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Walking out that last evening, I reflected on this hunt and the hunting I'd been doing since August.
It was all so different and yet each type of hunting had been satisfying in it's own wonderful way.
The physical nature of mountain hunting and the wild strikingly beautiful vistas that awaited beyond each ridge.
The brooding stillness of south Georgia swamps, foreboding and mysterious in their vastness.
The hills of home ablaze in fall colors, reds, orange and greens splashed against a canvas of cornfield yellow.
Now to finish in country so much like home but in it's own way different. To set in classic ambushes near rubs and scrapes of huge proportion. To eat, drink and sleep deer hunting with brothers of the bow. A merrier band of men you'd be hard pressed to find.
It was hard leaving what had become a second home there with Chad and his family. It was tough to just turn off the hunting switch and head down the road.
I'd hunt more in Missouri, you can count on that, but it will be much more sedate now. I'll sleep in more often and keep a more casual pace.
We'll see how the rest of the year goes down, but from my perspective it's all gonna be gravy.
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