I guess I'd want to be in a hunt camp with a few longtime friends. A good firepit, with a couple of cooks who knew how to make good camp coffee and use an open fire. On a ranch somewhere with decent deer, but not some highfalutin fancypants penraised stuff.
We'd all have enough time to get to know the country, and the likely hangouts of some decent bucks. We'd be able to get out at night and chouse around, call a coyote or two. Hunt some quail during the day.
Maybe even kill a good buck. More important, help my kid or somebody else's kid get a good buck.
Sit around the campfire, re-telling the same old funny stories from decades gone by, about people that have been dead for years.
Then? Hey, like Florence King says, your obituary oughta include words like "sudden" and "massive".
Art