Sad news that my son will not be able to leave his work to come up to deer hunt-we were initially planning on him being here two days ago. As a post-doctoral researcher in biochemistry at University of Michigan, his days and hours can be demanding and at times, irregular, based on the status of a project. Next year he hopes to be out of academia and in the private realm of his trade (likely pharmaceutical research), with normal work hours and days. The deer have made themselves scarce during the past month and I feel fortunate to have taken a buck with the bow on 10/2 during the archery season. This morning on the opening day of rifle season, I will hunt with a Marlin 30.30. It will sound like WWIII at the crack of dawn, which promises to be warm and clear. Deer hunting is akin to a religious holiday in the Upper Peninsula. Ironwood Public Schools are closed on Monday...the school calendar lists it as "Deer Day." I have precious memories of our family deer camp (Dick Carter's Birch Hill Lodge) growing up. My father started taking me in the blind with him at age three, and by nine, I was expected to hike in to my own blind, two hours before daylight and stay put till dark. At nine, walking the quarter mile of cedar swamp trail in the pitch black of the early morning, I was always sure a variety of horror movie creatures were behind each tree. Closing the blind door behind me was a huge relief. I was fortunate to drive my father to his last time in a deer blind, then pick him up, one year before his death. He deer hunted avidly for more than 70 of his years.