I was sitting in a stand with my rifle on my lap, back against the tree, wind in my face. It was foggy, raining softly, and the wet woods were silent. I heard hoof beats on the dirt, angled behind me on my offside. I tilted my head back and out of the corner of my eye saw a large bodied deer approaching and a flash picture of dark and heavy antlers. I could risk shifting position to take him now at 25 yards, or wait until he passed close behind me. Hidden by the tree, I lifted my rifle to intercept him when he walked into view. The distance would be about 15 feet.
The buck froze behind my tree. I was also frozen, staring down through the sights of a .35 Remington at a patch of ground, waiting. I could hear the buck breathing, and I was sure he could hear my heart pounding. The sound of rain hitting the leaves at his feet somehow grew louder and louder. It seemed endless.
I heard the burst of air leaving the buck’s lungs as bounded straight away behind me. I knew it was over in that instant, but I stood and tried to frame the deer in my sights as he moved low and fast through the brush. I caught a glimpse of moving grey and brown before he disappeared.
