The stars were fading as Fred surveyed the terrain ahead of him; he was close now and covering the last hundred yards of his mile trek into the blind demanded critical stealth. There would be deer within hearing distance and to spook them unseen on this, the next to the last day of his hunt could be the difference between filling his tag and going home empty handed. For the fifth morning in a row Fred entered the nylon dome hut and settled in for his watch.

This was the sixth consecutive season that he and his fellow New Hampshire hunting partners had booked with Bald Hill Outfitters in eastern Saskatchewan. The week had started out clear and sunny, daytime temps rising into the teens before the sun ebbed over and the mercury began its late afternoon free fall. There was 5 inches of snow on the ground and they had been seeing deer around the baits. Stevie and Jim had already scored and in fact, Fred had let a huge eight point pass on the second day.

Everything had changed mid week. The wind kicked up Wednesday afternoon and the temperature had dropped well below zero where it had remained for the past 36 hours. With this change, deer activity had become non-existent. Fred had not seen a deer from this stand in two days. Worse yet, it was very cold, 15 below zero Fahrenheit. Time passed uneventfully and at 11:00 Fred headed out to the predetermined rendezvous spot where they were to meet for lunch.

Steve sat in the truck and after a brief conversation brought Fred up to speed on the events of the morning They had seen deer while re-baiting and Scott had shot a good buck from his stand that he and the guide were now in the process of retrieving. As glad as Fred was to hear of his friend's success, he was well aware that he alone remained with a tag to fill.

He stood in the cold rather than eating in the warm truck, concerned about re-acclimating to the sub-zero temperatures. At one o'clock, he headed for the ladder stand that had produced Steve's buck earlier in the week. The half hour walk was less than pleasant, as the wind seemed to follow him, blowing down his back in 20 to 30 mph gusts. Fred made his way up the ladder and settled into the cold metal stand. He was 16 feet up, suspended in the frigid air. The stand blew so from side to side he wondered how it would be possible to shoot should the opportunity arise.

Fred stared out at the does that had just come into the bait. He tried to concentrate on the deer but he was increasingly distracted by the tingling sensation developing on the side of his face taking the brunt of the wind. His hands, inside the muff on his lap felt soft and nearly numb. His pack contained a balaclava, a fleece head covering that he had bought in advance of a previous Saskatchewan hunt and had never worn. He needed to get it out and get it on or his face would freeze. He was also pretty sure he had one more packet of hand warmers. To stand and dig through his pack would surely spook the deer but to remain seated and motionless was beginning to feel dangerous.

He stood, turning around on the platform and removing his gloves. He opened the top of the pack aware that the exposed skin on his hands was an unnatural pale color. He located the hand warmers and balaclava pulling the latter over his head and securing the warm fleece high up on the bridge of his nose. With his gloves still removed he held a heat packet in each palm and shoved his hands back into his muff. He was now marginally warmer but wondered what it was worth with the deer gone and daylight fading

A little after four o'clock a group of does made their way down the trail toward the bait. They cautiously crossed out into the open and started to feed on the hay. Fred came to attention as the largest deer unexpectedly bounded 40 yards off to the left the other deer in tow. A young moose moved into feed. It hung around the bait awhile then ambled back into the woods allowing the does to resume feeding. Soon the cold was again starting to eat away at Fred's concentration but he was brought instantly to full alert when suddenly all four deer snapped their heads up and stared, on guard, in the direction of the trail. Out of the corner of his eye, Fred caught the sight of antlers.

The buck was moving through the willows parallel to the trail. At one point 40 yards out the heavy horned stallion had raised its nose and with curled lips tested the air for the must that would identify one or more of the deer on the bait as breeding candidates. Fred's naked hands now gripped his rifle trying to steady it on the tree-stand's gun rest. The scope's crosshairs drew down on the animal's broad chest as his finger simultaneously squeezed the trigger. The dull thud of a frozen action replaced the anticipated bark of the rifle's report. The buck pinpointed the hunter's location and retreated to cover. Fred had meticulously dried the spring mechanism in his bolt the night before, foreseeing the potential for malfunction in the extreme cold. Operating on autopilot, he raised and then lowered the bolt re-cocking the rifle while he kept bead on the buck slinking around to his left. Again the crosshairs found the animal and again the impact of the firing pin failed to ignite the primer. Farther away the buck was less aware of this second attempt but for Fred, things were starting to come unglued.

"Broken firing pin? Dead round? Bad dream? "

Attempting to stay focused, he again re-cocked. With the big nine point now circling back toward the does. The buck broke from cover 70 yards out heading boldly into the open. Fred readied with no expectation that this attempt would be different than the previous two. The rifle roared like a cannon shattering the night's frigid silence. On the bullet's impact the buck bolted 40 yards and dropped.
The woods fell silent.

Collecting himself Fred stood over the lifeless form. He was light-headed, numb. For the moment his fingers and toes did not exist. He was exhausted. Drained of all his energy. His eyes watered from the bite of the arctic wind. Silently he prayed in thankfulness, wishing the magnificent animal at his feet a safe journey as it crossed over to the other side.