Were you sitting in a deer stand or blind on Sunday?
Like so many other archery season last-hurrahs, I found myself in my ground blind, holding my crossbow and hoping I wouldn’t lose my toes to frostbite.
I had the small Mr. Heater going, and ended up crossing my legs, one by one, so I could slow-roast the bottoms of my oversized Hodgman boots until I could again feel my toes. The rank stench of baking rubber filled my ground blind, but at that point, I didn’t care if my boots started to flame. It had been a long time since I was that cold.
I found out later that Sunday afternoon’s temperatures hovered around 11 or 12 degrees. As the minutes ticked away on my last chances for venison, I realized that even if a deer came in crossbow range, I’d have a horrible time trying to field-dress it in the bitter cold.
I quit a few minutes early, feeling warmer in my toes as I walked slowly to the minivan.