In shadowy dark with faint sounds of a babbling brook
You hike through the forest
a jungle of brush surrounding you
The ground damp from the morning dew
Whispers of faint surrounding wind

You make it to your tree-stand and slowly scale up
You sit there on cold brittle metal
Darkness and trees encompass you
Up in the sky you catch a glimpse of first light
The sun slowly rises and within an hour
The bright light makes you squint your eyes

Watching every little field and meadow
Waiting for a mature deer to come strolling in
Clouds come in and cover the sun
Dimming the bright forest
The sky is gray; the forest is still
The freshly harvested stubs of corn
Leaves strung along the forest floor
The scant breeze against your face

All of a sudden you hear soft footsteps of something approaching
You look into the distance towards the edge of the clearing
There comes a buck strolling in ever so carefully

The pounding of your heart
As a beautiful creature tan and brown
With tines of bone weighing his head down
Some cracked off from sparring, others moss grown
A very elder and mature deer; maybe 5 years old
Browses in front of you with his head perked up
Poised to sprint away from the slightest movement

You reach for your gun in a slow swift motion
The grip is brittle and cold
Your hands are quivering
Your heart is pounding with little control
You slowly put the animal in your sights
Aiming the tip of your barrel towards the rear of its shoulder
You squeeze the trigger slowly and… BOOM!
Your ears ring like a bell from the blast
You smell the scent of gunpowder leaving your barrel

The deer swiftly darts off towards the treeline
He slows down and comes to a halt
You smile as you leave your stand
Ready for the tender taste of venison