I came real close on his last visit, but he slipped behind me and got my wind. I decided to rest the field the next night, and from a stand on the opposite side of the farm, maybe a half hour before last light, I heard somebody shooting up the field with what sounded like a .22. I don't know if he was after squirrels or tin cans or, God forbid, deer, but after that, the 10-pointer and every other deer I'd been seeing stopped showing up in the field.
I scouted the nearby woods, but they were pretty much devoid of buck sign--until, after several days, a scrape opened up. So I went home and dusted off one of my trail cameras.