I got to the tree I planned to climb and realized it was a dying ash. I stood there looking at the other trees nearby and movement caught my eye from just inside the swamp. Then orange.
"Shit, this guy is bird hunting where the deer I'm hunting are bedded."
He worked his way away from me to the south before popping out into the field with a telescoping pruning saw and and an empty 5-gallon bucket.
I stood there with my stand on my back, my bow in my left hand, and waved hello with my right. He waved back as he walked back towards his truck. I turned away and walked farther north than I've ever been on this property, hoping to find fresh sign. I found some great looking spots that I would likely have to myself, but not the sign I was looking for so I turned back around towards the corner. It was a good thing I got there early.
There really wasn't a good tree to climb, they were either full of limbs, dead, or too big around. I picked the smallest and barely got my climber on at the right angle. If it was another inch bigger in diameter, I would have been hunting from the ground.
The three does came out, one by one, at 6:43. Except they weren't three does. It was a doe with two yearlings. I could have shot any of them, but for some reason, I didn't. Maybe cause my freezer already has fresh venison in it, or maybe cause I'm just looking for something to regret in January.