The Tracker’s Search
survival, hunting, outdoors, short story fiction
By “Jersey” James Scott
This story was inspired by a prompt Picture from ironage.media on November 1, 2023
He stalked his prey, slowly walking through the bush. He moved so his feet do not make a sound by slowly touching the ground with the edge of his foot and then slowly moving his full weight to it. Then he slowly brought up the foot behind him and brought that forward. He made his camouflage perfect for the fall colors of the terrain as he slowly creeps up on the deer. He has tracked its every move for two days, finding a weaker deer that wouldn’t survive the coming winter. He does this not for sport, but to maintain the balance of nature, and to try and live within the natural world. He senses the hunters in the woods; he brought them there, of course, but he hates using guns; too modern, too easy. He wants the more basic, primitive ways he was taught that aren’t as wasteful. He sees the deer now its in range of his weapon, not a gun, not a bow like modern hunters but a stick like the ancestors, for this is not just a worship of nature but a worship of how man got to the modern world. Just as he was about to throw the stick, the deer scared not of him but of the hunter moving out from cover to fire his gun.
The deer died not from the stick, but from a shot to the torso from a great distance. The tracker then reveals his position, so as not to get shot and puts on the stupid orange vest he is told to wear by his hunting friends. You can see his blonde surfer hair and his beard that has naturally grown at a manageable length, with brown eyes.
As the hunter approached, “Damn Bill, I didn’t even see you there; you were super close to that deer; good thing you had on that vest; otherwise, I might have shot you.” The hunter exclaims with surprise in his voice; he looks like he has the latest from Cabela’s catalog with black hair and blue eyes.
“Good shot, Kenny, good kill,” Bill responded, trying to keep the annoyance and disgust out of his tone.
“Hey, what are you doing with that stick?” Kenny asked.
“Oh, nothing, just trying to give you a clean shot,” Bill replied slyly.
“Damn straight, that’s what I pay you for. You find the deer, then me and my friends hunt them.” Kenny said in a self-assured manner.
Under his breath, murmuring to himself, Bill said, “Until I can afford my land of wilderness for myself.”
“What did you say?” Kenny commanded.
“I was saying what lovely wilderness you have here,” Bill replied.
“Damn straight, I love it every deer hunting season. Well, let’s field dress the deer and get it back to camp. After some time, they field-dress the deer and start moving back to camp with the sound of gunshots in the woods all around them. They get back to camp. They found out that their kill was the fourth of the day.
“Man, we are having a good day!” Kenny exclaims.
“The deer in these woods are overpopulated. This hunt is good for the balance of the area, but what do you think of my proposal of getting wolves in here to help keep the natural balance.” Bill pleaded.
“I don’t like the competition, and I don’t want to hear something about you adding something to my land that isn’t tasty for me to eat. And that’s the end of it.” Kenny authoritatively answered.
“Whatever you say, boss,” Bill responded.
“Well, now what do you say….” Kenny said.
“Shush. Somethings wrong.” Over the occasional gunshot, he hears shouting; the tracker begins to run off in the direction of the woods, Kenny following him.
“What’s going on? Kenny asked in a hurried pace.
“Men are shouting someone’s name, I think,” Bill said in a calm tone.
“That is going to scare the deer, but I hope no one is hurt,” Kenny explained.
After a short time, they come to two men in hunter’s camo with orange vests on. One was an African-American man with a business haircut, and the other was an overweight-looking mountain man with brown hair. Both shouted, “Danny, Danny.”
Kenny came up to the two men, addressing the business-looking man, “Derek, what happened to Danny?
“Well, I went to go use the bush, and your guide Mark here was supposed to keep an eye on him, and then when I got back into the tree stand, he was gone,” Derek responded irately.
Mark, trying to defend himself, “Well, that boy wanders too much not good for hunting in the woods, he is liable to get shot if he ain’t careful.”
Derek is about to respond more than angrily at the man who lost his child when Bill interrupts, “Gentlemen, this is getting us nowhere; let’s focus on the mission of finding the boy.”
Kenny explained, “Bills right. I will call the Sheriff to see if we can’t get the search and rescue to help. Mark, gather the hunters and see if you can organize a hunt for the boy. Derek goes with Bill and sees if he is at the tree stand. Maybe he went back there. Sound good, everyone.” Everyone nods in agreement. “Alright, let’s get it done then.” Just as everyone departs, Kenny goes to Bill and says, “Derek is my best accountant. He makes me millions. You find his son. I will make it worth your wild.” In a hushed tone
In an equally hushed tone, Bill responded, “Kenny, you don’t have to pay me to find the boy. It’s the right thing to do.” Then, the men part ways.
Derek and Bill start moving to the tree stand at a hurried pace. Derek shouted, “Danny, Danny.”
Bill then asked, “So tell me about your son? What made you want to take him on a hunting trip? You don’t seem the type.”
“I’m not. I like books, cities, and the movies. But my son has loved the woods since I took him on that corporate camping trip a year ago. All he wants to do is go hiking and camping. I even signed him up for Boy Scouts, but he was upset when they didn’t camp as much as he liked. I don’t know if that’s normal for a nine-year-old.” Derek said calmly and then shouted, “Danny, Danny!”
Bill responds in a very calm tone, extremely sympathetic, “You ever hear of primitive survival schools?”
Derek, bewildered and distraught, asked, “What’s that?”
“It’s a school that teaches you to live without technology ans with nature like our ancestors did, and you must camp throughout the process,” Bill explains calmly.
“Danny, Danny,” Derek shouts again, and then he says, “Sounds like I’d hate it, but he would probably love it.”
The two continue the rest of the way in silence, except for Derek's occasional shouts. Bill intently looks for signs of Danny as they get to the tree stand.
“Oh no,” Derek, in a panicked voice, exclaims, “I was sure he was going to be here.” Derek falls crying.
Bill uses his senses to look around the stand. He was about to go into a trance to find the prints of a nine-year-old, but something in him feeling pity for Derek told him that if he didn’t do something about the father, He would have two people to search for this day. In a sympathetic tone, he said, “Hey Derek, I think I see some prints here that may help me find your son. I’m going to check them out alone. Why don’t you get in the tree stand and keep shouting Danny’s name. Maybe he will hear it and come running. I want to go it alone because I know these woods pretty good, and I don’t want you to get lost. There should be plenty of supplies for you in there. I’ll come by with your son when I find him. Stay put so the search patrols will know the right tree stand. They won’t be long, Okay.”
Choking back tears, Derek said, “Okay,” and entered the tree stand. Bill wants to be more sympathetic and understanding but knows that time is of the essence, and the more time a child is lost in the woods without skills, the more likely he is to be in danger. His brain finally notices that the occasional gunshots have ceased, and now he can do what he learned how to do without fear of being shot. His brain began to focus on the sounds of the environment. He is not looking for game trails now or frequent paths. He is looking for a single print. Even a trace indent in the grass of a boot could give away the position because there weren’t many kids on the trip. Then he saw a faint impression in the grass, a boot print of a child about nine that must be Danny. It looks like he is heading deeper into the woods. Bill begins to focus his senses on the patterns of the animals in that general direction, finding what might be off. He begins to move at a decent pace for the terrain, finding tracks and traces along the way. Subtle signs are missed by most people, but with a good tracker, you can see them. As the sun sets, he comes to a little clearing. He picks his head up to listen for signs of the other searchers and can hear only nature's beauty, and for a second, he remembers the beauty of tracking, finding things that no one could believe, and seeing little mysteries that were hidden to most people. That is the beauty of tracking.
The moon comes out, and thankfully, it is full and bright, almost like daylight, and he is still on the trail. He begins to tire and thirst, but he is so focused on the tracks that it doesn’t bother him. He then notices a faint change in the movement of deer ahead near a stream. He quickens his pace, focused on the tracks, studying them like he had a major test on them. On one side of the stream, the tracks are faint, barely noticeable, but on the other side, there is obvious mud everywhere. Bill is fixated on studying those prints in a deep trance, determining a direction when he hears a child’s voice say, “What are you doing?”
Bill nearly jumps two feet in the air on this, and then he realizes that he has found Danny. Bill, calming down, said, “Are you Danny?”
The African American child with camo covered in mud says, “Yeah, but what were you doing? How did you find me? I covered myself in camouflage and mud so that no one could find me.”
“Well, the deer told me where you were,” Bill says in a manner of fact way.
“You can talk to deer!” Danny says with excitement.
“No, just recognize the normal sounds from the abnormal sounds and heighten my awareness and direct where I need to,” Bill explains like a teacher to a student.
“I want to learn how to do that,” Danny said excitedly.
“If your father will allow it. I’ll show you some things, but you got to promise to stay near me until we get back to camp, okay.” Bill said.
“I’ll stay near you until we get back to camp. But I just wanted to pet a deer, not kill them.” Danny explains.
“Get good at stalking a deer first, then maybe one day you can pet a deer, but It’s hard. I have only heard it being done.” Bill replied.
“I will pet a deer one day,” Danny exclaims.
“Good lad, but the priority is water.” he lowers his camelback to the child’s lips and gives him water. He then takes a swig of his own. “We should have enough to get us back. Next is shelter. We can get by without as long as we have a fire tonight. We need to gather sticks for the fire. I’ll show you how.” They gather wood for a fire, a small reflecting wall with the extra wood. They then dig a small hole, peeling back the root layer, and put the logs together for a small fire. He then brings out some tinder he had gathered and uses his knife and a piece of flint to light the tinder bundle and gently place it in the sticks, explaining that “Fire is a living being. It starts as a baby coal or spark and grows into a great beast if given enough fuel. You must manage your fire and make sure that it doesn’t destroy the terrain. Now, when you sleep, sleep one side toward the fire and one side away. When the side away gets cold, you turn that side toward the fire, okay.” Bill explains, and Danny nods and falls asleep from exhaustion. They pass the night doing as Bill said. Bill wakes every little bit, feeding the fire throughout the night, and as the sunrises, they extinguish the flames of the campfire properly. Bill explains everything as he goes. They set out for the deer stand. On their way back, they see the Sheriff with Derek looking for the boy.
“Danny!” Derek shouted as he ran to hug the boy.
The two embrace as Danny says to his dad excitedly, “Dad, guess what? I learned how to make a fire in the woods?”
Derek, Truly happy, says, “That’s a great son.”
Bill looks on with satisfaction, knowing that he did good work, and starts to head out when the Sheriff says, “Bill Sullivan, Ken’s chief guide, right.”
“Yeah,” Bill replied.
“You found that boy quicker than we could deploy the bloodhound units. That’s mighty impressive. If you ever get sick of hunting deer, I got a spot on my ground search rescue team that could use you.” The Sheriff offers.
“I think I might take you up on that offer.” Bill agrees.
The End