I marked the spot in my mind where the deer was standing when I shot. Waiting a short half hour I walked right to the spot. I found where he had been standing with no problem, turned up leaves marked the place where his hooves had launched him into his escape. Search ever so hard I could find no evidence on the ground of a hit, not a drop of blood or a single hair. As panic once again began bringing me back down from the clouds I was in, I searched in ever widening circles for some sign of a hit. After a few minutes of fruitless search for some reason I stopped searching for blood and moved down the deer’s trail to a ridge and systematically began to visually search the timber for my buck. I saw him lying there about 70 yards away, and was launched once again from the deepest of depths into an emotional high that would leave me smiling for days straight and still brings a smile every time I remember. He was a fully mature, perfectly symmetrical; snow white 8 point that would score slightly over 100 inches. No record book winner but a priceless trophy to me.
A gentle snow began to fall as I field dressed and dragged out my buck, bringing a picturesque ending to the perfect day. What a ride, what a story I had just lived through. Maybe that’s why I’ll never get enough. I can’t wait for my next trip afield. With any luck it will be an adventure filled with lows and highs, feeding the flame of my passion for the outdoors like “Another Log on the Fire”.