No amount of adrenaline can staunch the flow of blood from a scope bitten forehead.
Why not slip on the mad scientist’s lab coat and design the Frankenstein’s monster of all whitetails?
The new car smell in that Civic was long gone.
I opened that window just in time to see the red glow of my trail camera’s infrared flash.
If her daddy owned a half section in the heart of big buck country, I’d have learned to love her.
The sun may be setting on a brilliant hunting career, but as hunters well know, those last few rays of sunlight, those final moments before darkness falls – well, that’s the magic hour.