A valley that used to be the old stream bed of the Cimarron River, dotted with cedar trees, plum thickets and cottonwoods, I hunted the Sandhills overlooking the those bottoms as a kid. Like ghosts or air passing thru screen, deer traverse the landscape with movement less labored than man. I have watched many sunrises and observed motion after, before and during the sun’s decent beneath the western horizon. The same sun I watched rise as a kid rose again and shortly after this buck appeared between cedar, I observed his age by body size and form and decided he had experienced his last sun rise. I took his body home but left the spirit out there in the valley. Typical mature NW Oklahoma buck.
![](https://i.ibb.co/cb06QS6/12652273-5491-4-A5-B-8121-01-F0780-AA221.jpg)
![](https://i.ibb.co/cb06QS6/12652273-5491-4-A5-B-8121-01-F0780-AA221.jpg)