In the morning of our last day we returned to the scene of our ordeal, but now we found the trail, which skirted the worst of the brush. That alone would have been enough to make me optimistic, but asika howl in the distance encouraged me all the more. Besides, I felt confident, and confidence gives off a wonderfully seduc­tive scent.
    Things started off well. Wayne and I stalked a large marsh bordered with hedge­rows. Tiptoeing through calf-deep water, I snuck up on a band of sika lounging in the brush. They moved out slowly, disturbed by Wayne somewhere off to my flank. As they crossed a small finger of water, I could see ears, legs, ribs, antlers and eyes be­tween the myrkle and the mud. But I could not see a whole sika, at least not enough of a sika to shoot. I waded forward a few yards to catch the rear guard just leaving the water. It was a 4-point buck that turned and stared at me. In retrospect, I think I should have shot. But I didn't, and because the shot was a tricky one at best, I have no regrets. Anyway, before I could think much about a shot, a doe spotted me and barked, and the whole herd vanished.
    But that was just the start. An hour later, at the edge of a stand of pine, I saw another 4-pointer trotting through the woods in my direction. I started to draw, but he barked, too, and bounced off.
    All that paled in comparison to my last sika encounter, however. I had gone back to camp to eat and swap notes. Bart was there—discouraged, I think, because he had not seen many deer. I asked him if I might try his decoy that evening. He gave me his blessing and his girl. I returned to Myrkle Bay , as we had dubbed it, made a rough hide on an island that had once housed a duckblind, and stuck the decoy on the flats, where a sika could see it from 400 yards in three directions.
    Before dark, a doe trotted down the middle of the mud, as if she knew that during bow season she was safe in the open as long as she was 50 yards or more from anything that could hide a man. Unfortunately for me, she approached from the one direction I did not expect: straight downwind.
    She picked up my scent at 25 yards, barked, and started to sproing, but then she saw the decoy. She pulled up and barked again. Step, bark, step, bark. On it went for 32 barks—I counted. I had not planned on shooting a doe, but since the light was fading on my last day of sika hunting and since I had a chubby doe now barking at me within range, I drew and shot. And I missed. Whiff.
    She bounced and let out her higher-pitched alarm bark. With nothing to lose, I barked back at her with a turkey call—a mouth diaphragm—I had been carrying to imitate the stag's bugle. That calmed her down. She barked back. And so did I. For 20 minutes I shot the breeze with a sika, down by Myrkle Bay .
    When I could see only a silhouette of my new friend, I decided to fetch my arrow. I stood up, barked, and walked toward her. She bounced once and barked back. I kept walking, and she kept barking. I picked up my arrow, pulled up the decoy, took the call out of my mouth, and said, "You have been smooth-talked, my dear. By a Myrkle Man." She barked one more time and sproinged away.

•    •    •

THE MYRKLE MAN'S
CHECKLIST

Assateague: One of many Atlantic barrier islands that buffer the mainland from the corrosion of wind and waves, Assateague is transected by the Virginia-Maryland line: two-thirds of the island lies in Maryland ; the southern third belongs to Virginia . Since the federal government controls parts of both ends, the overall manage­ment is a bureaucratic consortium: The state of Maryland operates a 680-acre campsite on the northern end; the Nation­al Park Service (NPS) administers the rest of the Maryland land as a national sea­shore; and the Fish and Wildlife Service runs the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge on the Virginia side.
    The physical organization of the island is less complex. The island is about a mile wide and 37 miles long. The oceanfront is a dazzling beach of powdery sand, backed by 100 yards of rolling dunes. Inland of thedunes is a desertlike stretch, broken with barren flats, freshwater marshes and small ponds. Edging this interdune region are dense thickets of wax myrtle, honeysuckle, briers and poison ivy in lush profusion. On the height of land, which tops no more than 40 feet above the sea, are stands of loblolly pine—pretty, open woods that are a welcome relief from the thickets.
    Camping: The state-owned campsite charges a fee ($15 per campsite) but offers hot showers. The NPS campsite is free, but the showers are cold. Neither is crowded in the fall, but a phone call to the respective agency' would be prudent before arriving on a weekend. Assateague State Park , Rte. 2, Box 293 , Berlin , MD 21811 ; 301/641­2120. National Park Service, Rte. 2, Box 294 , Berlin , MD 21811 ; 301/641-1441.
    Gear: Many Myrkle Men favor stands, both the standard tree variety and free­standing units made from camouflaged stepladders. From what I saw, ground hunting could be equally effective. Bow tackle for whitetails is adequate. Remem­ber, however, that the sika is quite small, so practice long and hard. Insect repellent is mandatory; mosquitoes emerge on warm­ish days well into October. Hip boots might be handy in wet weather; I kept dry with 16-inch Bean boots.
    The Horses: No one knows for sure where the ponies of Assateague came from. If you camp on the island, chances are that the horses will stroll by your tent. If you leave out food they enjoy, the ponies will trash your camp. Season and License: The sika bow season on Assateague runs from mid-September through the first week in January, with a 10-day break for shotgun hunting in early December. Maryland has a reciprocal fee for out-of-state licenses, which means you will pay for your license whatever your state charges a nonresident hunter. There is a minimum charge of $45. Besides that license, you will need a bow stamp ($1.25) and a deer stamp ($5.50). Licenses are available in Ocean City.
    Transportation: On the Maryland end of Assateague, you will need a 4WD to travel the interior dune road and the beach, both of which connect at several crossings. No road runs the entire length of the island. You will need a 4WD permit from the NPS ($10 per week). A tow rope, jack (and a board to support it), tire gauge and shovel are also required. Other than on the dune road and the beach, the island is off-limits to vehicles.