It was a dreary evening in early fall. The clouds hung low, and sunset was less than an hour away.

My goal had been to photograph, or attempt to photograph, the whitetail deer of central Minnesota. Earlier in the day I had scouted a ridge with a stand of mature red oaks. There had been a bumper crop of acorns, and now the nuts were scattered on the ground among the leaf litter, providing tempting fare for hungry deer and other wildlife.

With the wind direction in mind, I tossed together a rough blind using dead branches on the downwind side of the oak ridge. I mounted my camera on a tripod and began my vigil. I was dressed in camouflage clothing from head to toe, including a facemask. Even though my hideout was crude, I was confident I would go undetected by any approaching deer as long they remained upwind.

For the first half-hour I saw nothing more than a few gray squirrels who were busy finding, eating and caching acorns for the long winter ahead.

As the sky grew grayer, a light rain began to fall. I always carry several large plastic garbage bags so I can protect my camera and lens from unexpected moisture. Once my equipment was safely covered, I looked up to find there was zero chance of getting any good images of deer. It was simply too dark.

I slung my tripod, camera and lens over my shoulder and headed for my truck. Along the way, I startled a raccoon. Like the squirrels I'd seen earlier, it was consuming the abundant acorns. The raccoon ran to a nearby oak tree and disappeared behind the thick trunk.

I saw that the trunk split into a large Y about 10 feet up from the ground. Knowing raccoons can be curious critters, I quickly spread the legs of my tripod and aimed my camera toward the fork in the tree. Sure enough, within moments, the inquisitive masked bandit couldn't resist taking a peak at the camouflage blob that had frightened it.

But, in the poor light, a good image proved impossible without the use of a flash. The raccoon apparently figured it was safe in its lofty perch. It watched as I took off my backpack and affixed a flash to my camera. I even took the time to make the adjustments necessary to balance the ambient light with a touch of flash to highlight the raccoon's eyes, adding a little spark to what otherwise would have been a drab image. Photographers call this technique "fill flash."

It worked. The image gets oohs and awes whenever anyone sees it.

In truth, I was a bit disappointed when no deer showed up that day. On the upside, I had packed all the proper equipment and knew exactly how to use it, so the outing ended with this attractive image of a raccoon.

Bill Marchel, an outdoors writer and photographer, lives near Brainerd.