CAMPFIRE CHAT
When I was a teenager I read James Fenimore Cooper's classic novel Deerslayer. In it the Indians had such respect for the hero as a hunter, and if I recall correctly an Indian fighter, that they called him Deerslayer. Of course as is often the case I dreamed about it, and in the dream I was just the opposite of Deerslayer. I shot with rubber tipped arrows and was so inept in the woods that they called me Thunder in the Brush. I awoke from the dream laughing out loud and have always chuckled when telling the story of such an original dream. However, many times while photographing whitetail deer, I have referred to myself as Thunder in the Brush and this was one of those occasions. I had been busted by him earlier. He had been so close that I just knew I had one of the closest shots I had ever gotten of a larger buck. The light changed and when he walked out I had to make an adjustment on the camera. When I looked up the deer had caught the movement and was frozen, looking directly at me. I froze also, but it was too late. He turned his back and walked away from me into the woods. This same deer, that seemed to be the same buck but looked smaller than before, came in again. Once again this buck catches Thunder in the Brush. I am fit to be tied by this time and was about to call it a week. Though not a great week in the woods I was able to take some of my best photographs up until this time. You can see them if you Click Here. Just another week in the life of a wildlife photographer.
