At this time a year ago, I was convinced I was retiring from deer hunting. It just doesn’t flip my switch the way it used to, which I found surprising considering I was consumed with it when I was younger.
I tried just about everything – rattling horns, making mock scrapes, heading up days in advance of the opener to scout – even running them with hounds when I lived in the South. I remember one year, when I didn’t kill a buck, that I hunted 15 of the 16 days of gun season, missing one when I had to go to a funeral.
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