Sitting in my stand I contemplate whether or not I've done all I can to
increase my odds of drilling the big boy. Since I'm carrying a Buck's only
tag with me, anything with legal sized antlers is game. However, who
wouldn't want to brag about a huge rack.
This is one of two weekends at
my disposal to bag a deer. I run the details through my head over and over;
wind, scent, location, timing, all seem to be in check. As the hours pass,
I realize that not all is as it seems. The weather has done a complete 180
(my proper location nullified), the temperature has dropped and old ma'
nature decided to drop 9 cm of snow overnight.
So, what do I do, pack my shit and get outta dodge or swallow my disdain
for the meteorologists and sit it out. Well, I'm here, so I might as well
Now this is the part where you need to let go of your so called 'control'
of the situation. Odds are, since almost everything you've done and
prepared for is out the window, priorities now change. The 'Elusive' Big
Buck wish may now just be the 'meat for the table' reality.
After waiting a little while I hear what seems to be the same red squirrel
that's been antagonizing me for the past 6 years or so. I look to my left
and low and behold there walks Mr. 'Meat for the table'. I raise the old
Remington model 742 and drill him at the one and only time he presents a
shot. He trots another 40 yds and gives his life to my family and I. He's a
young one 3 points, maybe 4. The family cares not what adorns yon little
skull but rather the tender mild taste of the flesh. But I digress.
There are many measures of success in the outdoors. Personal opinions and
ideals drive what one bases success upon. Of course it would be nice to get
some head gear to puff my chest about. But, in the grand scheme of things,
quarry for the table determines success in my opinion. The freezer is
looking pretty dam healthy right now, the 'provider' is doing his job.