The brisk, frigid wind bit at the exposed skin on my face, but I dare not move. I was waiting on a big whitetail buck to travel along the edge of a wetland and knew movement would mean he’d never expose himself.
I’d been hunting the same buck for weeks and thought I finally had him patterned. The minutes turned to hours and just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to stand the cold another second a flash of brown fur caught my eye. It was a deer!