You guys aren't going to like me...

I had a nice eight at Fifty yards on Saturday evening ( normally a slam dunk shot). I sat in the freezing cold all day waiting and watching for my opportunity. I preserved snow, wind, sleight, nastiness, etc. I was sopping wet, cold, and essentailly drained from shivering. I watched this buck for two hours while he fed with a doe. My finger tips were nimb from holding my bow. When It came time to shoot him, I couldn't pull my bow. My tried and tested work horse was not going to sing-even after eight unsuccessful attempts to get her back (I think she was as iced up as I). The buck drifted away into the fog.

Earlier today, I left my "A" bowin the case and opted for my "B" bow. The poundage on this bow is much less (60 verses 78). I saw six nice bucks but none within range. I could have killed a spike (slipped up on him while he was sleeping).A fall turkey popped her head up forty yards in front of me. It was a mistake she'll never make again. The Eastman Silver Strike flew true. Her neck was severed from her body.