As we walked toward the deer, I realized that I hadn't made a good choice about what shoes to wear while hunting. My boots that were waterproof the last time I went hunting were not this time. I could feel my shoes absorbing water from the melting snow. My socks were damp and my toes were cold. I trudged on despite the circumstances, often complaining, not of my cold feet, but of not having had a chance to shoot the deer, I called. Curtis says he didn't hear me call the deer. It was dusk when we arrived at the deer. Quickly, we gutted the deer in the field to make it lighter to transport on the truck. The coyotes started howling around this time, which made me nervous. For some reason, coyote howling has always scared me. Supposedly they are more afraid of humans than humans are of them, I'm not sure. Curtis decided to return to the truck and go around one of the gates, to avoid carrying the deer for quite a while. I stayed with the deer while he chased the truck. The screams got louder the longer he stayed away. My hair was standing on end and at one point I started breaking into a cold sweat. The smell of fresh meat filled the air and the temperature had dropped even lower, as the sun was starting to dip below the treeline. The steam from the deer's body heat drifted away like mist from the body