Day 13 — The existential philosophers advocated living without hope to avoid disappointment. I hadn’t realized until today Camus and Nietzsche were deer hunters.

Oh, I saw deer, battalions of deer, in fact, almost a plague of deer. Unfortunately, they also saw or heard me long before a shot could be taken due to the tag-you’re-it distances encountered in the incredibly thick undergrowth of this new area. Seeing deer and not having a shot is aggravating the first couple of times, but after another half-dozen missed opportunities — all ending in loud snorts and flagging deer butts — frustration gnaws at your gut like an angry ferret. I hate ferrets. I’m also beginning to hate deer; and geese, for good measure.
Day 14 — The entry for this day is smeared and unreadable due to what appear to be tear stains.

Epilogue — Honestly, this column was actually written on the eve of Closing Day. Therefore, it is quite possible I will be a very happy camper by the time you read these words, having overcome adversity to feel the self-satisfied glow of success achieved after a long, hard journey.
Oh, who am I kidding? And, just for the record, I deny any knowledge of a tree-dwelling rodent named Claude.

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