Marty was on him now, eyeing him carefully through the big lens. "He's a typical four by four, with nice eye guards. If he has any kind of spread, he's gonna be a real nice buck," he said. I was already slipping into my camo overpants, in anticipation of a stalk. The wind was fierce, and even wearing several layers of clothes, I felt chilled after leaving the warmth of the cab. Now I was on my binocular, again trying to gauge his spread, but the buck never moved. Studying the ground around him we counted at least four does and figured there were probably a few more tucked away in the sage. Making any kind of stalk from where we were would be impossible without spooking the entire herd.