and a strong cup of coffee

My trail camera sent me a picture of a big, wide 6 pointer that was in the area where I was headed.  I wondered how far he might have traveled between then and when I would be in the woods.  It was an off morning.  My son wanted to hunt but was complaining about his extra layers of clothing and how tight it made his boots.  I had on 3 of my 5 layers (remember, I sit for hours and hours!) and was rushing to get him out of the door along with packing all of my stuff.  I knew as soon as I walked outside that I was in trouble.  I was sweaty. I walked to the same stand as I had sat in last week and again, I jumped a deer.  It was dark and I tried to listen to figure out how far and in which direction the deer was moving. When I reached the stand, the rungs were icy from the rain the night before and the chilly temps.  I carefully climbed up and listened.  The wind was rustling the dead leaves in the trees.  As the sun came up, drops of frost ...

Week two of rifle season was completely different than week one.  I changed stands and jumped a deer as soon as I got into the woods.  I've been hunting for almost half of my life now and for the first time, as I walked into the woods alone, the sound of something so close that I could not see did not send my heart beating out of my chest.  Instead, I listened to see if I could keep it from running too far away by slowing continuing on to my stand.  It was warmer than the week before which meant sitting for 12 hours would be much more bearable. I settled into the stand quieter than I normally do, knowing that the deer was not too far away. There was a slight breeze coming from behind me and I shifted a few inches to use the wall to block it from carrying my scent downwind to the deer.   The woods were quiet and I always marvel at the period of time where the world is black and white. Geese started honking in the cornfield nearby.  Crows and Bluejays st...