UPHOLDING THE LURE
It was a quiet morning, the type where you could hear traffic all the way out on the thruway several miles away, but now add the distinct blowing “whooshes” from a deer just arrowed resonating up from the thick goldenrod a ways below my stand. I saw the shot well enough to be confident, but began to wonder how a buck so wounded could stand down there blowing in either anger or fright.
New to the game by a mile, just my second year of bow hunting, I hadn’t considered those could be its final breaths I was hearing. The noise did shortly subside, and I
