The deer were about 500 yards away. The big 5x5 got in a shoving match with a smaller buck (and by smaller, I mean still big, a definite wall-hanger), eventually flipping him on his back and pushing him uphill, dust flying over sagebrush.
A five-strand barbed-wire fence, maybe 350 yards out, ran between us and the deer. Piece of cake, I thought. We circle the back of this hill behind us, cross the fence, crawl up, and we’ll be looking right over them. I voiced my strategy to Byron. “No,” he whispered. “That fence is our ranch boundary. Hopefully, they’ll work this way.”