I blew my chance at a record book deer when, in my stupidity, I touched the rhody on the scrape line I knew he traveled. He got within 25 yards, smelled right where I had walked, and got real nervous for about 2 minutes. There I was in the Lounge, knees smacking together, praying that he'd move out from under the sassafras that was blocking my shot. The wind picked up, swirled, and he was gone like he'd seen a ghost. His reaction was obviously why he'd gotten sooooo big.