As the frigid winter bites at my skin, I sit in a metal deer stand praying for the magnificent buck to walk by. Dreams begin to flash by in my mind, making me resign into a deep sleep. The bright sun shining in my eyes slowly awakens me, causing my pupils to shrink to the size of an eraser tip. Slowly creeping out of my chair, I look down at the pasture below me. I spot three beautiful bucks grazing in the morning snow. As I slowly ascend the scope to my eye, I see through it two nubs protruding from the bucks’ head. I realize these bucks are illegal to shoot in the area of which I am hunting in, for they are too young. I impetuously grab my phone out of my pack in an attempt to take a photograph for the camp owner. In a couple of years, these bucks will be fully-grown and legal to shoot. I put my phone back into my pack, and climb down the ladder in agony, for my hands are frostbitten. Retreating down to my four-wheeler, I hear loud gunshots within a three hundred mile radius. I hastily crank up the four-wheeler and floor it through the woods. As I near the cabin, I see two silhouettes of bucks hanging from the skinning rack. As I get closer, I realize the two loud bangs I heard earlier were kill shots on humongous bucks. We will skin these bucks, and have fantastic dinner for days to come.