I've reached the point in my life where I could say "varies" in the space for "hair color" on my hunting license.

I've begun taking calcium supplements, but I need "cheater" glasses to read the label on the Viactiv container.Men have been going on hunting trips for years, even centuries, which would make you think they'd have gotten a little better at it.But for them I've done limited research the hunting trip consists of wee hours card games, baked bean suppers so they can admire each other's results, much scratching of bellies and of course, unbelievable snoring. (It's not true that if you hold one's nose shut their mouth will open and the snoring will stop, but it is kind of fun to watch.)We women have perfected the hunting trip, and it goes something like this comfortable rooms, plenty of bathrooms and belt-busting good food. Upon arrival, we all immediately go off our diets.Once I'd gone on a "For Ladies" hunt, I realized that being a female and a hunter wasn't such an oddity as it felt back home in Pennsylvania, where I was usually the lone woman in a group of male hunters.There were lots of us. It was OK to prefer Essence of Fall cover scent to Estee Lauder perfume.I always carry a little notebook in my hunting pack, and during my first afternoon in a tree stand this archery season in Pennsylvania, I was so thrilled to be back in a tree I took it out and wrote about my surroundings. I started a list called Favorite Things."Afternoon shadows of trees black on a brown pond, where fish are rising with the sounds of very small stones hitting the water. A red-tailed hawk disappearing into a dark gray storm cloud. Small birds walking upside-down on branches. That a squirrel can only remember for six months the location of each thing it hides."It's too bad, I was thinking, that so many people never experience seeing wild animals moving naturally in the woods.At least once, I think, people should be awakened and escorted under cover of darkness into the woods to hear a turkey gobble.They should sit quietly and listen for the sound of a deer approaching in the woods, which is like listening to an orchestra, and trying to pick out the clarinet. Maybe then people would go about their daily lives with a greater feeling of hope and promise.Hope and promise came to me on the last day of Pennsylvania's late archery season. All day, I'd been talking myself out of going; it was too cold, I had only been seeing does and youngsters, I had many other things I should be doing. But I threw on layers of clothes, activated a couple chemical hand and foot warmers and headed to one of my favorite spots, a little pop-up blind nestled in a thicket of laurels and pines.Right away I had an awesome treat a shockingly bright-red cardinal landed briefly right on the window of the blind. I was thinking that might be enough, a fitting ending to a hunting season, a splash of color in the whites and grays of the winter landscape.With about 15 minutes to go, four deer filed down a hill and walked right by the blind, each of them stopping in a spot that offered a perfect quartering-away shot. Oh why, oh why, I was thinking, can't one of you have been a big buck. And then the big buck appeared, following the same trail.Right away, I could hear the ocean. If you look up "buck fever" in the dictionary, you'll see my picture there.After several tries, I was able to attach my release to the bow string. I could see the buck through the window to the right, which was open, and would have a shot out the left window. To the front of me, I had the zip-open windows closed, but I could see through a curtain of mesh.As he passed in front of the blind, I drew the bow and lined up my peep sight and 20-yard pin. All he had to do was walk into the same spot the does had gone. Something had tipped him that a hunter was nearby; possibly it was the heavy breathing and thundering heartbeat. Just before he got to that spot, he looked over his left shoulder, directly at me.The whole right side of his rack had been broken and was gone. At first with a great reluctance, and then with a growing feeling of elation (I was proud of myself), I let down on the bow without shooting.I hope that next year I see him again.I shook with adrenaline for many minutes. If I'd gone into the big ladder stand I'd been considering, I'd have shaken off all the remaining oak leaves in that tree.The last of the day's sun blazed bright red at the horizon, and I left the woods cold and happy.I'd been lucky enough to replenish my freezer with a hefty doe during the October archery season, and I have my favorite deer meat recipes ready.Deer, Dixie Style (from cook Dixie Rees, of Halpino Lodge, Mississippi)Ingredients: Deer back straps, sliced as thinly as possible, about a pound. Three eggs, one cup milk, some flour, salt, pepper and Creole seasoning (about a half tablespoon for each batch).Directions: Use three eggs for each cup of milk, which will be enough for each pound of meat. Beat eggs and milk, and dip back straps in egg and milk mixture. Dredge in a mixture of flour, salt, papper and Creole seasoning. Fry in hot oil, turning often, until done. Be careful not to overcook.Stovetop Deer Steaks (from cook Audrey Thompson, Heartland Lodge, Quincy, Illinois)Ingredients: Deer steaks, butter, olive oil, Worcestershire sauce, one can mushroom soup, one small can of mushrooms, one half-cup milk, onions, salt, pepper and flour.Directions: Melt butter and oil in large pan, big enough for browning steaks. Pound steaks thin and brush lightly with Worcestershire sauce. Roll in flour, brown in pan on both sides. Remove steaks, and then add mushroom soup and mushrooms to pan, with a sprinkling of flour and milk. Stir until mixed, then put steaks back in the pan. Cover tightly and simmer for 45 minutes to an hour.