This eight (seven, six? – I never can work out what counts and what doesn’t) -pointer was comfortably grazing below my studio window in Stone Ridge last week as the crack of rifles could be heard not far away in the woods – rifle season is in full swing much to the delight of the NRA. Not that I am against hunting as such, but it is infuriating that it is impossible to get fresh venison anywhere here in New York, unlike in the New Forest when we lived in England. Mmmm! now you are beginning to look quite tasty. Anyway, as we are not going to get to eat you, and as you have been cunning enough to make it this far, we will be very happy if you get away. Hope to see you as a ten-pointer next year.