The
Hunter
He checked his gear, picked up his Winchester 70 rifle and the back pack and stepped out side the hut. He usually never locked the door behind him but this morning he did. Every few months he came to this place
for hunting. The hut was bought by his dad in good old days when
there was hardly any population and the prices were cheap. It was
only two hours drive from his city house and located in the mountain
range that started in the north. The forestation was depleting and so
was the game, but he came up once in a while just for serenity if not
game.
Mostly he was accompanied by his wife. This time, however, he was alone, because she had passed away six months back. And it was only now that
he was visiting the place with the hope that his old passion for
hunting may relieve his grief, somewhat. This time around he knew
there would be no breakfast waiting for him when he returned. No
discussions on the purpose of his hobby that was hunting or arguments
over his habits of leaving things half done. The void left by his
life partner was not to be filled by anything on heavens and earth
and he tried to cope with it as soberly as possible.
It was still an hour to dawn. He walked towards the lake which was half an hours further down the trek. That would leave him with half an hour
to settle in and wait for the animals to start arriving at the water
front. His quota allowed him one deer per year, and he had none this
year so far. In fact none for the past two years. Once he got a puma
but that was almost two decades ago and they were rare to find these
days �" probably also banned for hunting. The most common game were
ducks which were frequent and many.
As he settled down in the shrubs and readied his rifle, his mind was
elsewhere, surely his soul was. The thrill of the game that got all
hunters going was not there and it was as if he was performing a
ritual devoid of any emotions. He put the round in the bolt action
rifle that was considered a classic. Looked around to see any thing
unusual but didn't; it was still dark and he was past 70. He sat
there motionless and his mind drifted to his wife, his only love for
the past 45 years. She always kept him going and pushed him forward
when he felt reluctant. She was hearty and spendthrift and lavishly
treated anyone who came in contact with her; quite the opposite to
what he was.
With the
first light, animals started pouring in and he readied himself for
some deers to appear. He only had to wait ten minutes when four of
them appeared together. He was rarely so lucky. He picked his rifle
and while lying down put the sight on the animal clearest in view.
The animals adjusted themselves and stood still over the water. He
knew he had few minutes before they moved away so he put the aim
steady and moved the finger over the trigger. At last, he could feel
his heart beating faster as adrenal pumped in. But the next few
moments he lay there in the same position and kept watching the
animals. The thought crossing his mind had never crossed before. They
were probably pairs, and if he killed one the other would
loose its partner. His finger eased and a few moments later the
animals moved away and then disappeared. He sat up and turned around.
Just then, the bushes to his right rumbled and a full grown bear
appeared. It stood up to display its full might and then charged
towards him. He fired the only round in the gun at point blank range,
which stopped the bear with a thud. He reloaded and and fired another
into the lying beast to make sure the animal was dead. He stood there
for what seemed ages, thinking what could have been if he had fired
at the deer. He returned to his cottage and drove away in the
afternoon. He never returned for hunting for the rest of his life.
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