A photographic journal.
by Denver Bryan
From the February/March 2009 issue
We’d glimpsed the big buck in the summer, briefly materializing from the
cottonwoods along the
As autumn progressed we’d seen his tracks, his scrapes. And then one morning there he was, just
as the sun split the horizon.
In that biologically charged window between autumn and winter, even
the biggest and smartest
bucks get a little stupid. You can’t eat antlers, they
say. But they’re indefinably satisfying
nonetheless, and not just as handles for dragging home meat.