I was leaning my forearms on the top of a tree stand and staring at the side of a buck through the scope on my uncle's rifle when things started to settle in. "Holy crap," I thought. "I'm actually ...

My only job is to remember how many times we turn left. That’s what my dad told me before the hunt. I have his smoothbore 870 Wingmaster slung over my shoulder as I try to keep up. My pack feels heavy ...