Copyright © 1998 by Robert Japenga
The sun filtered through the mix of pine needles and leafless tree branches. It was one of those days when the sky was such a deep blue that you felt you could see the blackness of space behind the blue veneer. I felt my spirit ever so slowly lifting as I sat on an old dry stump deep in the woods. Although it was cold, I was dressed for it and very comfortable. I was beginning to unwind from the worries of the week and was even beginning to feel that immense pressure lift from me. It always happened on vacations. Donna says that even my hair begins to curl after a few days away from the office. Don't ask me for a medical opinion on that one.
But, this was only the first day. John invited me to join him and two others on a deer hunting trip just the previous week when one of the four regulars dropped out. I liked John a lot. We met while I did my residency at the hospital where he was a doctor. Although a little older than I, John and I seemed to have a lot in common and we always had a good time when we were together. Since Donna also liked him, it made it a little easier for me to take off hunting on this whim. Having never been deer hunting and having never shot a deer rifle didn't exactly make me an ideal candidate for the trip.
Larry was a neighbor of John and Warren was one of John's college friends. All three were in their early fifties and in much better shape than me. I never seemed to find the time to perform even the simplest exercise programs. What with the practice and the house and kids, it seems there never was time. I got winded after just a few hours and they convinced me that if I sat on that old dead stump, they would soon chase a deer my way.
Not that I really cared. I wasn't there for the hunt. In fact, if I never fired my rifle, that would have been all right by me. When John called and said that there would be no phone, no TV, and no pressure, I jumped at the chance. We planned to spend the days hunting and the evenings playing cards. Unusually, these three never brought any beer along either. Not that they had anything against it or anything. They just found that it got in the way of the hunt and often risked severe legal problems if there were an accident. All of this suited me just fine.
These guys came prepared. Since they all were relatively well to do, they brought with them a fair number of gadgets to assist in the hunt. They had four terrific walkie-talkies. John even brought a Global Positioning System (GPS) which was capable of providing us our coordinates within 50 feet. By their own admission, they weren't very good woodsman, and it was easy to get lost in those woods. They could use all the help they could get.
"Randy! Did you get 'em?" It was Warren. His words broke mental meandering. I could hear the three of them returning. We only had another half hour of daylight and it was time to head back to the cabin.
"Get who?" I said.
"The 12 point buck we sent your way."
"Didn't see a thing." I knew Warren was kidding. These guys would never have sent a prize like that my way.
"Neither did we." chimed in Larry. The deer population was so out of control, everyone was surprised that we had not seen anything all day. We headed back to the cabin and although the others were dejected, I felt as if I was on cloud nine. The pressure was almost completely gone. Even my hair was starting to curl. The evening of cards loosened everyone up and we all retired exhausted.
The next day found me at a different stump by mid-afternoon. Again, I tired early and the others left me behind, promising to chase a big one my way. They were always careful in placing me near where I would have a shot at one. But, again, I could care less.
Finding myself in the cathedral of the pines, I felt as if I was in an uncommon place. If I had been religious, I would have described the experience as spiritual. My mind drifted aimlessly for a long time. Later in the afternoon, I reflected on the pressure which was so conspicuously absent. Where did it come from? It seems to have been with me since medical school. My job was relatively routine and was not overly complicated. All three kids seemed to be doing reasonably well. Lindsay was still in middle childhood and the two boys seemed to have weathered the bulk of the turmoil of adolescence. At least now I could be seen with them in public. No, it seemed to be related to work. That's why it disappeared whenever I was away from that place. For a brief moment, I wondered if the pressure could have been caused by those fanatics. But I dismissed that since the pressure had been there before they came. Even so, I never even gave them a second glance when I went by.
"Randy, wake up!" It was Warren again. He went on to describe this great encounter they had with three large bucks. I was so naive about hunting, it wasn't until the end of his tale that I realized he was again kidding. Apparently, they had another whole day without seeing one deer. As we headed back for the cabin, the other three were unusually quiet. For the first time on the trip, I was beginning to sense a pressure building in the three of them. The hunting had been so good up there this year, to return home empty handed would be more than disappointing. That night the card game was not very animated, and Warren was threatening to drive into town to get some beer.
The next day found a light dusting of snow. The first of the season. For the others, the tension was thick as the marmalade we used on the toast. Larry's normally gourmet breakfasts were taste impaired that morning. As we walked, some of their tension and pressure began to rub off on me. I was beginning to long for my private stump but was unwilling to feign fatigue.
As we walked, the hunt began to trigger some childhood memories. Their tension was reminiscent of something I had experienced long ago. I remembered my first and only hunting trip with my Dad. I must have been about 10. Every fall, he went pheasant hunting with my uncle, grandfather and some friends. Although I wasn't old enough to hunt, I anticipated that day like a child before Christmas. I was going with the men. It was a sort of rite of passage. When the big day came, my heart was pounding so much with excitement, I thought that all the others were going to hear it as we drove.
I remember traipsing all day through endless corn fields hoping to kick up at least one pheasant. By late in the day, we hadn't seen a thing. As the sun was beginning to set, one of the dogs suddenly froze and began to point. Just then, two good size birds were airborne.
Bam! Bam! "What are they?" Bam! Bam! "I don't know." Bam! Bam!
My first exposure to the up close firings of double barreled shotguns was jarring to say the least. Lucky for the birds but unlucky for our hunting party, they all got away. I was somewhat embarrassed by my family's actions. How could they shoot when they weren't sure they were pheasants? Other than ducks, all other game birds were not in season. Someone later said they may have been quail. It became one of the many unanswered because they were unasked questions of my childhood.
As the day wore on, the tension built. Although I sensed it, I was somewhat able to remain apart from it. Again, I flagged early. John was especially patient with me and again led us to an area with some steep cliffs on both sides. We found a good stump in the middle and I was left to rest, relax and wait.
I spent most of the next hour or so, reflecting on my work. I remembered an old David Crosby song which asked if the money you made was worth the price that it cost. Was my job really so grueling? John's practice was much more demanding than mine. I was never on call. I had lots of time to spend with my family. A lot more than John. I almost never dealt with life or death situations like John. My job was basically routine. Why did I think it was so costly? Just when I thought I was getting somewhere, something caused my train of thought to jump to another topic. As is so often the case, when alone, my mind was skipping like a little puppy from one thing to another.
The new path that I went down, was to reflect on the fact that I was reflecting. I was thinking about how the things that are important to you come to the forefront of your consciousness when you are alone in the quiet. You hardly ever think about them during the rest of your life. One thing that came out of this time on the various stumps was a commitment to take the time to get apart. Even without answers, I knew that it was in the solitude and in the outdoors, where the questions would be addressed. And though there were no answers coming, somehow I knew headway was being made.
Just then I faintly heard Warren yell. "Randy, here he comes! We kicked up a buck." At first, I suspected that they were kidding. Warren, the little boy who cried buck one too many times. Then my heart almost stopped as I caught a brief glimpse of him. He was beautiful. Majestic! He had a very large rack and was moving with a grace that was breath taking. I saw him dart through some of the brush. As the others had skillfully placed me before, he had to pass by me or double back past them. I awkwardly lifted my rifle to my shoulder and began to track him through the brush. For a brief moment, I had him in my cross hairs. I couldn't always see him but I was tracking his movement. For a moment, the movement stopped. Then, in what seemed like minutes, it resumed about 50 feet further along the track. He was getting out of range. He seemed to be moving more slowly now. Larry was on one of the ledges looking down. He shouted. "You better fire now. This is our last chance."
Fat chance with me behind the scope. I was still tracking the movement, but could no longer see him. At last, almost out of desperation, I squeezed the trigger. The sound still rings in my ears to this day. My first and last shot with a deer rifle.
I ran through the brush about 30 yards away. I was bracing myself for the gruesome ending. Having been brought up in our antiseptic society, I wasn't used to seeing the slaughter of our protein source. Even as a doctor, I had always remained somehow divorced from the blood and the gore. I wasn't prepared for the horrible spectacle I was about to see. In fact, I didn't have a clue about what I was to see.
As I raced through the brush, I saw the buck dart away to my left. He wasn't anywhere near where I had fired. What had I shot?! My heart almost stopped as I came across a young man in his early twenties. He was bleeding profusely from a gun shot wound in his side.
I screamed, "John, come quick!" as I dropped to my knees beside him.
John came running through the brush. "What's ........ Oh my God!"
Thankfully, in spite of his insistence that there be no phones, John brought his cellular phone. Even more amazing was that we were barely within range of one of the cells. Although the connection was very poor, John was able to call for a LifeStar helicopter. With his GPS, he was able to give the helicopter exact coordinates of our position. It was more than one hour away.
The others soon followed. Larry raced back to the cabin to get more medical supplies. Warren and I just silently stared and tried not to pass out. The young man was unconscious and bleeding profusely. John worked quickly with what he had at hand to control the bleeding. It seemed like the longest hour of my life.
When at last the helicopter arrived, we carried the young man to the clearing. His pulse was getting weaker. John went with him. The rest of us went back to the cabin to break camp and to drive to the hospital to wait for the outcome.
The silence was both welcome and unbearable. No one said anything. I felt awful. How could I have fired into the brush without seeing the target? What was he doing out there anyway? Somehow, as I always did, I was defending my actions. Even before I am accused, I begin to make a defense. Now I could really use a defense for my indefensible action.
The drive was worse than breaking camp. It was about two and a half hours from the hospital. Larry and Warren were obviously uncomfortable. What can you say in a case like this? Every sentence I framed sounded like an excuse. The tension was back with a vengeance.
At the hospital, we all silently hoped for the best in the smoke filled waiting room. It was touch and go throughout the night. None of us slept. By early morning, the worst was over and there was a chance that he was going to pull through. It turned out that he was a college student from the west coast named Sean. He was attending a college near here. His family was on their way and was going to be here in the afternoon.
As dawn broke, so did our tension and our silence. Sean was a little bit better. Warren broke the silence first.
"God, I hope he's going to be all right!"
Before any of us could respond, a tall and lanky state trooper came up to the four of us.
"Which one of you is Randy Jordan?" he asked.
"I'm Randy." I replied in a slight somatic stupor. My first words since the incident.
"We would like to bring you down to headquarters for some questioning."
Naively thinking it was to help them out I replied, "Sure, however I can help."
I wasn't too concerned about all of this until he read me my rights and asked if I wanted a lawyer.
"What's the charge?" I asked.
"Mr. Jordan, there are no charges yet. You need to know that in this state, we have very strong "reckless endangerment" laws and we also have very strong victims' rights laws. We have so many amateur hunters come into our state who don't know one end of a rifle from another. Hunting is a serious sport here. If the young man doesn't pull through, you will be charged with involuntary manslaughter. As a minimum, if the young man presses charges, you will be charged with reckless endangerment with a firearm. This carries a minimum of one year in prison and a maximum of twenty. Between you, me and the wall Mr. Jordan, the courts don't look very favorably on those who shoot at something just because it was moving. If there is any chance that a discharged weapon could harm a person, the law forbids it."
His words stung like barbs from a dried nettle. Each one was drawing blood. His emphasis on the "any" was condescending. What did he think I was? An imbecile? Some reckless drunk. Did he think I didn't hold human life dear? Of course I would never shoot at something I thought might be a person. And then the consequences kept echoing in my mind. Prison? Twenty years? Manslaughter? It was an accident. I called my lawyer.
The ride to the police headquarters was even more tense than our ride to the hospital. When we arrived, there were a lot of questions concerning our use of alcohol. Apparently, the cabin and its trash had been searched as they were looking for verification of their findings. My mind was racing. Couldn't they see that it was obviously an accident? No crimes are committed by accident. My department of defense was fully funded.
The next two days were a nightmare. I was charged with reckless use of a firearm and still had the threat of involuntary manslaughter hanging over my head. I posted bond and we drove home. Sean was recovering slowly. I even talked with him and his parents before we left. He had been hiking in the area at the time. He didn't even know it was hunting season.
When we got home, my lawyer explained to me that the law was pretty rigidly enforced in that state and that there wasn't a lot of room for maneuvering. Why is it that it seems that real criminals have so much room for maneuvering? My old department of defense was kicking in all over the place. He also warned me against saying any more to Sean or to his family as a civil suit was highly probable. The pressure built in me like in a tea kettle and I was ready to blow. Donna and the kids were great, but it kept getting worse for me.
Sunday night, my lawyer called and said that Sean's family was not going to press civil charges if he pulled through. They would just ask for medical compensation and for the costs of his lost semester at school. He said that this would decrease the chances of the state pressing their charges and that they might be dropped. This eased some of the pressure, but it only slightly.
Going back to work on Monday was almost like a relief. The accident was only publicized locally and in Sean's hometown. No one here knew. As I drove, I realized, that maybe my work wasn't as pressured as I once thought. Nothing could compare with what I went through the last few days. I was even feeling quite relaxed going in there. I began to think that maybe the purpose behind all of this was to show me real pressure.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I saw them. All of a sudden the pressure was back. It seemed to be additive. All of the pressure before plus all of the last week. I didn't even have time to question the why's and the wherefores. At that moment I realized how much I hated them. I parked the car, got out, and began to walk toward the office door. Several were hurriedly walking toward me with their stupid placards. I never looked at them. Until that day.
I don't know why I looked up that morning. As I did, there was a placard in my face. I stopped dead in my tracks. On it was a fetus and the words "Unless you're sure I am not human, don't kill me!" My mind went ballistic and raced at supersonic speeds. Was I sure? What if...? At that moment, the strangest and yet most wonderful thing happened to me. It was if a door to the light had opened in a pitch black room. What I had never taken the time to think through or even question became crystal clear. No, I wasn't sure. I resolved a wordless and yet perfectly clear resolution. At that instant, the pressure and tension lifted. I turned around, got in my car, and never looked back.