WEST FORK — Spider eyes glowed like tiny lighthouses from the ground as I walked to my deer stand in the dark last Sunday.

Brad Conley of Rogers had driven us to a pullout in the woods in his side-by-side utility vehicle. His point of view was one direction. Mine was in the opposite direction, about half a mile away. We hunted the night before, but that was more of a reorientation session. The last time I hunted my stock was during the late muzzleloader hunt in December 2023, when I killed a mature buck in the last minutes of daylight.

On October 20th the conditions were very different. The trees still had their leaves, which created a completely different effect than in winter. My stand is on the edge of a bench that drops steeply into the bottom of a stream. In winter I can see the whole valley to the slope on the other side. In October the foliage limits my visibility to a maximum of 75 meters in all directions.

The firing distance is about 50 yards, which is about right for the gun I would use in the state's first alternate firearms season. The alternative firearms season replaced the traditional muzzleloader season. It allows hunters to use modern, antique or period replica firearms chambered for metal cartridges and with straight receiver walls. These include the old government from 45-70; new cartridges such as 350 Legend, 360 Buckhammer, 400 Legend; and old pistol cartridges such as 357 Remington Magnum, 44 Remington Magnum and 45 ACP. You can also use muzzleloaders like Conley did.

Alternative firearms season sparked a lot of interest in deer hunting in October. Ralph Meeker, deer program coordinator for the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission, said hunters killed as many deer during the opening weekend of the alternative firearms season as they did during the entire 2023 muzzleloader season.

I chose a Henry lever-action rifle chambered in 41 caliber Remington Magnum. For the occasion I made some special loads, 210 grains of Sierra hollow points with 20 grains of W296 powder. I bought the Henry as a sort of consolation prize after renting out a heavily discounted Model 1894 Marlin in 41 Mag. escape during the final days of Gander Mountain. A Marlin in 41 Mag is extremely rare and extremely expensive if you find one. Henry was my only choice. I bought two and I'm glad I did because Henry can't make it anymore.

I quickly learned to appreciate Henry. Cartridges are loaded directly into the magazine tube rather than through a gate in the receiver, as with Marlin and Winchester. It's running smoothly. It is precise and easy on the shoulder. It likes my reloads, so I like it back.

Conley and I wished each other good luck and strolled down the bench in opposite directions. Conley had given me the new headlamp for my camp. It was on the high green backdrop that seemed to see every speck of dust in the air and due to the bone dry conditions there was a lot of dust. Every step seemed to raise a cloud. I walked slowly, partly to reduce the dust, but also to avoid twisting an ankle on the rocks and sticks that abound along the trail.

When I looked down, I saw dozens of tiny green lights among the leaves and brittle grass. They were spider eyes reflecting off my headlamp. The eight eyes are so close together that they reflect as one. As I got closer I saw the spiders. I carefully walked over or around them, wishing them a good hunt as I marveled at a universe we are unaware of, thriving beneath our feet and largely out of our sight.

As I reached the path to my stand, the green light illuminated a series of reflective markers on the trees. From then on the walk was short. I carefully lifted my gear into the rack, poured myself a cup of coffee, leaned against the backrest and waited for the dawn of a new day in the Ozarks.

I love this country. From 1990 to 1994, I worked at a newspaper in Springdale, covering high school football and basketball for the Class A and AA schools in our service area. My two oldest children were born there. The smell of the air and the play of light are familiar and I felt very comfortable in the company of a man I have known since 1975.

Conley has been feeding deer for several weeks, but he said deer ignore corn and enjoy a huge surplus of acorns. He showed me several Shumard oaks. They are plentiful in these hills, and he said deer love Shumard acorns. If you hunt near a “sweet” tree you will see deer, Conley guaranteed.

“We have conditioned them to go to these places,” Conley said. “We have been feeding them for so long that they have established travel routes to the feeding grounds. Even when they don't eat corn, even now, they still walk past these places. So even if they…” When we eat corn, we’re not actually hunting the gobblers, but rather their travel routes that happen to come into contact with gobblers.

Squirrels stirred early. They scurried through the corn, but they didn't eat it. They focused on acorns. Armadillos sniffed through. I counted five. Otherwise there was peace in the forest. By 7 a.m. I was bored. It was time to taunt the deer. I put down my rifle, stood up, turned and looked into the hollow behind me. It's like a magic trick. A deer often appears out of nowhere when a hunter finds himself in such a difficult situation. That's exactly what happened. A stick crashed up the hill with the rustle of leaves.

I slowly eased myself back into my seat, picked up my rifle, and silently cocked the hammer in a deft, fluid motion. A fat, adult doe strolled through the undergrowth and stopped about 25 yards away. She looked around nervously, seemed to sense the danger and turned to change direction. This step gave me a perfect broadside presentation. I lined up the buckhorn sights on the rifle, pulled the trigger, and watched her fall without batting an eyelid as she was hit by recoil or muzzle flash.

“That was interesting,” Conley wrote.

“Dead,” I replied.

Shortly thereafter, Conley arrived with the side-by-side. We equipped the deer with our custom-made Doc knives, which Dr. Barry Pierce, a friend of Conley's, made it in Mountain View. I sent Anthony Imperato, founder of Henry Repeating Arms, a photo of the deer with the rifle on its side. He immediately responded with congratulations.

How many times can you share a moment like this with the man who made your weapon? And with ammunition you made yourself? And then cleaning a deer with a knife that has a personal connection.

These things define hunting for me, and I remember these moments long after the sweet scent of the venison has faded.