As I do on any November morning, I walked to my treestand full of hope and excitement. I had an archery deer tag in my pocket, access to a gorgeous farm, and a weather forecast that called for cool temps and high pressure. “Today is the day,” was my mantra as I slipped through the pre-dawn toward a stand I’d hung the day before. How’d it go?
I didn’t see a whitetail all morning. Actually, I spotted the ears of what had to be the area’s smallest fawn, bobbing through waist-high CRP as the tiny deer cut across the prairie. I suppose seeing part of a little deer is better than a skunking, but when you are hunting some of the Midwest’s best deer lands during peak whitetail rut, that’s a small victory.
