The alarm clock's constant ringing let's me know that it's time to go. I slowly ease out of bed, tired from a night with no sleep, and rub my eyes. I stretch and yawn, and look outside to see how dark it is. I've got plenty of time; I can't even see the sun starting to rise yet. I go put a pot of coffee on, and get my clothes ready. After the usual morning "rituals", I have my first 2 cups of coffee and start getting dressed; being sure each garment goes on like it's supposed to, in order. First the long johns, then the sweats, then the camouflage, and finally the orange vest. I sip down the last bit of coffee and am on my way...

I grab my "lickin' stick" and the cold steel and wood welcomes my hands, as me and it have become close friends. I make sure it's loaded, check the safety, and then make my way out the door.

I'm greeted with a cool breeze, and the smell of fresh air. This is what has keep my going since last year. I make my through the woods, and the cold dew wakes my hands up as I move a branch out of my way. (Dew, Gods way of providing fresh water for all the small forest animals.) My foot cracks a branch as I weave my way in and out of the tangles so I stop and listen for the sound of a spooked deer; all is silent, so I proceed on. I make it to my spot, and take a close look around. It's just getting daylight, so I settle in for the morning's hunt.

All the woodland creatures welcome the reddish-orange sunrise. They scurry about looking for breakfast, chasing each other and having fun, while the sun breaks the black sea with it's pink streaks of light. I only wish I had that much energy this early in the morning. I quietly smile as I watch a squirrel basque in the early morning rays.

Off in the distance, a lonely gunshot rings out. The first one of the season, that lucky son of a gun. I wonder if he connected? I'll probably never know. Then it rings out again and then once more. I rule it out as a miss. I've made up my mind, One shot is a kill, two shots maybe and three shots a miss... It may not be true, but that's the way I like to look at it.

What was that?

I ease my head around, and catch a young rabbit bouncing along the creek bottom. Did something spook it? Or is it just playing? I watch it, until it evades my sight, and I snuggle up against the tree to get comfy again. The sun is making its way up into the sky, and its beams find my legs. It's warm, I only wish the long johns worked that way.

As I'm soaking up the suns warmth, I ponder what I would do if that big buck of a lifetime were to step out and offer me a shot. My dreams are put on hold as my attention is drawn to something behind me. I move my eyes, and then slowly my head. I catch a spike making his way down wind and to the right of me. I push my self around, and raise my rifle, when he clears the two little oak saplings, he's mine. The spike stops, looks around, and checks the wind. All appears normal, so he moves forward. His front left leg passes the clearing, and then his right leg. He stops. It's now or never I decide, so I shoulder my rifle, ease the safety off, find the young bucks shoulder in the crosshairs. I take a deep breathe and after letting half of it out, I slowly…ease my finger onto the trigger and whisper to myself "POW"! I ease the safety back on, and think to myself...

It's only opening day, why end it so soon?