Christmas eve, 2012, I was sitting 15 feet above a forest floor, bow in hand, waiting for whitetail deer to follow the well-used trail that wound its way only 10 yards from my stand. As is always the case, other wildlife kept me entertained while I watched for deer movement. The woods were buzzing with bird life, mostly northern cardinals who sang and flitted in the thickets adjacent to my stand. The birds deserved attention, but a feeding eastern grey squirrel captured my eye. The little mammal showed no fear as he frolicked on branches, sometimes only a few feet from my perch. At one point the curious animal clawed his way up the tree trunk and paused where the strap secured my stand to the tree. After locking eyes with the squirrel, he scampered down to the forest floor and disappeared into a ravine, the dry leaves crunching in the morning stillness under his feet. When he returned, his mouth was not stuffed with oak nuts, but with a mass of oak leaves that he toted up a tree to a lofty height where he added them to a leafy nest. Up to this point in the season, it had been unusually warm and dry, and the squirrel’s behavior had me thinking the snowless, precipitation-free winter might just continue. After all, by the time December rolls around, southern Minnesota squirrel species have all relocated from leafy abodes to hollow tree homes, away from winter’s bitter winds and sub-zero temperatures. Perhaps, I wondered, squirrels remaining in leafy nests may be a natural harbinger of a mild winter. As it turns out, that winter was tropical by Minnesota standards. Admittedly, I love hunting deer in snow, but lounging in a sun-drenched tree stand is awfully comfortable and makes longs stays easy. That morning was ideal, both in terms of non-game wildlife observed and deer seen. Only an hour after climbing aboard the stand, a stout doe eased down the trail, and after a good shot and a short trail, capped my freezer with delicious, lean venison. The perfect beginning to a warm winter.  [full article]