To be a successful deer hunter you should be out at your stand well before this moment. Of course defining "success" is a subjective matter; hunting deer and shooting deer are not necessarily synonymous. (That of course is pure B.S.; anyone telling you so is just a poor hunter.)
The pups enjoy hunting smaller game. A chipmunk under a snow covered rockpile enjoys decided advantages, but the dogs dig and snuff with enthusiasm that would put many a discouraged deer hunter to shame.
Fortunately, David potted a nice spikehorn and saved the family from ignominy of having three hunting licenses and no venison. Johnny and I continue to hunt, but now the pressure is off. If either of us gets another deer, hunting season will officially end, for the freezer will have reached its capacity.
Deer aren't the only animals that go into rut in November. We have had to keep our ewes separate from our ram, but now that the snow has come it was time to take down the electric netting and move the ewes into the winter yard.
Sorry Gunnar. He has to endure one more week of isolation before he can begin charming the ladies. He greeted them with tender kisses though, pledges of his ardor and undying affection. They seemed quite interested and happy to be near him again.
Patience lad, your day is coming. Lately Gunnar has shown an aggressive side we didn't see during the summer. He tried to butt Johnny the other day. I've taken the proactive approach and tap his horns with a heavy stick when I've enter his pen just to remind him not to get any foolish ideas. I've also do not turn my back on him. My sore knees are approaching full recovery, but I have no desire to test their durability against a charging ram.