Aside from fleas, flies, ticks, mosquitoes, and the occasional wasp, I have never deliberately killed an animal. Yet this morning at sunrise I sat in the woods, for the second year in a row, waiting to shoot a buck. I am fairly certain this time, given the chance, I will pull that trigger. Last year I wasn't too sure if I would be able to do it, and since I never saw a buck, the question remained unanswered.
I am a meat-eater, however, and Ryan's buck fed us for a year. And it was guaranteed free range, organically fed, and artificial hormone free meat, which is more than I can say for the average anonymous slab of meat one finds in a supermarket nowadays. One must work for it, though, if you call sitting and waiting work.
So far I have seen no signs of animal life save for nuthatches, chickadees, woodpeckers of the downy, hairy, and pileated variety, and one lone blue jay. And there is a mouse that lives behind my stand. I have heard him squeak but he hasn't shown himself yet. The deer are out there, though. I have seen proof. Perhaps tomorrow.