Rustling leaves can be deceiving, another squirrel. A stick snapping signals something much heavier. The rhythm in the leaves causes my heart to pound from adrenalin. It has to be a deer approaching. Clutching the nock to the string, my fingers bounce with the heartbeat.
Few things in my life have been like it. The thrill never goes away. I am not alone, the yearning for opening day. We get better at it, being in the right place at the right time.
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