Ohhhh the great tradition of deer hunting. You can just feel the excitement build upon the first few days of November in the anticipation of the first weekend of rifle season. You begin to see more and more orange coats and hats being adorned by outdoorsmen across the state.
Fridges and cupboards are stocked with all kind of on-the-stand goodies to help keep the avid hunter nourished and sharp. Lights are out earlier than normal on Friday and coffee is prepared before the rays of the sun have brushed the morning sky. Hunters wait anxiously to hear the crack of the first shot. The season has begun. 
Their eyes search the seas of brown grass for an animal who's coat has undergone centuries of evolution to mimic the weed's golden hues perfectly. The human tries to out-listen an animal who's ears are 100 times more sensitive; with its nose acting as it's main defense, man has little hope in concealing himself for long. But yet he tries. Morning and night he huddles to his steaming coffee mug and searches land for the graceful and silent animal. This is hunting.It is not simply a tradition. It is an honor.
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