I slid across the lake’s surface like a skater on ice, the bow of my canoe slicing smoothly through the waves while diamonds sparkled on the water and shimmered off the antlers at my feet. This was something new. I’d seen flip-flops, fish, and beers in this context, but never antlers. I could get used to it. My friend Parker told me this was the very best part of hunting whitetails by boat. It isn’t seeing a buck emerge from the timber, taking a...