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Game Over.

November 16, Southeastern Ohio. The finish line for the '08 season was clearly in view.There were nooff-days in sight, and I could count the rest of my hunting opportunities on three fingers.I still had a tag.

I do not eat tags.

Yesterday, when the clock hit 3:15 a.m., I was running on 3 hours' sleep and headed west, totally cranked-up on Mountain Dew and AMPED about the day's hunt. We had anasty front move through, andit dragged alow pressure trough in on its heels. The top bracket buckshad beenkinda sluggish for the past few days with the heat and stormy weather - so I guess yesterday was the perfect storm. It was going to be my best last chance. The writing was on the wall for a banner day.

Gorgeous day to bowhunt the rut: overcast, wet, snowy, temps never topping 35.

I tried a new stand site that I'd pegged in shed season, focusing on a narrow swath of rosebushes and greenbriars that benched around a ridge. Wind out of the SWwould keep my scent off the ridge, and give me an opportunity, god willing.

It's a steep place. One where you can't see very well. Hard to access, but a good area to catch bucks cruising the slenderthicket for a doe. Due to the geographics, I figured I could pick off a good deer as he came through the strip. I gave myself ample time to slide in there without causing much of a disturbance.

15 minutes before daybreak, I had everything in place - and was there for the long haul. Cell phone charged, game-face on, I was ready to turn it loose.

As planned, itdidn't take long.

8:05 - a deer that looked to be pretty decentcame cruising around the ridge. Glints of deer and antler slid through every opening. He was silent and his gait was steady. It was far, thick, steep downhill - I almost passed the shot, but I got a better look and realized that he might be a step better than I'd originally thought.

Another snap decision. Take it.

I pulled the bow off the hook andanchored at full draw . . .when he hit the only clearing I had, I let out a really loud bleat.

He froze and turned to look. Time stood still. Snowflakes suspended in the air. The breeze was no more. My watch hung up on 8:07.

It was a long downhill shot, with a fair amount of clutter. 30+. Making matters worse, I was a mile high in a poplar tree. Without deliberation, I settled the pin on the vitals, took my time and clinked the trigger.

Tink.

Dead silence...

Thump.

Gone.

He bolted straight down over the bank, and vanished into the thicket like a thief in the night. He didn't run balls-out, but didn't act like he wasn't hurt.

Just like that, my watch skipped back to 8:08. Snowflakes peppered my face, and that stiff southwesterly breeze again stirred the treetops.

No idea where I hit. On top of that, I never really got a great look at the rack, so I didn't even know what he looked like. I just knew I saw long main beams andnot manypoints. I replayed the scenario at least 100x in my mind.

Doubt and Excitement. Victory and Defeat. Depression and Adrenaline.

So I waited. And waited... Ugh.

As the snow picked up, my bloodtrail was being washed awaywith every fluffy flake. I wanted to give him until noon, but there would be no blood left by then. It was snowing like hell, and mother nature didn't look like she seemed to care so much about me, and what was happeningdown there inmy little slice of heaven... Unforgiving.

The snow wasn't piling up on the ground, but it was melting all over the rain-soaked leaves. Slushing and oozing my bloodtrail away, by the minute. I just couldn't wait any longer, so I got down to scope out my arrow. It was already washed clean. Just a pink tint of watered-down blood on the crest. A tuft of hair marked the hit.

The blood was almost nil, and impossible to find in the soaking wet floor. Blood droplets were turned to red Kool Aid. I nocked an arrow and started hounding it. Lucky for me, I didn't have to go too far to hit the pot of gold at the end of this rainbow. He was piled up within 30 yards.

Perfect double-lunger. Buck Down.

I love public land.

So this year was another rousing success. Limited time. Limited resources. Limited options. But as of 8:05 on 11/16, bone was on the ground for the second time, with three arrows left in the quiver.

As the sun set on 2008, my 2009 hunting season began. The dawn of a new day. Effective Immediately...

Game Over.