—Spirit of the outdoors—
‘Twas the night before Christmas when out in the woods, The stately Whitetail buck calmly stood.
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
And the buck stayed a long ways away from a house.
Hunters were hiding up there in their blind, Dreaming of getting a shot yet, but only in their mind.
The buck turned and looked, saw the hunters and booked.
And they cried as they watched the fine buck slip awa…