I got to my stand at 12:30 on a saturday afternoon. The weather was hot and humid, and I was exhausted from a football game the night before. But I wasn't about to go home. The sky was a pleasant blue, the sunlight glittered on a clear little stream nearby, and I had my first-ever bear tag. It was September, my senior year of high school, and this was my only chance at a bear for what was likely my last hunting season in northern Wisconsin for a long time.