Thought provoking post. A man must dig deep into his memory bank and consider all the mistakes made while in the deer woods. Seasons past, hopefully enjoyed with close family or friends, dug up from beneath the surface and uncovered with the hesitation of someone exuming a body from the graveburied ages ago. Inspection time. Disection. Fine tooth comb. tim Tebow.

I have hunted the woods of middle Ga and North Florida my entire life. Gone out by myself more than a few times and once stayed 3 weeks in a tent during the month of October when it was so warm I literally prayed for a lung failure one late night. Panic.

My biggest struggle with that life-long pursuit of the elusive whitetail deer is probably more to do with danger. Probably take too many risks while chasing mossy horns about the woods. Cause for concern. Whether it is not drinking enough water or harrassing alligators, I would say risk taking is my main fault.

Salty tooth hanging in the branches at neck level? Probably spit tobacco juice on him and have an old fashioned stare down. Come accross an underhanded raccoon or armedillo with an appetite for caucasion blood? It is likely that I will throw dirt clods at him, or maybe sharp sticks.

But to me, danger is part of the experience. Do I flirt with danger? yes. To a fault? More than likely. But again, guys, when yoou GREW UP HUNTING THESE VERY WOODS THAT YOU STILL HUNT TODAY as a grown man, you have to demand respect. And I get it.