Clack, clack-ity, clack, clack…clack.
Pause.
“Clack, clack-ity, clack, clack…clack.”
A strange woodland sound drifted up through early November’s trees. I climbed quietly down from of my stand, bow in hand and ever so carefully stalked to the edge of a meadow. And there I was treated to my first buck fight.
That was back in the 1970s and ever since, I’ve been drawn to that “clack-ity clack” woodland sound.
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