For the most part, my hunting endeavors are solitary in nature, alone in the woods. No phones, no faxes, no fanfare. For me it provides a short therapeutic respite removing the handcuffs of everyday life.

But over the past 15 years or so, the opening of the regular firearms deer hunting season has been a time to enjoy family and friends. My brother Jim and I take joyful pride in introducing children to our greatest tradition. First it was my own two sons, Anthony and Joseph. Then it expanded to include many of their friends. But now my own sons are no longer children and have stepped into the world of adults. So when my sister asked if we would take our 10-year old nephew, a new spark was lit igniting the fire of one of my favorite times.

Living in Chicago, we mainly see Cole during the holidays. The chance to spend time with him in the woods was something all of us were excited about. Few human relationships are closer than those established by a mutual contact with nature and I’d hoped this would start a bond between Cole and I that would endure a lifetime. I believe if a man teaches youngsters to be hunters their relationship grows stronger through time. The passing years bring them closer through happy memories of the woods and fields.

“I think it would do him some good to learn some things from you guys,” my sister Minnie said on the phone.

“You may regret saying that!” I said half serious. “Deer camp can be a little irreverent at times and he may pick up some things you won’t appreciate.”

“That’s all right, I deal with people a lot worse than you,” she said referring to her job as a judge in one our nation’s largest cities.

Two days before the start of the firearms season I met my brother-in-law Brian at our predetermined meeting place where I would pick up my nephew. I wanted to spend some time with him in advance to begin the process of teaching him proper firearms safety.

Once we arrived home he was presented with his very own fanny pack.

“This is yours,” I said handing him the camouflage bag, which contained tools of the trade he would need if he was to begin hunting our states premier big game animal. It contained a flashlight for navigating the woods in darkness, a rope to pull his equipment up to his tree stand, a safety harness, a hunting knife, camouflage gloves and hunter orange hat. He immediately put on his bright orange hat which never left his little blonde head, even wearing it to bed.

On opening morning the alarm went off on my old clock radio at 4 a.m. Slowly shuffling towards the spare bedroom I was surprised to see my nephew sitting up wide awake.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. In his hands he held his fanny pack.

“It’s going to be a great day,” I told him as we began getting dressed.

A short time later, Cole and I sat together in a red oak tree where weeks earlier I had placed two tree stands. Darkness slowly gave up its valiant fight slowly giving way to daylight, although it never really had much of a chance.

We had decided if a deer moved within 30 yards, Cole would take the shot. If it was farther, it would be up to me. For the first few hours we both watched squirrels leaping from tree to tree as they gathered acorns for the upcoming winter. We saw blue jays scold each other and watched a raccoon lumber its way past us.

Several hours later a slight movement caught my eye.

“Cole, there is a deer,” I whispered, nodding my head towards the thickest part of the woods.

“I see it,” he said softly never moving his eyes.

“It’s a buck, don’t move,” I instructed.

The deer stood there for several minutes staring at the two unnatural blobs sitting in the oak tree. It wasn’t long before his senses told him something wasn’t right. As he turned to retreat to the safety of the dense woods I sent the powder propelled projectile on its way.

“You got him Uncle John!” Cole said in a raised voice seeping with excitement.

“Now comes the hard part,” I said after a short job tracking the fat eight-pointer. The job of field dressing became more of an anatomy class as I pointed out all the internal organs and where they were in relationship to the animal.

We both dripped with sweat after completing the task of dragging the 185-pound buck though the woods and standing cornfield.

Several hours later we joined up with my brother, both sons and my son-in-law Rob for lunch. As typical in most deer camps the conversation went from kidding each other to serious deer hunting strategies to kidding again. The soft-spoken Cole said very little, only speaking when asked a question. If only we could all learn from that.

After lunch everyone again made their way to their stands. As Cole and I sat perched above the forest floor I pointed out sassafras trees, and the difference between red and white oak trees by the shape of their leaves. It wasn’t very long before the report of a shotgun echoed through the woods.

“Was that Anthony?” Cole asked.

“It sure was,” I answered.

“Can we go help him?” he added excitedly.

A short while later the three of us stood admiring a beautiful 14-point buck.

“Can I help field dress this one too?” asked Cole.

The next day I had decided my nephew and I would still-hunt instead of spending the day perched motionless in a tree.

“There’s a deer,” I hissed as a fat doe worked along the bottom of a tall ridge. To my amazement she turned uphill and began walking straight towards us. “Get your gun up and get ready,” I instructed as she stepped behind several trees blocking her view of us. Within a few seconds she stood less than 10 yards from us.

“Shoot!” I whispered. “Shoot!” I said again after nothing happened. Then with the “click” of the safety the deer bolted out of sight.

As I leaned towards my nephew it was easy to notice his uncontrollable shaking.

“I blew it Uncle John,” he said sorrowfully.

“You didn’t blow anything,” I consoled. “That’s called hunting and for your first time you did great. Look at everything you have learned in one short weekend. Now we have a lifetime to keep on learning.”

The next day I met his parents to drop him off for his return trip back to Chicago.

“How did it go?” my sister asked as my nephew and I stepped from my truck.

“I had the best time of my life,” Cole blurted out before I could even speak.

Later that night my sister called. “I want you to know after we got home I found Cole in his bedroom crying,” she explained. “When I asked him what was wrong he said he wanted go back with Uncle John so he could go hunting.

“I can’t thank you enough for taking him,” she added.

“That’s no problem, I will take him every year then maybe in a few years when I get older he can take me,” I added with a laugh.

Yes sometimes the true mending of success in the deer woods isn’t measured by the animals we take, but in the lives we touch.

Weekly Hunting Results

Here is this week’s list of local hunters who have collected deer tipping the scales with a filed dressed weight of 150 pounds and above. This information is provided by our area’s state approved deer check-in stations which include Bryant’s Outdoor Store, Burlington Meats, Innovative Archery and Simpson’s Deer Processing.

Greg Piercy — 164-pound, nine-point buck; Stan Piercy — 180-pound, eight-point buck; Chris Lovegrove — 150-pound doe; Mike Bass — 185-pound, nine-point buck; Leroy Miller — 167-pound, eight-point buck; Joshua Shaffer — 175-pound, 10-point buck; Mike Kelly — 170-pound, 10-point buck; Leroy Pannier — 160-pound, eight-point buck; Zack Lawson — 178-pound, eight-point buck; Dave Krantz — 161-pound, 10-point buck.

Matthew Miller — 186-pound, nine-point buck; Steve Miller — 210-pound, four-point buck; Jack Feightner — 165-pound, 12-point buck; Kip Wilson — 150-pound, eight-point buck; Jeff Vanover — 165-pound, 10-point buck; Don Bowers — 165-pound, six-point buck; Paul Sorenson — 175-pound, nine-point buck; James Cardwell — 150-pound doe; Mike Hawk — 195-pound, 10-point buck; William Pier — 175-pound, 10-point buck; Steve Poe — 168-pound, 12-point buck; Anthony Vonderahe — 162-pound, nine-point buck.

Tim Maroney — 153-pound, nine-point buck; Darrell Cockrell — 175-pound, five-point buck; Anna Cripe — 150-pound, 11-point buck; Tim Burton — 150-pound, four-point buck; Jerry Rose — 160-pound, seven-point buck; Alan Sandlin — 190-pound, 10-point buck; Dan Stout — 160-pound, 11-point buck; David Keyes — 150-pound doe; Chris Clark — 160-pound, eight-point buck; Jim Martino — 170-pound seven-point buck.

• John Martino is the Tribune’s outdoors columnist. He may be reached by e-mail at jmartinooutdoors@att.net.