Hunting Nature
<Tab/>I watched the 8-point Virginia buck feast on the ripe berry bush next to the caterpillar green field from my stand. Sweat was streaming down my parched face, as I clinched my .30-.30 Winchester tightly to my right cheek and glazed down her sights. The searing hot summer sun and the orchestra of crickets screeching all around were little distractions compared to the mosquitoes that were arbitrarily feasting on my body. The buck was about 80 yards away and seemed as though he was enjoying himself in the pleasant shade of a large old oak tree, nestled on…
