This year’s gun deer season did not disappoint.

It was especially exciting because we had a target buck on our radar: an 8-point whitetail with a broken brow tine that had been showing up in our food plot. After missing my 240-yard shot on Thanksgiving afternoon, I was pretty sure I had blown my one big chance. I was bummed.

But on the very last day of the season, he came back! Same spot. Same shot. And this time, I did not miss.

Before the season even started, Dad and I put in some work—fixing the broken blind window and trimming shooting lanes so we could actually see the food plot. Preparation matters. Also, luck helps.

Dad likes to call me the “Trigger Man” because I mostly sit there sleeping or scrolling on my phone until he says, “There’s a deer,” and then suddenly I’m locked in and ready to go. Honestly? Sweet deal.

After the shot, we field dressed the deer, which is how I learned that yes, it is possible to get guts in your mouth, and no, I do not recommend it.

When we weren’t hunting, cabin life was full of delicious food, euchre, checkers, and just enough trash talk to keep things competitive.

All in all, it was an unforgettable season—one target buck, one second chance, and one trigger man who came through when it mattered most.

It’s the thrill of the hunt—minus the blaze orange… the only way we can get Mom and Genesee into the woods. Those girls love a good Christmas tree! Well, Genesee might be in it more for the Perkins hot chocolate, but it’s still a treasured tradition.

Last night, my sister had a sleepover with Boston and Harmony. For reasons still unclear, this meant our house transformed into a non-stop laugh factory, luxury spa, and a dance recording studio.

There was music. There was giggling. There were sudden bursts of screaming. It was…. a vibe, I guess? Apparently, girls do weird things at their sleepovers.

Luckily, I spent most of my time hunting in the woods, which may have saved me. Out there, it was quiet. Peaceful. Predictable. The deer did not scream. The trees did not giggle. And Dad and I didn’t have to play Truth or Dare.

In the end, I survived the sleepover mostly unscathed—thanks to the woods, which remain my safe haven, my fortress of solitude, my personal princess-free kingdom where sanity reigns supreme.

Welp, I missed Halloween this year, but guess what I didn’t miss—my shot at a 10-point mule deer! (Technically a 4×4 with brow tines, if you’re keeping score.) And that’s why they call Montana The Treasure State! (I should confess: I did miss an earlier mule deer from 600 yards away, but so does everyone, right?) Dad and I hunted with Uncle Cory every day, racking up over 250 miles on the four-wheeler—basically the same as driving to Chicago! We used intercom headsets to solve the world’s problems during our rides, and for the second year in a row, I was the unpaid Uber driver, so I made my passenger (Dad) open all the gates as a fair trade.

It was another great trip, except for that part where I left my winter gloves in Wisconsin, and Cory forgot his gun clip behind, too. You know, just the minor details. Nothing our sharing-is-caring philosophy couldn’t fix. We still made the best of it, and one of my favorite parts was the public service we provided to keep the prairie dog population in check. You’re welcome, Montana. Of course, my not-favorite part was the 30 mph sustained winds with 50 mph gusts. And I sort of regret not getting to wear a scary costume, but who needs to go trick-or-treating anyway!? Between watching the Packers win, catching the World Series, dominating at Euchre with my main man Cory, tossing the football, splashing in the creek, and eating like kings (thanks, Grandma & Grandpa!), the life of a hunter is pretty sweet!! I mean, hard. Very, very hard. It’s basically like The Oregon Trail, only we’re trying to gather pounds of meat to sustain our party instead of dodging dysentery. It’s all about survival and strategy. And apparently Cory’s strategy was to wait until the very last day to decide whether his family would eat this winter… talk about stressful!

Spoiler alert: They, too, will survive.

In the end, we’ll call it a success! Including my homework, which I finished on the drive home. (Emphasis on “in the end” because I do my best work at the very last minute.) And even though I had a blast in the Montana mountains, there really is no place like home. So, once these kings returned to their queens, I did zoomies with Artemis, I John Cena’d mom onto the bed, and I gave a heartfelt high-five to Genesee because I know those ladies missed us terribly and had absolutely no fun while we were gone.

[Pictures of the poor ladies, sitting around missing us… not having fun:]