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I remember one time I was about 16/17 years old. I was hunting the last weekend of buck season. This was around 84/85. I was hunting in the hollow behind the house I grew up in. There was about 6 to 8 inches of snow on the ground. The fine powdery stuff. The snow that burps every time you step on it. It was cold. I mean cold. I started the day around 6 in the morning I hunted all day. Walking, standing, walking some tracks. I saw doe all day. About mid day I caught a nice sized track that wondered through the thick stuff alone. I was sure it was a buck. I stalked and sneaked that track for hours. I saw when I would get close. I saw where this fella would stand and watch me go by. He walked over top over two moutains and down through a hollow I could map from memory. I never got him. Heck I never saw him.

The sun set that evening was warm. The colors made you feel as though you were standing by a wood fire with warm cider in your belly. I went home, not dissapointed, not tired, but alive. Like I said the day was cold. But not once did I notice the chill. I remember the smell of the pines in the lower valley. It was nature's perfume. I stopped once to watch a group of turkeys putt and purr along a hill side. A couple of times while posting I would stop and plan my next approach to see some deer. Ya know, not once did I feel tired or hungry. I remember being proud of my effort. I remeber being proud that every time I made a choice to stand or move somewhere I saw deer. I remember belonging to it all. I remember being a part of all of it.

The soup mom made that day was probably the best ever, until her next pot. The house was warm. No TV to watch just talking the day over with Pop. Why am I telling you about this day? I don't know. Do yourself a favor stop and remember once in a while. Shut the radio off, turn off the TV, stop and remember. Remember the things that only hunters remember. I thank God for it. I owe my parents so much for the freedom and the opportunity. I owe that buck for one great day to remember. As our world and country are changing around us, remember, it was the simple things that made it fun when we were kids.
 

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Dave great story.It should remind us all of what really counts when we are out there.Thanks for making me remeber one time.
 

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I wish more people see the world for what it is like you.

Great post!
 

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A true sportsman like fairviewdave is thankful for every opportunity and can capture and describe a moment well enough that most of us wish we could've been there, too.

Then you have some "hunters" today that given the exact series of events would translate that story into -- deer hunting [censored]; there ain't no deer anymore!
 
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