Another thing I often wonder when thinking about my missed opportunities is what the ultimate fate of each deer was. Did someone else stick 'em? How big was he, really? How does he look hanging on someone else's wall [:@]? Did someone else miss him earlier in his life which allowed my opportunity? I works both ways, I suppose.

The statement about the crow stirred my memory of a mulie hunt in Colorado about 5 years ago. I was creeping along through some rough country and came to the edge of a small meadow. I slowly panned the far edge through my binos and just about had a heart attack. There, bedded just inside the far edge, was a magnificent 5X5. My mind raced 1000 MPH as I formulated a plan to put a leak in him. I watched as he stood up and slowly began feeding his way up the far slope about 100 yards away. I snuck around the meadow and took a path parallel to his as I knew there was an opening up above that he was headed for. I made it to that opening without making a SINGLE sound. I remember literally feeling proud that I had made such a stealthy stalk and that surly I would get my chance. I knelt and waited for about 5 minutes when suddenly a bluejay-looking bird swooped in and landed about 10 feet from me. He immediately spotted me and began this hideous sqauking that was amazingly loud for such a small animal. In no time at all, there was at least 1/2 dozen others that showed up and joined in the chorus.

To this day, I am convinced that, had it not been for the feathered ensemble, I would have killed that buck. He was huge. Would have scored at least 700" B&C! AT LEAST.

Anyway, I could go on all day long. I'm 26 years old and have more stories of this nature to tell than most people twice my age. Sometimes I wonder if I really just suck that bad. But then a smile will come over me when I think of all of my stories that admittedly may seem far fetched, but are true as can be. Maybe I've been luckier than at first thought. Blessed is more like it.