Tearing Up the Brush

Tearing Up the Brush
By Kenneth R. Adamson

There were a thousand thoughts zipping through my mind as I crouched in my makeshift blind, straining to hear a hint of sound that would let me know that I was not all alone here in the woods. Thoughts such as, did I blow it? Did the wind spook the bull? Should I just pack up and leave quietly and return tomorrow? Should I have tried stalking the noises I had heard? Will I hit a branch if I get a shot? Is this hunt going to be one of those that end up as a good story, but no meat?

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