You’re deep into the forest hunting whitetailed deer
sitting in your stand you listen to hear
There’s nothing much moving on this brisk October day
but your patience is strong and so you will stay
Then off in the distance a huge buck does appear
your breathing gets louder as this monarch draws near
Your heartbeat increases at the anticipated shot
then your instincts take over as you pick your spot
You feel the warmth, of the wooden bow in your hand
and it’s at this very moment, you are primitive man
As you loose your arrow, your eyes follow it’s plume
Everything is so quiet it’s like you’re in a vacuum
You watch the arc of your arrow, right to the spot
and you’re thankful that you’ve made a clean killing shot
You’re snapped back to reality as the deer flees the scene
and you begin to wonder “was the shot really clean”?
You’re mind is racing as you sit in your stand
you mark his last sighting and try to think up a plan
They say wait 30 minutes if your deer is to be found
but you can only wait 20 and you climb to the ground
It doesn’t take long as you follow an easy blood trail,
to remove all doubt and to claim your whitetail
You are successful this day, you have taken your deer
and as you kneel beside him you listen to hear
There are mixed emotions as you look to the sky
Then like the hunters before you, you raise your bow high
Once again you have followed, their age old track
for it’s the primitive hunter, that calls you back
24 more days 
