I saw several bucks that day, but two stand out in my memory as being special. The first was a beautiful 10-pointer--one of the biggest I've ever seen--crossing the field about 250 yards away an hour after sunrise. I could tell by his fast, purposeful strides and the fact that he was traveling in a straight line that he was heading to a specific destination. My first two grunts brought no reaction, so I blew a little harder. On the third grunt he stopped and looked my way. My hopes rose, but, alas, it was not to be. After a brief pause, he turned his head and kept right on going. Subsequent grunts seemed to fall on deaf ears.