Opening Weekend of Deer Season

It was my most important two days of the year this past weekend.  Opening day of the firearm deer season in Wisconsin.

It was a weird year.

For the first time since the sixties or seventies neither my grandpa nor I was at his spot on opening weekend.  He hunted the same property since '46, on a friend's land.  But his step children have pushed us to lesser spots this year.

To put this into perspective, the last time I cried (in 2000), I shed three tears the day after my grandpa died and I spent the afternoon watching Regan's funeral on tv.  (I'm no particular fan of Regan, fyi.)  And my eyes nearly moistened when I saw the big hunting box that was built next to My Favorite Tree and Grandpa's ground blind.

So, instead of hunting my favorite tree I sat elsewhere, for the first time on opening weekend.

Did I get one?  Of course!

Like dad says, "We don't need luck; we've got Tim."

This poor buck hobbled, by on 2.5 good legs.  I felt bad for the deer so I ended his pain.

I've heard that if a buck gets an injured leg, then the next year his antler on the other side will be odd.  That is true in this case.

A good buck nonetheless and with a 17.75" tip-to-tip spread!