Thanksgiving is almost here. I can almost smell the steaming potatoes smothered in smooth, turkey flavored gravy. Many great days, in the life of me, have revolved around Thanksgiving. It is a time of celebration, a time of good food and the rut is happening. Ah, the rut. That elusive, wise, whitetail buck who is never so foolish as to show his tawny hide to the world, is suddenly running about the underbrush, willy nilly, seemingly oblivious to anything other than that purdy whitetail doe prancing up ahead. The cold air seems to mess with his head…perhaps he is just so cold that there is not enough blood to his brain and he actually goes slightly crazy. Pretty sure that isn’t right. No matter the science behind the brazen actions, I enjoy going into the woods and actually seeing game moving about in the chilly air. Smoke like clouds swirl up from their nostrils as if they were descendants of the fire breathing dragons of old. Twinkling eyes search the hillsides with a playfulness usually only seen in the eyes of fawns. They come alive. Frost coats their fuzzy whiskers giving them an air of wisdom.  The white on their bodies is not surpassed by the white of the freshly fallen snow. They are beautiful animals every season of the year but in winter the whitetails glisten. I have much to be thankful for this year and not the least of which is the opportunity to watch some whitetails scurry through the holiday in the rut. Happy holidays and happy hunting!