Up at 4 AM. After breakfast, we proceeded to our chosen positions. It was dark, overcast and the area was covered by a thick ground fog created by the clash of cold air and relatively warm ground water. The sought after giant Shawano buck obviously elected to stay where visibility was minimal and travel treacherous-in the depths of the marsh. After a short deliberation, I decided to move a ways into the marsh and find a suitable clear area where Mr. Buck could be intercepted should he elect to move, and move he most assuredly would, it being the height of the rut and the ladies would be on the move.
After stepping only a few yards out of the clearing, the surroundings changed from dark and barely discernible to feeling my way a step at a time. The marsh had evidently been used for livestock grazing perhaps fifty years before, and remnants of an old barbed wire fence marked ancient boundaries. Luckily, this provided a guide, at least north and south, to aid me in my penetration into the midst of the swamp. So I proceeded on my journey into the depths, in retrospect now realizing that my total "journey" may have been only 150 yards.
After feeling my way along the fence line for a short while, I suddenly had a feeling that I was not alone. Visibility was near zero, the ground fog was quite thick, but either a sound or movement had alerted me that something or someone was near.
Could it be a trespasser? Who would be crazy enough to be in this swamp? A member of our party? We pretty well knew where each guy hunted, so that was not probable. The thought of a challenge was immediately dismissed, for it could alert the much sought after BIG BUCK. So, I proceeded with the only alternative, to keep on creeping the fence line. After all, I had the security of my old and faithful Simson & Co 1916 8MM Mauser, loaded with 196 grain soft points, which were capable of handling even the abominable snowman, if confronted.
Next: The morning progresses
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