Our Outdoors: Take a Stand (Get all the Parts)

My welcome to the world of stand hunting was abrupt and upsetting. The directions included with the clanking metal parts and camo seat padding became even more confounding when I finished my third unsuccessful search for Part K.

Upon purchase, I had envisioned myself sitting in the stand on opening day, meticulously scanning the log landing tucked back in the forty acres of woods behind my father-in-law’s house. I figured I would be searching for the signs of passing deer - entry trails, scrapes, rubs - and listening for the crackle of hoof steps in the fallen leaves. This vision was quickly replaced by one of me, engulfed in an Incredible-Hulk-like surge of bloodlust, bending the steel of Ladder Segment “O” into a metal pretzel.

I carefully re-read the instructions telling me to “place the larger second hole of Part K (Ironically called the “Z” bar) alongside the seat rest, and line up the bottom hole along the front hole of the foot platform and secure both sides with a 3-inch x 8 mm bolt and lock nut.” Apparently this instruction was not confusing enough for the model of ladder stand I had selected, as much to my chagrin, I found it had no such bars in the box. The picture on the front clearly showed Part Z, or K, or whatever, neatly locking the seat into the ladder. It seemed that the one I bought was supposed to magically balance on top.

It would take a lot of poise for a guy like me to stand the top wrung of the ladder and lean against the tree on the south end of the food plot. Nevermind the fact that I’m not a crack shot to begin with and probably wouldn’t be able to balance, shoot and chew gum at the same time. Where the vision of lining up a steady shot at a monster non-typical buck with tree-branch antlers once was, there was now a glimpse of me playing the role of Clark Griswold in Christmas Vacation, teetering on the edge of ladder-induced disaster.

After turning the garage upside down one final time and muttering a few choice words to the rapidly darkening October evening creeping through the alleyway behind my house, my first attempt at stand assembly ended as fast as it had started. Turning on the garage lights, I hurriedly threw the demonic parts and their black ritual assembly book back into the cardboard box and wrapped the top in duct, praying under my breath that the holy silver seal would prevent the contents from once again escaping and tormenting another poor soul.

In the back of my truck, the Pandora’s box of the outdoor world lay, smushing into the ribs of the steel bed, the image of a rut-drunk buck lying motionless, tines jutting high into the air above the box. I parked in the “no parking, loading area” space next to the bay door where I had originally picked up the stand and entered with my receipt in hand.
I talked with Richard, the hunting department staffer I had met with several times before over mineral lick comparisons, trail cam discussions and other important matters. I offered him a trade for another stand, and he obliged. We hauled out the new stand and removed the old one from the bed of my truck.
 
Instantly, the image of the monster buck bounced up from the bed, all 25 points on his antlers gleaming in the late autumn sunlight of my imagination. I slid the new box in along side him, and thanked Richard for the help, and made sure he wrote “NO Z BARS” next to the picture, with lines drawn to the parts that didn’t exist. I headed back home and began assembly of stand number two, finding that all was well, and I was on my way to what is certain to be - if the beginning is any indication – an interesting deer season…in our outdoors.