Pine Knot Outdoors: Mirage

When I slow down, staring out the window late at night, it eats at me. It pulls at me. It bothers me, but I try to ignore it. Thirty years I’ve hunted whitetails. Not this year. It began in September. I could barely walk, and pulling back my bow was an exercise in frustration. It ramped up during rifle season. I knew I could sit for a while, but dragging and processing a deer would prove difficult, if not impossible. I waited. Each week I hoped the next weekend would find me healthy enough to spend a day in the whitetail woods. I seriously contemplated heading to Wisconsin for their rifle seas...