A few years ago, on a cold snowy afternoon in January, during our late flintlock deer season, I happened upon an interesting scene. I was still hunting and came to the edge of the woods where a small overgrown field dropped down toward a small wooded creek bottom. Out in the field, overlooking the creek bottom was an old man in a folding lawn chair. He had hunting clothes on, and was cradling his rifle. An old wool Army blanket was partially wrapped around him. I'd say he had to be in his mid 80's or older, and he seemed to be napping. Four wheeler tracks in the snow showed that he was transported there, and left to his hunting. I'm quite sure no one forced him to be out there, but given the opportunity, he made the effort to get dressed and go and sit for hours in the cold, snow, and wind. I assume his son was probably not far away, and would come to do any gutting or dragging if the old guy happened to shoot a deer.

He never knew I was there, and I slipped back into the woods, changed direction and circled toward the other side of the hollow, hoping I might push a bedded deer toward him. I thought it was really cool that he still wanted to be out there, and if I could choose the time and place where I am when my life comes to an end, it would be doing just as that old guy was doing.