I wasn't even talking about regs... , buck limits, or passing up bucks... I was thinking about the days my dad would build me a wooden stand or sit me on the side of the logging road waiting for the deer/dogs to come by...... These were the days when life was simple, not a worry in the world.... Didn't worry about scent control, having the newest weapon on the market, or like you mentioned passing on bucks....

I'm only going to mention this since you brought it up and changed the subject......

P.S. You might be a little surprised on how many buck I have passed on..... Just because I choice to pass on bucks doesn't mean that "I" should push for regs or limit that would effect other hunters that might not have the same goals... I believe in letting the experts make does decision and I'll just continue to hunt..... THAT'S PRETTY SIMPLE.....

We have a lot more in common then you think.... We still need to get a pack of dogs and run deer in TN.....

I am 36 years old, and live in Hardeman County, where quantity of deer overweighs quality. I am guilty of getting caught up in the "Mr Big" game and sometimes wish I could rewind 25 years. It all started for me as a boy without a daddy but I was fortunate enough to have a grandfather (Papaw) who never hesitated to take me hunting. I can remember going to the local lumber yard and digging through .89 cent studs to find enough straight ones to build an 8 foot stand. We would go out and set it up, almost always on a field edge, and I would be a nervous wreck watching him tie it off with a rope, dredding climbing it for the first time. You would have thought I was climbing 30' with climbing sticks! All of this done just a few days before the night of "no sleep", awaiting opening morning. As we would drive through the parade of campers entering Bolivar early in the morning, butterflies would turn to buzzards in my gut, partial anxiety of the hunt to come, but mostly dredding that looooong 8 foot climb to what I considered at the time to be the top of the world. I would go for several trips and see tons of does, trying my best to put antlers on a head. When the time came to lay eyes on a legal buck, it was almost unreal. When the rare occasion came that I did kill a spike or 4 point, I can remember that ride to Websters Sporting Goods. It was the longest ride! I couldnt wait to get there to show of my monster. They would always come out and take a picture with an instant camera and put it on the board. Papaw was always so proud!
Now I am still fortunate enough to hunt the 300+ acres of prime land on the Hardeman/Haywood line, same farm most of those memories were made. I now find myself hanging cameras, using bought stands, scents, calls, and passing on tons of bucks every year. More than I should, I sometimes catch myself whining because I cant get a glimpse of a certain big buck that I captured on camera. The one thing that always brings me back to reality, is when I walk by what is left of a few rotten boards at the base of a tree and remember that long 8' climb to the top of the world.
I now have a little boy that just turned 5, and I hope some of those rotten boards will stick around just a few more years, so one day soon I can show these to him on the way to the top of his world, and tell him that "those were the days".