We went to the cabin on the first day (Monday), even though we haven’t seen deer in the mountains for years. Like zero. Ever since the year when they had doe season begin on the same day as buck season. It was a slaughter the area hasn’t recovered from. It went on for too many years, and though this year moves doe season to the first Saturday, almost a week later, deer are still scarce in the mountains.

But we’re going back on Saturday because it’s a familiar place, and because there’s always hope. What does it mean to be in a familiar place? It means that you refer to all the spots used by family members, even if they haven’t been there for years. Like Bob’s rock or Don’s tree. It means that you know which ways the deer traveled in the past, and you still look in those directions. It means that you can tell someone where to meet you in shorthand and explain what you saw just as easily.

Actually, I saw a buck on the first day, the first deer I’ve seen  up there in years, but it was only a spike, which is not legal because of antler restrictions. Still, it was my thrill of the day.

At least, on Saturday, I should get more pics like these:

Where I saw the spike