One by one, the successful among us have stepped aside, leaving the woods to the plodding, the unsuccessful, the confused … the desperate.

One by one, deer have been tagged and butchered and the tasty venison savored … without us.

After four weeks, we’re all that’s left. You. Me. The hundred-and-some-thousand others just like us.

The ones who haven’t got their deer. Yet.

But today is another day. The day. The last day. Our final chance at outwitting our wily foes and bagging the buck of a lifetime.

That’s what we tell each other, at least.

In hunting camps and living rooms and barber shops and bars, that’s what we tell each other.

Today is the day. Today, I, or you, or one of us, get a deer. Today, instead of slinking back into the house and admitting that (again) we haven’t seen a thing, things will be different.

Today we’ll get to call a few buddies and ask them if they want to help drag a deer … if they want to take a few photos … if they want to hear a story (for the first, but definitely not the last time).

Today is our day.

Why?

Because it has to be. There are no days left for us firearms hunters, you see. Not until next year … not until we suffer through another snowy winter, and another muddy spring, and another hot summer.

Not until we spend 11 long months analyzing, dissecting and pondering all the things we did wrong.

We started the season with such high hopes, such grand plans, with such unbridled optimism.

And here we are, four weeks later. Scratching our heads. Altering our plans. Deerless.

Again.

This year was going to be different for me. I told you so. I may have even guaranteed it.

Then my hunting buddy told me that making such guarantees may have been a bad idea.

“If Mark Messier guarantees a Stanley Cup, we may be tempted to listen to him,” the buddy, a diehard hockey nut, told me.

“But you, guaranteeing a deer?” he continued, struggling for a polite way to illustrate the error of my ways. “Um … well … You may not have the skills of a Mark Messier.”

Humbled, I decided to make up for my mistake. Promptly. Decisively.

And I did.

I changed my deer-hunting karma.

Since I’m not stealthy (and since all the deer I’ve not been able to meet seem to be both wily and stealthy) I decided to stop breaking branches and lumbering through the forest. I decided to sneak into the forest … and sit.

Soundless (except when I cough, which is, I realize now, far too often). Motionless (unless I have one of those frequent phantom itches that demands immediate attention). Invisible (or as invisible as a slightly chubby neon-orange man can be).

But my makeover didn’t stop there.

Nope. I was on a roll … I think … I thought.

I also decided that I’d have probably have better luck if the deer didn’t recognize me as the bumbling fool they’d confused last season.

So I grew a beard … kind of … more or less.

Then after three weeks or so, the guys at work started making fun of it … and it started to itch … and the only compliment I was able to garner was from my nephew, Kyle, an eighth-grader who has been desperately trying to grow himself a beard since sixth grade.

“Nice moustache-goatee combo,” he told me the other day. “I’m gonna get one of those, too.”

Then he brushed a hand across what appeared to be a single rogue whisker on his own smooth face and grinned.

The next night, with a week left in hunting season, I gave up and shaved.

I gave up on the nifty moustache-goatee combo, but I did not give up entirely. It was just time to change my karma … again.

For four weeks, we have been out there. Me. You. The hundred-and-something thousand others just like us.

We have hunted hard. We have sat through rainstorms and snowstorms and sleetstorms. We have baked in the sun, basked in balmy breezes, and remained, somehow, somewhat optimistic.

We have climbed trees, sat on stumps, leaned against rocks, and have kept the faith.

Each cracking twig has been a buck. The buck. Our buck.

You know it. I know it. We all know it.

And now, here we all are.

One day left. One morning. One afternoon. One final shot at a successful season.

Today is the last day. And it’s our day.

At least, that’s what we keep telling ourselves.

Have a great day out there. Be safe. Listen carefully. Watch attentively.

And keep thinking positive.

Your deer … my deer … our deer … are waiting.

Michaud helps warden funding

For years the Maine Warden Service has toiled under strict budget constraints that have tested its ability to provide the services Mainers have come to rely on.

Over the past year, Maine’s men and women in green have received a much-needed helping hand from Washington, thanks to Rep. Mike Michaud of Millinocket.

Michaud has paid particular attention to the Warden Service, and earlier this week his office announced that Michaud had helped secure an additional $100,000 in funding for search and rescue technology equipment.

The fiscal year 2006 Science, State, Justice and Commerce conference report is now headed to the White House for President Bush’s signature, and when that happens, the people of Maine will have reason to give thanks.

The new funding comes in addition to the appropriation of $493,000 that Michaud was able to garner to purchase similar search-and-rescue equipment in the current budget.

“Without the efforts of Congressman Michaud, I have no idea how long it would have taken to secure these necessary funds, if ever,” said Col. Tom Santaguida, Maine’s chief game warden in a Michaud news release. “The equipment the bureau will purchase for our game wardens with this funding will enhance our ability to do our jobs and keep people safe in Maine’s outdoors.”

The DIF&W’s Bureau of Warden Service has statutory responsibility for finding persons lost, stranded, or drowned in the state’s woodlands or on the water. The Warden Service conducts about 200 searches a year.

Thankfully, most of us will never need to utilize the services of the Maine Warden Service.

But if we do end up in trouble in the woods, it’s comforting to know that our Warden Service will be have the proper equipment to perform the job state law requires them to carry out.

John Holyoke can be reached at 990-8214 or by e-mail at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net.