Twelve-year-old Louis Rossignol Jr. hadn’t been in his box stand overlooking the foodplot for 10 minutes, and his heart was already in his throat. His eyes bugged. He didn’t breath; he gasped. His father — tense, eyes riveted — looked over his son’s shoulder.[…]
The hunter leaned against a tree, intently inspecting the surrounding woods and enjoying an apple.[…]
Tony Chachere Jr. had been hunting Three Rivers Wildlife Management Area for several years, and he had killed a couple of deer.[…]
It had been raining for several days, but my hunting partner and I were undeterred.[…]
The day had aged by only about 15 minutes when the buck appeared about 40 yards from the stand.[…]
The situation appears perfect. A nice buck and two mature does are 100 yards in front of your stand. They are feeding in the wide open. They don’t know you exist. You can already taste the paneed backstrap.[…]
Robert Clay’s instructions were clear.
“Walk down this road, and you’ll come to a flagged stake,” he said.[…]
It was as though the animal had popped out of the ground, as deer are seemingly apt to do in food plots.[…]
As a youngster, I devoured my uncle’s outdoor magazines. He was a chemical engineer, a machinist, a shooter and a gunsmith — and I hero-worshiped him as only a kid can.[…]
Deer hunting isn’t really about racks. Well, it isn’t all about antlers.[…]