The Night Shift
By Kenny Lawson, SGW McCurtain County

Its well after midnight and the cold night air makes me wish that I hadn't forgotten to put on my long underwear. A jacket helps ward off the chill as I listen to the wind whistling through the coils of my truck's radio antennas. It's a soft, eerie, organ-like symphony that I have listened to for thousands of hours over the last twenty-plus years. With the windows rolled down I start the truck and run the heater on high about every ten minutes or so to warm the parts of my body that is not covered by the jacket. It's unusually cold on this dark night in November, uncharacteristically cold for far southeast Oklahoma.

There is no moon tonight and the star-filled sky is a magnificent sight as I sit on a remote, high, hill overlooking some of Oklahoma's finest deer habitat waiting for my prey. I've been here hundreds, if not thousands of times. Not in this exact location, but in this same situation, watching, waiting, and expecting to see what I've come here for. It's like finding a needle in a haystack except this is no ordinary haystack.

My hunting ground tonight is hundreds of thousands of acres of remote timberland dotted with a variety of landscape types and thousands, yes, thousands of miles of logging roads crisscrossing the valleys below, and the surrounding ridges that spread out in every direction; and lights. What lights? There are no lights except far, far in the distance and with my military grade night vision goggles I can see an airport beacon more than 60 miles distant to the west. I can also see an occasional vehicle traveling on the highway some ten miles away.

Within my field of view are several new clear-cuts, hundreds of acres in size and pine plantations that are near ready to be harvested or have already been thinned. I can't see them with my naked eye but I know they are there and I know where they are. I drove these roads out this past summer and memorized them. Yes, I know these roads well but when I came here more than twenty years ago these same plantations were themselves new clear cuts. Now the trees are more than 60 feet tall and are ready for the mill. It looks different at night of course and to keep things fresh in my mind I have to drive them in the daylight and see the changes as they occur.

It's been a long day. Heck, it's been a long fall. I've hunted here since early summer off and on and, though I've already had some luck the past few months, I've seen nothing from this spot. It is too good of a place not to sit and I know it will pay off sooner or later. I pass the time by thinking about cases I've made recently, stories I've heard about poachers and where they may strike again. I listen to the police traffic on the radio; a burglary here, a drunk driver there and prowlers. I snack a little on leftover Halloween candy I brought from home. Still, I hunt.

Maybe I didn't just forget to put on my long johns but perhaps it's because I haven't been home since early this morning. It's been like this for months now and not likely to change for another month or two. I can't remember the last time I slept good or for more than three or four hours at a time. It's catching up with me though as I yawn almost uncontrollably.

Suddenly there's excitement on the radio. A police pursuit is in progress and they are heading in my direction even though they are better than fifteen miles away. I have a brief thought about offering my assistance but I wisely choose not to, not because I don't want to help, but because if things work out I may have a pursuit of my own soon. And besides, the first time I talk on the radio I have given my prey the edge. I have let my quarry know that I'm on the prowl. I worked too hard to let that happen, bypassing town and coming in the back way and ascending the hill with my lights out so as to not alert a sharp eye to my location. So I sit quietly, hunting.

The yawning has turned into a struggle to keep my eyes open and the thought of a warm bed and fantasizing about sleeping in late nearly makes me give in to the urge to leave. Then I think about the words of a not so enthusiastic old game warden that often looked for excuses to leave early. "Well boys, if they was a comin' they'd already been here." So I wait, hunting still.

As I peer through the open window I see a faint glow several miles away. I look through my night vision goggles and see that it's a vehicle traveling in a remote area off the beaten path. I watch intently as it moves slowly into an area that I know contains several new clear-cuts and lots of deer. Suddenly the light becomes brighter and the quick side to side movement of a single beam tells me they just started hunting too.

I know where they are but it is roughly five or six miles as a crow flies and ten or twelve by logging road. I sit patiently and watch them shine their light as they drive north to another clear-cut. The vehicle makes a slow, wide turn and starts back the way it had come from. As I watch the vehicle the silence is shattered by a distant shot. It is much easier to course a shot when you are already facing the direction it came from. This will no doubt slow them down giving me the extra time I need to close the distance.

I'm careful not to turn on my lights until I reach the lower side of the ridge so that I don't spook them. Then I drive fast, very fast. Sometimes I feel like I would've been good racing in the Baja 1000, but this is just as much fun if not more. I drive to within a mile or so of the "crow's foot", a place where several logging roads connect and the place my quarry will likely return to. I turn out my headlights and drive the rest of the way slowly using my night vision goggles and infra-red driving light so as not to spook my prey.

When I reach my destination in the middle of nowhere I turn off my engine and stand outside listening. It's quiet, and dark. I listen and watch and after several minutes I hear gravel popping and the low muffled noise of a truck coming my way from the direction I expected it to. I have been in this situation perhaps hundreds of times and I have already visualized the stop in my mind. I know if I don't stop them on the narrow road before they reach the crow's foot they could easily get away.

I get back in my truck and head toward them and before I can see them, I place my truck strategically around a sharp bend in the road, hidden by a thicket of pine trees. Good timing and the element of surprise is everything when stopping a violator at night and I have gained a lot of experience at it. When the truck is mere yards away, I simultaneously turn on my headlights, reds and blues and aim my post mounted spotlight right into the cab. I have found that stopping a night hunter in this fashion prevents a lot of pursuits. I can see what is going on in the cab and more often than not who it is I'm dealing with.

This time is no different. Imagine you're a poacher and you have been spotlighting deer all night without a hitch and on the way home thinking you've gotten by with it again when all of a sudden the boogey man appears out of nowhere. That has to be very unsettling and a shock to the system. It's just enough surprise to slow their reaction and help them to realize "it's too late!" I order all three of the occupants to get their hands up where I can see them but they are slow to respond. The passenger keeps putting down one hand and I see the unmistakable signs that he is trying to unload a gun or hide something. The others look at each other briefly as I continue screaming at them to comply and after some hesitation they finally do.

I analyze the situation quickly to determine who the most dominant character in the group is and decide it's the driver. I approach the driver's door and with a little assistance from a wrist lock I help him out of the truck. From this vantage point I can see several rifles in the cab lying between the occupants. I quickly handcuff the driver for my safety and place him at the front so I can keep an eye on him. Just as quickly I remove the middle passenger and start to handcuff him when suddenly the other passenger bolts from the truck and into the woods carrying the light and one of the rifles.

My only choice now is to secure both my unit and their truck by removing the keys and locking the doors and head into the woods after the rabbit. It's better this way, chasing him while he's tired. Besides, I can't afford to leave a possible sniper in the woods to take shots at me while I'm arresting his buddies. After some searching and following the sound of heavy breathing and rustling brush I locate and arrest the passenger who has now lost his rifle and light. His face and hands are scratched and bleeding from the greenbriers.

When we return to the trucks both of the other suspects are still there thankfully. It doesn't take long to figure out why the passenger ran away. Hidden in his pocket was a small bag of methamphetamine and a pipe. Further searching turns up a little marijuana and when I finally get to look into the bed of the truck I see a freshly killed, eight-point buck. That was no surprise.

When the wrecker arrives I take the time to locate the other rifle and the spotlight the not- so-fleet-footed poacher lost in his short-lived attempt to get away. By the time the wrecker gets through and I book my boys into the county jail it's nearly 4:00 am. While at the jail I learn through a criminal background check that my driver had prior felony convictions for violent crimes. He is probably going back to prison for a while.

When I finally get in bed at about five o'clock I realize that I have to repeat this day all over again in a few hours. No rest for the weary they say. This time I won't forget to put on my long underwear.