animal since daybreak and to have the moment of truth destroyed by a hunter with a magazine full of shotgun slugs really got her blood up. At the same time, she was glad that the hunter wasn’t a very good shot allowing the buck to get away – at least for now. There wasn’t much she could do about the missed opportunity. After three hours of crawling through dense woods and brush, it was a drag to come up empty handed, but Audubon persevered through much worse and he used a paintbrush instead of a digital SLR to capture his moments. Jane decided to call it a day and try again tomorrow.
It had turned out to be a beautiful late fall morning with just the right amount of cold in the air to let you know you were alive. She found her way over to a nearby Conservation trail that she hoped would lead her out of the woods. She knew that in her town hunting was prohibited on Conservation Land, which was somewhat comforting since she still hadn’t seen or heard anything from the hunters that had caused the earlier ruckus. The trail was well marked and as Jane hiked along, she pulled out a map to get her bearings. She noticed that there was a stonewall around the next bend that ran along the edge of the Conservation parcel, and then after passing through a mature pine grove the trail would dump her out on a country road not far from where she had parked her antique MG.
Jane had been “retired” for the last few years after a fast paced climb through the ranks of corporate America. Possessing a photographic mind and an IQ of 185, she had tremendous assets that offset the usual roadblocks set up for women on their way to the executive suite. Her blond hair, great figure, and what most would call an elegant beauty completed a formidable package that had stamped her ticket to the top.
After sowing her oats in sales for half a dozen years, she quit her job, went on a month long safari to Uganda and Tanzania, and came home and enrolled at Harvard Business School to earn her MBA. After graduating from B-school, Jane spent the next 15 years working for a handful of luxury goods companies in her ever increasing climb up the corporate ladder. Her work took her to some of the world’s most interesting and exciting places and she always traveled in style with first class accommodations. On occasion there would be a chance to stay over and have a little fun, sometimes there would be a man to share it with, but more often she enjoyed meeting native people and experiencing their unique cultures. Over the years Jane became enamored with photography and she became quite good at it – just like everything else she tried – she had the creative eye to see things that the average person would miss. Her photo collection was enormous and took up dozens of shoeboxes that she stored under her bed. Her collection gave her something to always complain about – never having enough rainy days to spend her weekends organizing and setting up albums of all the places she had photographed. It was the only area of her life that was unorganized. After 15 years of focusing on her career, it was pretty much all that Jane had to show for her life – that and her latest position as Chief Strategy Officer of her most recent employer.
One day she sat staring out the window across to the Empire State Building and realized that she was missing something. Not being an impulsive person, she went against her instincts. She walked next door to the CEO’s office and dropped a resignation letter in his lap with an uncharacteristic impetuous smile. He glanced up at her quizzically, thinking that it had to be a practical joke, but with the look he received in return, the boss knew he had to cancel his next meeting.
The CEO was only able to win a short reprieve. Eight months later, he received the same letter again, and this time he knew that his case was lost. He wished her well with a very generous severance package.
Jane moved to the country in Massachusetts, just far enough outside of Boston that she could soothe her passion for wildlife photography, but close enough that she could still get a good meal and a spa treatment in the city when she felt the need. She had also met Hal, a man that lived in her small town that owned a small confectionery business and was cosmopolitan enough to share a good story and a lot of laughs. Three years later, Jane was beginning to feel as if she belonged as her sphere of friends grew and her time was taken up with charity work, horseback riding, and various small town activities, like hiking on the town’s conservation trails.
Jane was walking her usual brisk pace, still thinking about the majesty of the buck she missed capturing, but she didn’t miss any of the birds or squirrels along the way as she continued down the path. As she came around a bend in the trail the woods thinned out quite a bit and opened up into a beautiful meadow. Along one side of the open field was the stonewall she had noticed on the map and every fifty feet or so there was a gigantic oak tree that had been planted generations ago by a long forgotten farmer, that perfectly framed the property line. Not one for landscapes, she couldn’t help herself and stopped at the edge of the woods and snapped a couple of scenic pictures. She glanced down into her camera bag to stow away a few items as she walked, and was approaching one of the large oaks when she looked back up and had a double-barrel shotgun pointed right at her from behind the nearest oak tree.
Jane screamed as loud as she could and dove for the ground at her feet. She heard several men laughing as she looked up from the trail bed to see if she was going to die. Three men came out from behind the large oak and continued laughing at her, but this time with their guns lowered. Jane stood up and began dusting herself off as her face flushed red with mounting anger. The hunters were all wearing camouflage pants and coats and smelled like they worked in a brewery. They looked less like sportsmen and more like rowdies interested in starting a bar fight. As the laughter subsided, one of the three hunters recognizing the disdain on Jane’s face asked with slurred speech if she knew that it was hunting season, and admonished her for not wearing any orange colored clothing. At this point, Jane was beside herself with rage, and in clipped words she pointed out that she was on Conservation Land and that hunting was prohibited. The Neanderthal that had pointed the gun at her, thought for a minute and said, “The bullet don’t know that!” His response sent a chill down her spine.
Although technically standing on privately owned land, they clearly were doing their hunting over the Conservation parcel. Jane told them that if they hadn’t been drinking, perhaps their judgment would be better. The man with slurred speech began to provide a retort, but his buddies realizing that he was making her case for her, grabbed him by the arm, and spun him around pointing him away from Jane. As they did this she noticed a can of Budweiser sticking out of the man’s rear pocket. One of the other men sneered at Jane that she should mind her own business.
Recognizing that they had guns, were pretty drunk and didn’t much like her, Jane knew it was time to change tactics. Having photographed in the woods for several years during hunting season, she knew that hunting (particularly in Massachusetts) was extraordinarily safe. Hunters were generally very serious people and took their sport just as seriously. Without saying another word, she turned her back and began walking away from them down the trail, as a little distance grew between them the men’s drunken “courage” grew too and they began to hurl numerous disgusting feminist slurs in her direction. Once she had gotten about 50 yards down the trail, Jane broke into a full sprint toward the trailhead. When the hunters were out of sight, she stopped and breathing hard, pulled out her cell phone and speed dialed Hal. By the time she got to the road at the end of the trail, an Environmental Police jeep was waiting for her. A few minutes later, Hal pulled up behind the jeep.
As Hal checked to see if she was alright, Jane told the Ranger her story, and he was pissed. “It’s always one or two yahoos that ruin it for the rest! With the deer population out of control in this part of the state, the last thing we need is the whole community getting up in arms and banning the only means of keeping them in check. I’ll take over from here Miss, if you could meet me at the station later this afternoon, I’ll need you to sign some papers. Thanks for the call Hal – I relish these moments.”
Hal followed Jane back to her house and then took her to the police station to meet with the officer. By the time they got there, the Ranger had already returned and the three hunters were handcuffed to a metal pole in the middle of the room. When they saw Jane come in they began cursing at her – and in a flash, the Ranger cracked them on ribs and they quickly became quiet. They glared at Jane and she told them that they only have themselves to blame.
Jane signed the complaint that the Ranger had prepared. She asked them what would happen to the hunters and he told her that they would lose their privilege to ever hunt in Massachusetts again and would be charged with drunk and disorderly behavior and kept overnight in jail. He also told her that if she wanted to press charges, they would be charged with reckless endangerment which was a felony. It took her only a minute to decide that they would have enough trouble, and she said no.
On the way back to the house, Jane and Hal chatted about the incident and it became clear to Jane what she would be spending her future time on – trail safety and hunter education for her new home town.