At first, it was only a faint squeak that caught my attention. Then, the telltale snap of the smallest twig. Drawing upon my finely honed hunting skill acquired from over a quarter century of combat with the mighty whitetail, I turn my gaze slowly, pinpointing nature’s alarm bells like a hunting machine.

Fawn bleat, crack, crunch… multiple deer! Instincts take over. Brain begins to battle physical reaction of muscle twitches. Twitches become spasms. Brown moving – one deer. Flash of white contrasted against the hunter green of swamp balsam and cedar – that’s two: doe and fawn. Spasms become convulsions. Arms flail miserably into air while heart pounds out of chest and eyes rotate independently. Could this be all – only two small deer? Man, I can’t hold rifle up; no feelings below waist yet sweat bleeding from forehead.

Get a grip! Fingers, aching – gun, damn cold. Sphincter, unreliable. Deer, turning to leave – jeez! But wait, something catches my eye between head snap and spastic writhing. My God, nice buck! Good eye to scope – side of tree and arm prop rifle to steady bounce. Breathe in, exhale halfway and hold. Squeeze… stop! No good – too much bounce. Start over; breathe in, exhale and hold deer accommodating – squeeze, a little harder, more, more… BANG!

Nice buck, wide fork. Never a doubt…

Mental Note: Must ask doctor about these convulsions.