“I hope the deer passed peacefully. It was bittersweet finding him – I had hoped he was alive and on camera, but I’m happy to have closure and his rack for his memory. I was amazed at how far animals had dragged his bones.”
—Serena Juchnowski
It haunts you. The memory lives deep inside your soul, never truly forgotten. If it doesn’t, you need to evaluate who you are as a hunter.
I watched for him all summer. Even from a distance, he was beautiful. He didn’t know it, but he was mine. Though a bit grainy and blurry, cell phone pictures of him sent shivers through me, drawing near tears of admiration.
I showed his picture around at my shooting competitions that year, still a few months remaining before I could pursue him. He had a big body, but his unusually tall rack is what stood out to me. When opening day came, I was ready. I stealthily tucked myself into the blind hidden away in my grandmother’s yard and waited. I don’t recall all of the details of that day, but I remember the tensest moments. It wasn’t too long before sunset when the buck I had been dreaming about melted out of
