The Poachers Moon

As the beautiful full moon rose on Friday evening my mind wandered back to the days when Willard and I were Deputy Wildlife Conservation Officers.

November was the month of the Deer Poacher.

Sporadic reports of night shooting would begin filtering in during August and increase with each passing week. As late November approached the calls of illegal hunting activity were coming in almost daily. The nature of the call would vary from that of late night gunshots being heard, to finding deer with only heads removed, to incidents where the landowners encountered or chased the offenders.

As Deputy Officers we worked whenever we could find time between our full time careers and family obligations. November was the month of little sleep. Weekends were spent doing long nights of patrol, often barely making it to bed before the dawn.

Watching this moon rise reminded me of those times. It reminded me of those beautiful cold clear nights standing outside our vehicles watching and listening for the poachers. By the light of the moon the dark shapes of deer would frequently pass by. The bark of a fox was always a pleasure to hear. The howls of the coyotes would sometimes filter past on the breeze. Along with the quiet sounds of nature were other sounds, squealing tires, roaring engines, blaring two-way radios and wailing sirens.

Night Patrol was my favorite part of the job. Catching the criminals, who think that it is great fun to drive the country roads late at night shining a light into animal’s eyes and then gunning them down, that was what made the job worthwhile.