I’ve always said this:
The way I want to die is to be shot by a jealous boyfriend, crushed by an ornery horse, or have a heart attack on a steep ridge while chasing muley’s.
I don’t chase skirts anymore, I hardly ever ride a horse cause it hurts my knees too bad. Still got the fire in my belly to chase deer, and I’m starting to have ticker problems, so I still might get the last one done!! It actually sounds pretty good to me compared to a slow death in bed. The only thing wrong with it, it’s inconsiderate to my hunting partners, who will have to deal with my raggedy ass old corpse.
I actually just love to go out in the woods with friends and family. I like to take a middling size muley buck if the opportunity presents. If not, I’m fine with that too. I think most of us as we get older find our motivations changing for lots of things. Not just hunting.