The Ole Stick and String

Shortly after it was light enough to comfortably see through the peep, he came strolling down the well used, mowed trail. Deer had used the trail in previous years but this year they all seemed to be taking the same course through the woods. Miscalculating the extent they would be using this route, my hang on stand was not set up close enough to allow for a shot. Giving him time to commit to the trail as it turned to the West, away from a shot opportunity, a soft grunt came from my tube. He stopped and stared intently. Not convinced, he continued along the trail. Stopping him again with a grunt, he saw no competitors and moved along. Peering towards the pond where deer regularly drink, two does had made their way in.

The two does split apart and one went up a trail that would intersect with the buck. The other began feeding her way over to me. Once the buck was out of sight but still within 65 yards or so, I gave out two more convincing grunts and waited to see how it played out. There was now a live decoy closing in so odds seemed in my favor. After 30 seconds the distinct sound of a walking deer was heard from the direction he had disappeared. The spoils from the pond were just to the left and he could not see on the backside. Curiously searching for another buck he circled the mound of dirt. Once confident another buck was not there his attention turned to the doe that was now 15 yards to my right.

Blood covered fletching is always a good sign. Bowhunting is always a challenge and allows for extended hunting opportunities.

Taking his time, the buck began working his way towards myself and a potential partner. She fed almost directly under my perch and he took the bait. Giving out some grunts of his own he paused to paw at the ground 12 yards away. With two sets of eyes and him facing me, movement was not an option. The tension increased on my bow string but there was no way to draw at this time without blowing the chance altogether. Finally meeting up with the doe, it was clear she wasn’t interested. At 6 yards he must have caught me shifting my weight and appeared to look right through my soul. Even though standing broadside, I could no nothing. She walked to the West and he made the fatal mistake of turning away from me.

Without thought the bow was drawn as he made a 180, still broadside, just facing the other direction. It was too late. The green pin was centered on his body just behind the shoulder. Before I could hesitate or he could move the arrow split the heavy morning air. Smashing through the ribs just where it should, the arrow buried itself in the forest floor.

A well placed arrow made for an easy tracking job. Even when the prize is in sight I always follow the trail for practice in tougher times.

He bolted 30 yards and paused. His breathing became labored but he stood motionless. Starting back the way he had come from, just as he was about to disappear behind some brush, his back legs started to wobble. Moments later there was a single crash and all was silent. My attention was drawn back to the doe as she had only moved off a short distance. Slowly sitting back down I watched her and contemplated the situation. Checking the clock, it was 8:06 AM.

Collecting myself and watching the nearby doe meet back up with the other, I knocked another arrow on the outside chance he was not dead and would wonder back by. Finally, at 8:45 I could wait no longer and climbed down to investigate my arrow. As expected it was covered in crimson. The blood trail started immediately and went for 15 yards or so. After that, it slowed for 10 yards when I saw the puddle where he had paused. From there it was easy to follow and I saw him laying only 20 yards further. He had died on his feet and the single crash was the downed limb he landed on when life left his body.

The trophy is in the eyes of the beholder. This buck was a joy to hunt and will provide precious protein for my family and I.

I continued following the blood trail to observe and practice my tracking skills, although not necessary. The fine buck was thanked for his life to give just that to me and my family. The Good Lord was praised for giving me such an amazing opportunity and blessing me with food on the table. Heart sandwich was on the lunch menu and by Sunday evening everything was packaged, less the burger that would get ground on Monday evening. The hunt lives on in my mind and will continue to inspire my pursuits. Perfect mornings like this bring us back for the next time.