No, I'm not posting a picture of a 3 point. I don't want the guys from Montana laughing at me.
My dad also got one, the day before out of the same blind. We were about 130 miles north of Green Bay, WI. Froze my arse off, but it paid off.
Odd time to get a deer. Just before 3pm, I had just got settled in to sit for the end of the day. Another hunter scared him up into me. Worst possible position, over my right shoulder. He comes up, sees my blind, and winds me just as I lean forward to take a look. He disappears into thick brush and heads down hill, well outside my shooting lanes. I'm twisted in my chair and leaning trying to pick him. I finally see him about 50 yards out in thick brush, partially blocked by trees, heading directly away from me. I didn't want to hit him in the guts, so I aimed high and squeezed off a round. He goes down. I scramble out, and head towards him. Deer is down, but not mortally wounded. I got close, took careful aim and put him down.
It was great to call my dad. He picks up, and the first thing I say is, 'bring the sled'. I'm almost 42, but he still swells with pride if I get a deer, like I was 14.
Its a 10 hour drive in the truck from Ann Arbor to Crystal Falls, MI where we hunt. My dad is starting to talk about his own mortality and his failing eye sight. He has known the ambiguities and trials of being a 40 something. It was good talking to the old man.
I'm going to miss the him when he's gone. I live in a cosmopolitan world, one that I'm not a perfect fit for. My dad is a tough, resourceful outdoorsman. Were both happy sitting around a fire listening to the coyotes sing and drinking whisky. I fear we are a dying breed.
The cabin we hunt from is on Lake Mary, outside Crystal Falls. When I took this photo, there wasn't a human sound to be heard.
