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Full Hearts and Full Coolers

    With Fall in full swing, my mind keeps drifting back to deer camp. Every year for the week after Thanksgiving, I join my dad and a handful of our friends in Central Pennsylvania to hunt white-tailed deer. Last year, I killed a nice one, and cooked some memorable meals from it around a fire in the woods. Here is the story of my trip...     ...There wasn't much time to weigh my options. A group of five deer had charged into valley I was looking down into, and two of them were large-bodied bucks. They slowed to a trot as they approached my treestand and then split up, one buck and two doe went up the hill to my right, and the other buck and doe went up the hill to my left.  I raised my rifle and swung left, finding the buck's front shoulder in the scope.      "Braaappp!" I'd seen countless hunting TV shows where the hunter makes this vocalization meant to mimic a buck grunt, in hopes that the animal will stop moving just long enough for a clean shot. This was the

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