I’ll never forget my first morning deer hunting on public land near my childhood home in southern Wisconsin, a state with more than 600,000 deer hunters. For nine days a year, the state could field the world’s seventh largest army. Since hunters are required to wear blaze orange during the gun deer season, come November the Wisconsin woods and fields take on the look of a never-ending pumpkin patch—a loud one at that.
As I sat in a makeshift stand consisting of a board wedged between two branches about 15 feet off the ground, dawn brought a nearly steady barrage of rifle reports on the order
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