Tuesday, March 18, 2014


Now they call me Speedy Hahnzalez

Opening day of deer season. Low, gray clouds scudded across the sky as a harsh November wind shook our ground blind. The previous day had been balmy and comfortable, but then a nasty cold front roared in. “The deer are all bedded down,” I thought disappointedly. “There's no way they'll be out in this weath--”
“One coming in on the right!” murmured my guide, Ruben Serna. Raising his binoculars for a better look, Ruben said, “Eight points, but it's a cull buck.”