WE CALLED IT the Cove—and oh man, it was a gorgeous place to hunt. Run a climber up a tree and I could see along the bank of the creek for 75 yards, with deep views into the hardwoods. A low, flood-prone opening was ringed with greenbrier and blackberry, like a timbered lagoon, and trellised with deer trails. This deep in the woods, this far from the road, the whitetails didn’t seem to mind crossing the opening. There didn’t seem to be anywhere danger could hide.
But the tree with.