A daughter named 'Quigley'
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
I’ve had some pretty good deer hunting stories to tell in years past. There was the year my oldest son shot a deer with a bow just before sunset and then needed help tracking in dense fog so thick a fellow could get lost in familiar territory. We took two flashlights and followed the trail until the first light died. Not wanting to spend the night afield, we decided to use the second flashlight to make our way back to the car and still came out a considerable distance off course. We returned and found the deer as soon as the fog lifted. I took a nice whitetail buck one season with unbelievable marksmanship, a shot under the left eye with a 30-30 and at least 150 yards. Of course, I won’t tell you at what part of the deer I was aiming. But my last year of hunting was the best. My then-17-year-old daughter decided to take up deer hunting for her senior project at school — a little more surprising than her twin sister’s choice of crocheting. Having never hunted before, she had to study and pass a hunter safety c
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Opinion, Pages 6 on 10/18/2011