Pondering Minnesota’s half-century whitetail “baby boom” and increased bag limits

It was a perfect day in late September. The summer heat had passed, and in its place came the soft sunshine of early autumn. That perfect day was my first ever in a deer blind – a patch of tall grass along a fenceline overlooking a half-chopped field of green corn stalks, their leaves lightly brushed yellow by the changing season.
I was 12 years old, impatient, and determined to harvest a deer on my very first hunt. After the sun rose, I decided I’d sat long enough. I walked out into the field, found a set of tracks, and decided to test my stalking abilities.