equinox vest

Trudging through the thick woods of Alabama, snagging my vest on hip-height branches and brambles, my box call chattering away with each step, I thought to myself, “there has to be a better way.” That and: “This is why I am a whitetail deer hunter.” Further, once I got back to camp, I discovered that in the absence of a dead bird, I did bring home another species, ticks. Joy. I needed a drink—and tweezers.