Soon, I was no longer hiking, I was instead, rock climbing. Strapping my bow onto the back of my pack, I continued upward. Now, my heart was beating wildly not from the physical exertion, but from the sheer terror of my surroundings. I was going from one hand and foot hold, slowly to the next. One slip and I was dead. Sliding around the hill slowly around the mountain, I neared the top. With the top within sight, I dead-ended myself at a sheer rock face. I was not going to be able to get over the top, period. Slowly, and very precariously, I attempted to make my way back around the mountainside in the direction I'd come. I was still above the timberline, and now, the sun had set and darkness was at hand.

Red had become strangely quiet of late, so I glanced over at my right shoulder only to find him smiling smugly, clearly proud of the situation that he'd coerced me into. Quickly glancing to my left, I found Whitey much more pale than usual, and speechless. His "I told you so" look carried more than enough meaning. Gathering himself, Whitey suggested that I quickly attempt to find a flat spot upon which to sleep, before darkness completely engulfed us. Not even giving Red a chance for rebuttal, I eagerly followed Whitey's advice.

Spending that night on a four- by eight-foot piece of sloping, rough ground, with a 45-degree slope below you, certainly turned out to be an experience I'll never forget. Sleeping very little, I harangued Red all night, while at the same time, vowing to give Whitey much more credence in the future. And I did just that until time smoothed-over the pain and fear of that night. Soon I was entertaining Red again.

Whitetail Misadventures
It was late-January, time to do next years scouting and tree trimming around perennial tree stand sites. Red, Whitey and I were on a mission to accomplish some much needed trimming of shooting lanes around one of my best stand locations. I didn't have anyone helping me with the physical work at hand, though I had plenty of mental help from my little buddies.

Whitey had been rather quiet on this particular day, lending to the fact that I hadn't been doing much of anything that was dangerous, dumb and/or illegal. Red, of course, was up to his usual no-good antics, trying to get me involved in something that might cover all of the above. He'd mentioned to me that I knew that a huge buck was living on the adjoining property (one I didn't have permission to hunt on), and he'd pointed out how I really needed to scout that area because there was surely a place over there where I could bow kill that huge buck. He also pointed out that no one else was hunting over there, and that the old farmer never went out into the woods on that section of his property anyway. Red was certain that hunting over there was okay. With my recent mountain experience still fresh in my mind, I decided to ignore Red even though one side of me found great appeal in his notions.

Unable to get me across the fence, Red embarked on another mission. He pointed out the fact that a particular limb, on a particular tree, was directly in the way of one of the shooting lanes around my nearby tree stand. He pointed out that I could climb the tree, slither out on a big limb directly above the target limb, and reach down and remove the limb. In a flash, I was up the tree.