turned it toward the deer. i whispered, "clay, you're not filming the deer."
he whispered back, "i can't move -- i'm afraid."
i told him that the doe was close on his left side. he whispered that he was afraid that she would see him if he moved and that he was going to wait and film mountain mike when the buck got closer. i looked around the side of the ridge; i could see the old buck approaching at a fast walk. i knew i could not give him a chance to see or sense us.
"you better start filming him," i whispered. "i'm going to have to kill him quick."
it's my 