The thermometer read in the single digits and 3 inches of snow had fallen the previous day. It was Nov. 19, 1978 — the second day of Wisconsin’s gun-deer hunting season.
It was my third season of hunting deer and I had yet to shoot a buck. In my first year, I had a nice buck lined up but the old military .30 carbine that I was using jammed. All my cousins had gotten bucks but I was beginning to think maybe hunting wasn’t for me.