Like most deer hunters I was full of anticipation as deer rifle season finally arrived. The woods were dead still and pitch black as I reached the mighty oak tree that supports my box deer stand, named Sky Stand. I paused on the ground trying to catch my breath. The 1/2 mile hike to my stand is usually a breeze, but not today, not when I had to high step it through 12 inches of snow, bundled up in four layers of clothing including coveralls and a heavy hunting coat. My sweat froze to me as I silently clipped my 30-06 to the haul line.
 
My breath returned and I started climbing the wooden rungs. About mid-way up, I heard a shuffling noise above me, coming from the wooden platform on the deer stand. The noise startled me. I was clueless as to what was making the noise. “Probably just a squirrel, I thought to myself. But: What if it is another deer hunter? Better not be, I muttered to myself.”  I continued to climb. When eye level with the base of the stand I heard the shuffling noise again. The early morning was blacker than the Ace of Spades. I couldn’t see a thing. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. But the shuffling noise continued. I started to freak out…
 
While hanging onto the rung with my left hand; I used my right hand to search my coveralls for the mini-flash light. Gotcha! I shined the small beam of light around the platform. A pointed face and two black beady eyes stared right back at me. Quills were sticking up every which way. Yikes! I was face to face with a humongous porcupine. At this point (no pun intended) I reckoned the porcupine held the upper hand. He calmly held his ground, I freaked out. My feet quickly took me downward and I mean quickly. 

Upon landing on the ground crazy things went through my head, luckily they weren’t spiny porcupine quills. The porcupine hadn’t attacked me and didn’t leave a lasting impression.  Perhaps I needed a sharp reminder? Maybe he wanted to be friends? But I really didn’t want his affection.
 
Then my brain kicked into gear trying to figure out what to do next. “Should I move to another deer stand or hunt this one?”  I wanted to hunt this stand, my favorite stand, my most productive stand. Spontaneity prevailed but the challenge remained: “What to do about the porcupine?” I could shoot him from the ground. I could try yelling at him. Neither alternative seemed promising as either would alert every deer in the woods. “How could I get that prickly intruder out of my stand?” Because I couldn’t get into the stand, it seemed unlikely that I’d be able to get my unwanted buddy “Porky” to move down and out of the stand. A better alternative might be to get Porky to move up the tree relinquishing his toe hold on the platform. Ok… I’ll try that!
 
I un-hooked my rifle from the haul-line, slung it over my shoulder and put the flash light in my mouth. Somewhat reluctantly I headed back up the tree. Maybe it wasn’t the smart thing to do, but I did it anyway. I was determined to hunt “this stand”. I wasn’t going to let a prickly rodent give me the boot! After reaching the platform, the beam of light revealed Porky huddled up in the corner of the stand staring at me. He wasn’t moving. I wasn’t retreating. “Now what should I do?” I couldn’t holler because the flash light was clenched between my teeth.
 
I un-slung my rifle, pointed the barrel at the porcupine and… gently nudged him. That didn’t accomplish anything. I nudged him again, this time a little harder. That didn’t accomplish anything either. “This porcupine is stubborn”, I thought to myself. That makes two of us! I jabbed him again with the barrel, this time harder. Porky seemed to be getting upset but remained steadfast. That made two of us! With extra effort, I poked that big pin cushion a good one. He started to move. “He’s catching on but needs more encouragement”, I muttered under my breath. I jabbed him again and he begrudgingly scurried up the tree. He climbed out on a limb about twenty feet from the gun rails. Quickly, I mounted the platform and re-claimed “my turf”.
 
There were two black beady eyes staring at my two blue eyes. We were twenty feet apart, sharing the camaraderie of the hunt, well not exactly. The porcupine flashed a hint of having a bruised ego. He probably hadn’t had anyone push him around before. That was something he’d just have to live with.
 
And how’d the hunt go? Well… Porky didn’t move for the four hours that I hunted in Sky Stand that day. And he left the area and never came back. Turns out the bark eating critter had been living in my box stand for quite some time. He had deposited a layer of porcupine crap about an inch thick on the platform base. I was going to do some house cleaning but had second thoughts. “Why not leave the crap there and use it as a masking scent?” Plus the crap provided a soft cushion for my feet and actually stopped the platform base from creaking. Nice to have a hunting buddy! Wouldn’t you agree?