It’s Opening Day Eve. My clothes have been washed in scent-free detergent and hung outside to dry, and the pretty smelling shampoo, conditioner and soap have been pushed aside for unscented products. My rifle is sighted in. I have my fluorescent orange out, my boots are on the heater, and I know what I’m having for breakfast before I leave. The coffee pot is set to turn itself on. There are no signs of the rut starting yet, and bucks aren’t showing up on my game cam. There are doe and fawn tracks in the area; there has to be a buck out there somewhere. A beautiful autumn day hunting in Maine, regardless of the likelihood of tagging out, is hard to beat.
Be safe, folks. Make sure you know your target. My husband was shot in a hunting incident years ago. I’m fortunate that it wasn’t more serious, and that I eventually met and married him. It’s worth the extra time it takes to be sure of what you see, what’s behind it and what’s going on around you. Better safe than sorry.
If you see me hanging out at a tagging station (between Lincoln and Topsfield), say hi and tell me your story so we can share it with everyone here.