There I was, in my saddle.
I’d had a marvelous CrossFit workout before heading to the woods.
My 6.5 Creedmoor was across my lap, ready to go.
I heard a twig snap and I knew a buck that would make even Timber Blankenship proud was headed towards my strategically placed corn pile.

“Killing tomorrow’s trophies today.”

On the distance I like to walk to my stands:
“The first 100 yards is also the last 100 yards.”