Every time I go hunting I can’t help but look.
On the side of my backpack is my untouched tag. Multiple tags actually. Buck tag. Doe tag. Bear tag. All untouched and perfectly folded in my license holder.
It’s like an ugly zit that won’t go away.
In the early archery season, I had some opportunities. Once I was picky and let a young 6-point buck walk in the hopes of a bigger deer. I also passed on a doe.
Of course Nov. 7 was the day I had a fantastic buck only to blow the shot like Shaquille O’Neal at the free throw line. I’m going to be sore about that shot for a while, as I find myself quite often reliving that moment.
The week before the bear season, my wife and I saw five bears in one morning. You know what happened during the actual bear season … zilch.
So now I’m left with these tags to fill. I’m growing desperate. This morning I saw a buck, but seeing a buck and getting a shot on one are completely different deals.
At 90-to-100 yards, the buck I saw had no intentions of slowing down for my grunt call as he was on the move. I keep telling myself I’m in the right area. I’ve seen deer. I see deer sign. And, this has been a good area in the past.
Sooner or later it’s going to happen. Right? I’m keeping positive thoughts as the days wind down, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore that pouch with the little yellow tag.