As I walked back to my truck along the cornfield at dawn last September, nervous energy was still swirling in my head.
I just shot a great buck with my bow. The shot hit the target perfectly, but the deer fell into the corn after the shot. It’s an unpleasant feeling. After waiting a half hour, I climbed out of the tree and followed the blood toward the corn for about 20 feet before losing track for a few seconds.
“Back off,” I thought. “That’s what you trained him for.”