Doe fever
By Nick Simonson
The first morning of muzzleloader season arrived clear, cold, and calm. With just the faintest bit of dawn edging over the eastern hills, I ventured down to the southernmost
stretch of a favorite piece of public access land and followed the flags along the hillside break to the final mark on my GPS. The grass coming up from the cottonwood
stand on the riverbank was well-traveled and along the way I noted sign and scat in the beam of my headlamp that suggested heavy doe traffic, perfect for the antlerless whitetail tag I had and for buoying the hopes of harvesting my first deer with my inline. The prospects of the early morning conditions excited me as I crossed the pinch point and entered the open meadow. I burrowed in against a small stand of buck brush on the hillside. The position gave me shots at trails running at 20, 50 and 100 yards along the narrows
formed by the half-iced river. I tucked my hunting pack into the base of the cluster of wrist-thick trunks at my right. The bush’s angling branches provided a nice screen to break
up my outline, and another stand down and to my left did the same, creating a 10-to-2 shooting lane with ample cover to conceal my nervous energy.
