I shot this button buck Saturday night while sitting at the base of a giant oak tree. Three does came out of the cedars earlier that evening, but they were about 155 yards away and moving at a pretty good clip. Then this young deer came out, and when he finally moved out from behind a couple trees in front of me, he stopped quartering toward me and gave me a shot at about 75 yards. I don’t prefer to hunt with a muzzleloader, but the December season seems to be about the only time I get the opportunity to hunt deer. The shot rang and after a moment of blindness, the smoke cleared. I saw the deer bolt about 50 yards to my right. I thought I’d missed him, but as he approached a couple lone cedar trees in the open, he made a sharp, confused U-turn, and then crashed down into the dry creek bed to the north. I almost expected him to get up and continue running over the hill, or slip away down the dry bed. Trembling, I reloaded my gun. If he was there, I needed to give him time to die without the shock of my presence. But I couldn’t wait too long. It was getting dark, and I am not an experienced tracker. Finally, I worked up the nerve to walk up. I looked up and down the dry creek bed, but saw nothing. Then I walked toward the cedar trees, and there he was, lying at the edge of the dry bank. As I watched the last bit of life leave his eyes, I gave out a cathartic sob, the tension of the last few minutes releasing like the valve on a pressure cooker. Then I wiped my face, got myself together and called my friend and colleague at the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission Cassidy, who was already making her way toward me. Cassidy made an offering of water as “last drink,” because there was no sage nearby to place into his mouth. She spoke words of grace and gratitude over the fallen animal — I’ve always admired my friend’s way with words. My bullet tore up his liver, which caused massive bleeding and a quick death. Cassidy and I dragged the deer to the truck in the dark. Back at the cabin, I seared his tenderloins in a hot pan and made a quick pan sauce of balsamic vinegar and jelly that I found in the kitchen. We enjoyed our celebratory deer camp meal with wild watercress soup, which I picked while scouting that morning.