It was just a couple of weeks later that disappointment would turn to jubilation. After an unsuccessful morning hunt with my friend Sarah, I headed back into the woods on the afternoon of November 7. I climbed up my tree, pulled my bow up, and took my backpack off. I turned toward the tree to put a strap on it, and when I turned back around, there stood a giant buck 30 yards from my tree. It wasn’t Infinity, but it was a remarkable buck nonetheless—a shooter. I nocked an arrow, got my release out of my backpack, and drew my bow. I waited for him to walk into my sights, grunted him to a stop, and let my arrow fly. I hit my mark.
As he ran off I prayed, “Please let him drop. Please let him drop.” He went about 60 yards.