These are the days that the bowbenders find themselves in a solitary perch with maximum camoflage blending into their surroundings and loving it.
I was part of that scenario this morning when the noisest buck I'd ever heard roared his way into veiw. Unfortunately he was concerned with the unatural camoflaged blob in the tree he was headed toward and turned back and melted from my sight again. His absence was short lived though when a hot doe crossed his path and led him back into one of my shooting lanes.
I'm relatively sure that most hunters feel a certain sense of remorse after taking the life of one of these magnificent creatures as I always do. The shot was perfect and I listened as the giant deer crashed and fell not far from my treestand. I can only imagine the generations of hunters before me that have felt this bittersweet emotion, and I thank God that I still have the privilege to act out my instincts.