in the right spot . My round-wheeled compound bow hit full draw and the heavy aluminum arrow arched through the cold air .
Striking the buck with a resounding thud , the deer tore off through the hardwoods , crashing down a ravine and up the other side . As he wobbled away on the high ground he seemed to disappear . I ’ d spent a total of two hours in the stand on my first
sit of the weekend . A few hours later , Twhen many AmerTicans were gearing up to watch football pregashows , my dad , brother and I recovered the buck . He had crashed just after I ost sight of him , and he looked as big as a moose on the ground . Dad couldn ’ t help but bring the stout racked buck into town to show some of his buddies .
Above , a small buck hitting a fresh scrape line . Left , a much younger author with his Thanksgiving buck .
That buck , taken over 20 years ago , opened my eyes to the importance of the first sit in a stand . Prior to that memorable Thanksgiving morning , I would set my stands before the season opened and make
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