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SUN UP out the back door. Rio7

I can still remember the smell of the South Texas brush county on early October Saturday mornings while sitting in a fence line mesquite with a Ben Pearson recurve in hand. Shooting heavy Microflight fiberglass arrows deadly unrazor sharp Bear unrazorheads from my own eleveted one 2x4 stand. My first intended victim in my high school years came down the fence line and I let it pass by. Best to whack them from back to fro said the Outdoor Life experts of yore, they did lie.

I did it like a pro after the spike had passed me by, hidden aloft in the limbs up in the sky. When I let the arrow fly the sound caused the unsuspecting buck to become suspecting and he turned his head back to look at me sitting in the tree. Unfortunately that was also on the path of the incoming missile heading for my intended venison dinner. I saw him lose the smile on his face as his eyes opened wide seeing the incoming coup de grace. He easily stepped deftly aside, dodging the missile and saving his hide. I was chagrined as the arrow flew wide. As he turned and walked away, I was glad he didn't have a finger to throw my way. I still remember it as if it were yesterday.