Do you have one? A memory of a hunting screw-up that haunts you now and then? One you remember more clearly than many of your most successful hunts?

Here's mine.

Fall of 1969. Back then our deer population was only a fraction of what it is today. Seeing a deer was something to talk about after the hunt. Actually killing one entitled you to bragging rights for at least a year. A buck over four points was a trophy to be envied by all of your friends.

I'm sneaking through the mixed oaks, sweetgum, and cypress of the Pearl River Wildlife Management Area just Northeast of New Orleans. Happened upon a giant gumtree blowdown that left the trunk forming a ramp that I could walk up, and take a seat in the crotch formed by the first huge branch which, though it was once thirty feet up when the tree was standing, is now about ten feet above ground level on the leaning tree. A perfect set up.

I sat up there all morning, quiet as could be even though I was feeding the mosquitoes a hearty meal. Finally, around 11 a.m. I'd had enough of the inactivity. Made my way down to ground level. Leaned my rifle against the rootball to take a leak. Looked up into the eyes of an 8-pointer not thirty yards away. How he got there, I don't know. Why I didn't see him sooner, I don't know. Why he didn't see me walking down that tree trunk, I don't know. What I do know is if I had sat up there five minutes longer I would have been king of our little hunting group. I also learned a buck can spin around and disappear faster than you can say "Holy ****!!!".

Anyway, I'll never forget that hunt.