****EDIT check page 2 or 3 for fixed photos****
As a husband and father of three, it would be fair to say that any time away for hunting is cherished now more than ever before. September and October had yielded very little from a hunting standpoint; and not for lack of effort. My boots were worn out, and if I'm being honest, my spirits were wearing out too. I had been looking forward to November with hopes that the rut and cooler weather would turn things around. It's a hunt that I do with my dad, as well as other family. It's a special one.
I arrived at camp and was welcomed by -20 degrees. Average people can't imagine being outdoors in temps like that, but not hunters. We live for it, don't we? I was fired up to get on the mountain the next morning. I hiked into a spot that held promise. Right near the top of the mountain I was overwhelmed by the feeling that there must be a deer nearby. I stood still and studied the trees and openings around me. Suddenly I noticed a face staring at me. Before I lifted my binoculars, I already knew it was a buck based on its broad nose. He was standing at about 60 yards, but all I could make out were his bases and the general shape of his antlers. Counting points would be difficult but I didn't get too excited because he did not look to be a legal four point muley. I took a short video of him; watching the buck and his doe for a minute or two before they slowly walked down a couple of little declines and through the trees. It was exciting. As I was wrapping up my hunt, I heard a call on the radio that my cousin had shot a buck and needed a hand. We were on the board.
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