AT HOME ON THE RANGE
A onetime city slicker hits the great outdoors to hunt — and winds up with respect for deer
GROWING up in Chicago and then spending a decade living in Bayonne, NJ, I didn’t get much opportunity to commune with nature. But after moving with my family to rural Orange County, NY, a few years ago, I became curious about country life. I began to grow my own vegetables, and I grew interested in hunting for my dinner.
That’s how I wound up in the woods on a late September day bow-hunting for deer with Fisher Neal, who hosts guided hunts for clueless New Yorkers.
Despite what his Web site, LearnToHuntNYC.com, suggests, Neal is an unlikely instructor. A graduate of the Yale School of Drama — where his classmates included Oscar winner Lupita Nyong’o — Neal has worked on Broadway and in regional theater, trained in singing and dance, and tends bar and does theatrical carpentry. But he’s also nursed a longtime passion for hunting. A native of Knoxville, Tenn., he was dove hunting with his dad by the age of 5, and by the time he was 10, he had his own hunting license.
“I’m pretty sure I was the only one changing out of tights after bal- let and putting on camo gear and heading out for the opening-day dove hunt,” says Neal, who’s been offering one-on-one lessons and guided hunts in New Jersey, charging $565 for a full day, with other options available at different prices.
Most of his clients tend to be men in their mid-30s to mid-50s, with extra income to spend. They’re either interested in the sport and want to get started or had shown interest in the past and let it fade.
To get started, you need a hunting license, which you can obtain after attending a required safety seminar. This year, New Jersey began issuing apprentice licenses, which allow anyone to obtain a permit to hunt as long as they are accompanied by a mentor such as Neal.
Bow-hunting season in New Jersey, which began Sept. 9, runs through Feb. 17. In New York, bowhunting season opened on Oct. 1 for most of the state. (There is no hunting permitted in New York City or Nassau County.) Check DEC.ny.gov/Outdoor for the exact dates of the season.
On the big day, I meet Neal at an archery range in Kearny, NJ, at about 9:30 a.m. He shows me the mechanics of the crossbow, proper safety and how to shoot. A crossbow is basically a gun with a bow and arrow on it, and fires with incredible force.
After an hour, I feel like a champion archer, so we drive down the road to the local Walmart to pick up my $135 apprentice license.
We then drive an hour south to central Jersey and one of Neal’s favorite spots, a state park in Somerset County. It’s a place he knows well and likes for its diverse landscape. There are hillsides that stop at field edges, a perfect highway for deer to get around, Neal says. Nearby fields of crops provide them with a daily feast. We do a mixture of scouting to look for clues of deer movement and foraging along the way.
Neal points out plants like autumn olive (its small, red berries taste tart like cranberries), mugwort (which can be used as a tea) and puffball mushrooms (edible bulbous fungi). He talks to me about the importance of red and white oak trees, how to identify the leaves and how its acorns feed deer. We continue to push through the brush on this hot day, and we’re drenched with sweat.
“You can see all this activity here,” Neal says, pointing to fresh hoof prints and droppings in the mud. “They bed down in the tall grass during the day. They could be superclose, but we’d never see them.”
Suddenly excited, he says, “Man, I haven’t seen activity like this in a while!”
At about 4 p.m., we head to the tree stand Neal has set up. It’s off the beaten path and overlooks a clearing where he’s baited the deer with corn. “I dumped 100 pounds, and there’s only about 15 pounds left,” he says. Neal confesses to mixed feelings about the practice of baiting. He never did it growing up in Tennessee because it was against state law, but it is allowed in Jersey.
The tree stand towers 20 feet into the air, and as I look up, I suddenly remember my fear of heights. Neal manages going up and down like a speedy elevator, while I start my climb with much doubt. A safety harness is my lifeline and I never look down.
I eventually get to the top and plop down in my seat, catch my breath and look at my patch of forest like a predator. I haul up the crossbow by rope and Neal joins me in the seat next to mine. He hands me an arrow to load, and we sit and glove wait in silence.
Hunting is a tranquil sport. You immerse yourself in nature for hours, sitting silently in the hopes that an animal appears and presents itself to you. Jersey law states that no shooting is allowed from 30 minutes after sunset, and 7:30 p.m. was our limit.
An hour before our time expires, Neal says to me in a whisper, “Right now is prime time! At this point, they’re all on their feet.” As light escapes, the novice hunter in me feels pessimistic.
Just as the clock runs out, and darkness begins to creep into the forest, a massive body silently emerges from the trees and takes two steps out toward the opening in front of me.
Even after sitting for hours and picturing a deer stepping out as I calmly take aim and pull the trigger to put it down, my heart hits the top of my throat upon actually seeing it before me. The deer suddenly freezes like a statue and stays put, as if she senses my excitement. As I stare at her, I hardly breathe to avoid moving. The deer breaks the staring contest after a few minutes and snorts toward me twice, turning around and going back the way she came.
Shortly after, Neal taps me on the shoulder to tell me time’s up. At that point it doesn’t matter, because it’s too dark to make any shot, and my nerves are a mess.
In the dark, with the aid of a flashlight, he guides me back out toward the main trail.
With the passion of hunting ignited, I want to return to sit and wait again. Being in the presence of a doe is a reward in itself, but hunt- ing is all about the willingness to fail over and over just to relive the moment when you come face to face with your prey.
In the end, I leave the woods with no casualties other than a dropped glove.