Although my first deer hunt was a few years off, I became enamored with the hunt in the late 1970s. The best day of the year was the Sunday after Thanksgiving. That’s when my dad and brothers returned from deer camp. Dad would always pull into the driveway with his truck loaded with hunting clothes, a freshly cut Christmas tree, and one, or sometimes two, frozen deer carcasses.
The defining moment of my early deer hunting education came one year when they returned with an 8-point buck. Well, we called it an 8-pointer, but it was something more like a 51/2-pointer because it had several tines broken from fighting.
The Beauty of the Hunt
That was the beauty of deer hunting…