Monday morning September 11th was warm, unseasonably warm, as I hiked through the knee-deep sagebrush in the dark. The sweat was already soaking through my hat. Temperatures that day were supposed to reach the mid-nineties, but I was determined to get deep into the new country I had scouted the previous month. It was a large tract of public land that was very broken with large canyons filled with cedars and sagebrush. I stopped to take a break from climbing and instantly noticed antlers on the skyline only a couple hundred yards away. It looked to be a nice deer, a heavy-bodied, wide-racked older buck. It was still way too dark to shoot, so I sat in silence waiting for the sun to show its face.