The Lows and Highs
I hate wounding deer. It makes be sick to my stomach. So much practice, stand placement, gear tuning, anticipation, etc and then an opportunity gets blown. Even worse, will the deer die a slow death or will it be OK? Will the meat go to waste? What did I do wrong? My time is so limited will I have another chance to fill my freezer? The questions are endless and the blow to my confidence is tremendous. What I have learned though is that you must remain positive and get back on that horse.
On the second go round the arrow was clearly covered in good blood and left a nice splatter on the dry leaves after a clean pass through.
Archery season had been in for a week and I had a stand hung well in advance for any chance to get out that may present itself. Deer pics were flowing in from my camera and a drastic drop in temperature was coming. There were no family activities planned the morning of Oct 8 th and I found my way to the oak and my stand before daylight. Simply wanting meat to get us through the winter I wasn’t interested in a particular deer, just sustenance. Cell cameras showed deer moving within 100 yards so I waited optimistically. At one point I turned to my right and there she was, 65 yards away drinking from the pond. She followed my plan perfectly as she continued around the pond towards the strip of woods I was positioned in between the pond and a bean field. Just as she was about to clear the brush I drew and when she was in the open I touched off the release.
You never know exactly how things will go immediately after a shot but consistent practice certainly helps lead to blood trails like this.
The arrow had hit where I aimed and she darted into the strip of woods. She stopped briefly at 12 yards but confident in my shot I had not knocked another arrow…she didn’t go down. Concerned, I worked to remove an arrow from my quiver for a follow up. By that time she had continued along a fence until I lost her in the foliage. It seems like after every shot the animal doesn’t go down in site all the negativity and what if’s set in. This situation was no different. I replayed the shot in my mind over and over and couldn’t figure out what had happened. Was is just a touch back? Did she die just out of sight? I sat back and waited for an hour.
Climbing down I immediately went to my arrow which strangely had no blood on it. It was covered in fat and tallow. Looking towards the woods though I could clearly see the beginning of a blood trail. Taking up the trail it was easy to follow and things began to look more promising. I followed along the trail for 50 yards or so until the trail turned to drops and required a lot more effort to continue along. Then the white flag was waived and she was gone. Gone forever. Looking back obviously, I didn’t wait long enough to take up the trail. Not that I think it would have mattered.
The blood was a deep red and thick, not dark red as in a liver hit. There was no bile, no bubbles. Then I remember the arrow, no blood just fat. I pictured the shot placement and then the storyline played out in my head. The doe was at 7 yards when I shot. I had aimed for that spot 1/3 of the way up from the belly just behind the crease in the shoulder. Taking into account that the platform of my stand was at approx. 18’ and me being 6’ tall the arrow was coming from about 25’ up. That close, I needed to aim higher to catch both lungs. All I had done was drive an arrow through the fat and cartilage of the brisket giving her a nice flesh wound on her lower chest muscle. Rookie mistake.
The blood trail up to this point had been good. Finding blood at this height coming from the exit side was by all means encouraging.
I pouted around for a couple of days. Knowing this was of no benefit to myself or anyone around me, I cowboyed up and decided I was going to shoot more arrows and be ready for the next chance I would get. About the only thing, and certainly, the best, to do in this situation is to learn and be better next time.
Analyzing the shot and the situation I knew what I had done. It wouldn’t happen again. Luck would have it two weeks later my family would be leaving town to visit the in-laws during their Spring break. This was just the excuse I needed to get back in the stand. I went to bed early that Friday night to make sure I didn’t have any alarm clock mishaps with the snooze button. I was as determined now to redeem myself as ever. Every hunt essentially boils down to a study session with the final test being the obvious, a clean humane kill. I’d clearly failed earlier in the season and now all I could do was prepare and wait for the next test.
I questioned how things would go as an unexpected early morning bowel emergency slowed me to the stand and once I got there I realized I had left my outer layer back in the truck. Too late now. I’d just have to tough it out. Luckily it wouldn’t be too hard on me because the highs for the day would be extending into the 70s. Settling in I sat in silence during my favorite time of the day. That time when I’m in my stand but it’s too dark to see anything and the woods are yet to come alive. Then slowly but surely the sky starts to gain hints of grey which turn to light gray and if I’m lucky some purples and oranges before settling into a beautiful blue on this day. Along with the changing shades of the sky activity in the woods begins to pick up. A possum lumbers by to my left and a squirrel or two emerge from their nightly nests. You can hear their tiny claws grip the oak and hickory bark as they make their initial descent to the forest floor. I peer into the bean field to my left trying to catch any dark spots in the early morning light.
Eventually, the canopy of the hardwoods allows enough daylight in that I can begin scanning for any deer not wishing to be caught in the open. The magical first 15 minutes of shooting light didn’t reveal any deer but woods ducks began dropping from nowhere into the small pond I was situated next two. They just coming. Some would drop something sky and others would wiz by my head through the tree tops. The ducks would land with skidding splashes and paddle around occasionally going bottoms up looking for food.
It wasn’t long after a group of 7 does and fawns popped out on the mowed trail I had come on in. They munched on the grass and clover and the fawns galloped around pawing at one another without a care in the world. Two walked up to the pond to drink, submerging their hooves just beyond the bank. The group gave me a show to watch for at least 10 minutes before wandering off in the opposite direction where I sat. I was hoping their course would lead them past my stand but I was happy nonetheless. Sitting back down I was thankful for what I’d already seen that morning but continued dissecting the landscape for any more passersby. Eventually, one other straggler came through but stayed on the safe side of the pond.
The woods were full-on alive, as was I. Looking up I saw what I had come for. A deer straight to my South set on a course right for me. Standing I waited as it took its time meandering through the yellows, greens, reds, and oranges of Autumn. Turning towards the tree I was in position when I watched the deer pass through a shooting lane. I could have shot but I wasn’t ready. Not that I wasn’t prepared and capable, I just wasn’t ready for the moment to end. As the deer passed behind one last small tree it would enter into a perfect spot to take the shot.
The bowstring came back, I stopped the deer, settled the pin, and released. This time I aimed just a touch higher and again the arrow hit true to my aim. Bounding, turning, running, and eventually crashing I had done what I set out to do, put meat in the freezer and regain my confidence in my hunting abilities. Sitting back, I reflected and smiled.
Already thanking the Lord for what I had been given on this day it wasn’t over. From nearly the same spot a representative 8-pointer was on his way in. Knowing I had set my sites on killing an 8 or better buck this year my heart rate again began to elevate. He teased me by wandering back and forth, one minute heading for me but the next heading away. In the end, he disappeared in the foliage before appearing at the trailhead where I had spotted the first deer of the day. He headed in the direction they went but not before urinating in a scrape and freshening up the dirt. He was sure to hit the licking branch before continuing on his path out of our site. Knowing I had the best seat in the house that morning I climbed down and trailed my deer. Kneeling down I gave thanks again and began my day of celebrating the protein-filled gift I had been given.
As I've made it clear, I hunt to eat above all else. I've been on a pretty good run of cooking ribs and wanted desperately to try my hand at deer. A good rub and some fresh squeezed lemon juice had these hours old ribs ready for the grill.
Just a little caramelized on the outside and a coat of my favorite BBQ sauce my mouth was watering.
If you thought deer was too lean and the ribs were only good for coyote bait I certainly hope this picture changes your mind. The meat was fall off the bone tender and more than juicy enough to keep your looking forward to the next bite.
