She had followed the first doe from the patch of saplings to my West with 30 minutes of shooting light left. Sitting high in a single maple with only a small immature sampling breaking up my outline, I had hauled my old climber deep into the overgrown remunerates of a swamp, and was watching a doe work her way from the west toward my tree. This natural funnel has provided plenty of quality encounters and on this particular night, put a doe in shooting range.
The shot was fast and lethal, exactly what we want as hunters. The drag 40 acres to the road, however, was not.