I look over at my Dad, I can see he has his attention focused to our downwind side. I get that sinking feeling that the jig was about to be up and the bull would wind us. I pick my bugle tube up and try to get my Dad’s attention. My efforts are unsuccessful though so I decide I’m about to go for broke and challenge this guy, make him throw caution to the wind (literally) and come charging in. And why not, this set is about to be a bust. I raise the tube to my lips just as I hear rocks sliding and pebbles crunching. My eyes catch movement ten yards away just behind a pinion.  

Okay so let’s backtrack, as in 32 years or so. I want you folks to know me a bit before we get into this story. I grew up in the flat lands of North Carolina, we were a hunting family, but we were also a military family which is what set us in NC. Dad was a member of a special operations group, well, two different groups during the course of his career actually. Duty called and it called often, but when he was home and it was hunting season you could find us one of two places, cutting firewood or hunting. He started me out small game and dove hunting, this drew me in because this meant I got to spend time with Dad. Soon he introduced me to deer hunting and I found myself sitting in a homemade stand six feet in a tree with a .410 and two or three slugs. Dad was always close by of course but sitting there alone fully immersed me in the surroundings and a true passion was born. I couldn’t wait to harvest my first big game animal.  But before I could ever tag my first whitetail a new dream was born.