Confessions of a Hunter

By Andy Anderson

December is a month of magic, excitement, Santa, and giant, old, smart bucks. Just after the rut it always seems as if those big boys just disappear, ghost of the woods, rarely seen and seldom harvested. In a time before game cameras and the aid of other technology, you had to use your wits and serious level of commitment to harvest a late-season bruiser.

It was mid-November, the rut was over and the fury of active bucks chasing does had started to calm down. The big boys were a lot more cautious and nearly nocturnal in behavior patterns. A freeze had settled in one evening and that morning we had no water. Just as the sun was breaking the horizon, I walked out to the well house to assess the issue. I entered the well house and began working to thaw the pipes out. I was in there for about 30 to 40 minutes, got some heaters going and was about to head to the house to warm up.

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