MOSES LAKE - This is the first of a two-part series about the 2010 deer hunt.

The Hut is cold this morning as words are formulated, but it is a good cold. I'm seated at the table in the middle of the cinderblock building. In jeans, T-shirt and jacket, my body is warm enough, but my fingers feel the chill as they work the keyboard.

Yes, I could light one of several heaters within reach, but the sun is shining and the air inside the building is warming. A cup of hot coffee warms the innards and fingers when wrapped around the cup.

It is a first-class beginning to a day in the field.

Today, Wednesday, marks the middle of the modern-firearm deer hunting season north of Odessa, the area I hunt. As of this date, I am the only one of four hunting companions to not notch my tag.

First thing on opening day, last Saturday, Lani Schorzman dropped a 3- by 4-point mule deer.

On Sunday, Dr. Thomas Steffens and I headed out in search of 3-point minimum critters. We approached a thick grouping of sagebrush when a muley stood up from his bed. Because Thomas only had the first two days of the season to hunt, he was the designated shooter on the first critter to appear.

At first all we could see were two points on the high and wide antlers. I trained a binocular on the head of the animal. It turned and started to trot away.

"It has eye guards," I said, "One on each side."

Three points were required on one side and this deer filled the bill of a legal animal on both sides.

Thomas aimed and fired. It was a miss, an event seldom experienced by the shooter. The animal stopped and looked back as Thomas worked the bolt of his rifle, putting another round in the chamber. He aimed and fired. The deer dropped. He hit it in the head, the only part of the animal visible. Thomas' feat was equal to hitting a football at 144 yards, the distance later measured with a range finder.

As we were conducting the necessary work when a big game animal is down, a voice called from the fence 50 yards distance.

"Mind if we come over to see the deer?"

Proper protocol was exercised as they were on property we didn't have permission to access and they needed permission to cross the fence and be on the property we were hunting. We told the two people to come on over.

They introduced themselves as Debbie McKernan and John Davidson. John had shot a 6 by 6 the day before and Debbie had shot a 3 by 3 this morning.

John knew me by name and told about calling me a few years ago seeking information regarding preparing Debbie for hunting.

We visited for a while and then they left to retrieve Debbie's deer. Interesting how a short visit between hunters can awaken a desire to share a campfire and get to know people better. Debbie and John fill this direction of reasoning.

Monday I hunted alone, a situation not always desirable, but cell phone coverage was available over most of the hunt area. Plus my hunt this day was mostly in the vehicle, which is a bit safer.

Three hours, from 3 to 6 p.m. was spent in a ground blind next to a field measuring 100 yards wide and 300 yards long. The field is not farmed, but volunteer wheat and other green grasses sprout there every year, making it a desirable place for deer to visit.

I was not alone during the wait as two sparrow-sized, black-headed birds jumped from place to place looking for and eating seeds a few feet from where I sat.

A crow circled the field twice squawking along the way. A bird or animal sounded behind me, out of sight. It was a sound unfamiliar to me and viewing the critter was desired, but it never happened.

This field had been successful for the past two years, providing a buck for me two years ago and a doe last year, so my anticipation was acute. Last year I learned waiting in the blind provided the perfect place to read and two books about hunting were digested.

This year a book titled, "Here Are My People," by Arthur J. Burks held my interest. It was first published in 1934 and reprinted in 1985. Burks was born in Waterville in 1898 and it tells of life in the Big Bend Country when he was a youngster. After studying the reason why Grant County separated from Douglas County during the Grant County Centennial last year, the book has provided a look inside the situation.

The hours melted away, but no deer appeared. The blind was abandoned for the day at 6, even though 30 minutes of legal shooting time remained. The last half hour of the day is better spent at The Hut. It is becoming more difficult for me to see as darkness overcomes the landscape and I wouldn't shoot during the last few minutes anyway, unless a buck materialized at a close distance, say within 25 yards.

Next week: The final days of the 2010 modern firearm deer hunting season.