Let’s face it, we’ve all done it, and by “we all” I mean the vast majority of deer hunters – We’ve put OUR name on a deer before God did His pa
Every year, I have pictures of dozens of bucks that roam the lands I’m fortunate to hunt. And, every year, about 99.9% of those bucks either live to grow another year because they don’t make the “hit list” or wind up expiring at the hands of another hunter – the hunter who was meant to harvest that animal in the first place. . . if you think like me that is.
This year has been no different, further bolstering my separation from the mentality that seeing or getting thousands of pictures of a deer doesn’t mean it’s YOURS. A true conservationist knows that wildlife belong to us all, and that a New Mexico Bull Elk, a Grizzly Bear from somewhere in the middle of Alaska, or a White-tail Buck from the heart of North Carolina isn’t yours until it walks out in front of you and meets its demise with a shot from your bow or gun.
I’m a firm believer that as hunters we can do all of the right things to improve our odds of success at bringing home the buck that lives in our dreams or that special one we have trail-camera pictures of, but in the end, there’s a Higher Power that makes the ultimate decision on the who, where, & when – The why might not always be easily understood, but sometimes, it’s to humble guys like the one I used to be and turn them into the hunter that they’re meant to become.

