THE LAST DAY
The last day of deer season has a certain temperature about it. Robust laughter bursting across a card table of happy flannel-clad hunters with their bucks hanging outside on a meatpole creates a warm feeling. By contrast, standing alone in a barren, snowy woods, clinging to the slim hope that your buck will appear in the waning seconds of the season creates a cold, lonely feeling. I have felt both.
Whether I’ve killed a buck or not, it’s almost inevitable that I’ll be in the woods for one final sit on the last day of the season. Although
