Sure enough, that spot produced an opportunity. Six opportunities, in fact. Six deer in two different groups of three passed by me that day. Or, maybe it was the same trio giving me a second chance. But there I sat, statue still, watching their beautiful coats that were thickening for winter, big brown eyes with lashes, long legs stepping through the underbrush, black wet noses. My heart leapt, but the gun remained motionless on my lap.