Of foam and fur
Ahead of the firearms deer season, I pondered over my nature. An excitable guy, subject to the throes of adrenaline and emotion, fidgety and talkative, it’s a wonder I ever got into deer hunting at all, especially the kind I now enjoy most. After a couple seasons of walking hunting, a mentor introduced me to still hunting, and since then, I haven’t looked back. That’s usually because I’m seated against a steep hillside or the trunk of a large cottonwood tree to which my deer stand is attached and there’s nothing really to see in that direction anyway. But it’s also due to ...