This one finally puts me up to Pope and Young on the green screen.
This is some thing that happened several years ago but it is still funny to me
My Struggle with Temptation
Life is good. That was the primary thought running threw my feeble mind, as I set in a natural pit blind some two thousand miles north of my home in Texas. The pressure was off. I had already taken a trophy Caribou with my recurve so I knew I had not traveled to Quebec only to go home empty handed. I had two days left on the five day hunt so to add to the challenge; the recurve was setting in camp. Leaned up against the tree in front of me was a brand new Black widow two piece longbow. This was my first chance to hunt with it as it had only arrived three days before I flew out.
I had booked this hunt with Jack Hume Adventures, one of the premier Caribou outfitters in Quebec. From the time we left Montreal it had been every thing you could have asked. The float plane ride, camp facilities and staff were all top shelf. I had a nice warm cabin to sleep in and one of the best cooks in the business. My guide understood the limitations of my equipment and had worked out a plan to get me close. We had missed the main migration but due to the hard working staff, the other five hunters had all filled their tags and I had a really nice caribou hanging for myself, if we had left that day I would have been happy.
I had been on stand for only a couple of hours when I caught movement in the trees. Slipping down into the depression I picked up the longbow, feeling the familiar pressure building in my chest as I prepared for the shot. As the caribou cleared the brush, I was only a little disappointed to discover he was a small one. He feed up to within ten yards of me stopping to pose several time as he made his way past the blind. As he passed I drew my bow and held at full draw, picking out the very hair I wanted to hit. After a while he had fed back into the spruce trees.
Anyone who has hunted with me knows I struggle with temptation. I live for the shot, the perfect arrow. It was no surprise when I began to doubt my decision to let the small bull go. After all he was right there. “What were you thinking”? “You could have shot a Caribou with a longbow”. All these thoughts were running threw my head as I set for the next hour or so taking in the beauty of the far North wilderness.
Looking up from my daze, I was surprised to find the same little bull standing fifteen yards in front of me. Somehow he had crossed fifty yards of open ground without me noticing him. Waiting for him to look away, I slid back down and retrieved my bow. I was beginning to think he was going to walk into the blind with me, when finally at about ten feet he turned to his left. When he looked away, the longbow came up as if it had a mind of its own.
It was like being in a dream world. Hunkered down in the little depression, feeling my back muscles burn from holding the seventy pound bow at full draw as my mind whirled. “YOU CAN DO IT” screamed my subconscious. “He is too small” my brain said. “YOU CAN MAKE THIS SHOT”, “no wait control yourself, you still have a day and a half to get another good one”. “BUT IT IS RIGHT THERE, YOU CAN DO IT”. The world blurred with only the dark spot tight behind his shoulder in focus. With no conscious effort the arrow slipped away. From ten feet away it only took a millisecond for the Zephyer tipped arrow to zip threw the bull.
Calling on the radio, I informed my guide I had whacked one. He responded, “I know I’m right behind you on the hill. I had told him there was no need for him to set out in the rain. I had expected him to return by boat to main camp and wait for me to call. He had instead crossed the river and climbed a hill. He had watched the whole thing unfold threw his binoculars. It says a lot about their dedication to set out in the rain, just in case I needed him when he could have been backed up to a heater at camp with everyone else. He also showed great restraint in not making fun of my little bull. He only smiled and said well that should make for some fine eating.
I have always thought Caribou had to be on every bowhunter’s wish list. There are several outfitters that book hunts into the region. I can not speak about any of the others but as far as my hunt with Jack Hume, It will be a cherished memory that I will carry the rest of my like. I think next time I go, and I will go again, I will have the guide set with me and hold my arrows. That way if a small one walks by, he can jump up and run off with my arrows to keep me from shooting.
This is some thing that happened several years ago but it is still funny to me
My Struggle with Temptation
Life is good. That was the primary thought running threw my feeble mind, as I set in a natural pit blind some two thousand miles north of my home in Texas. The pressure was off. I had already taken a trophy Caribou with my recurve so I knew I had not traveled to Quebec only to go home empty handed. I had two days left on the five day hunt so to add to the challenge; the recurve was setting in camp. Leaned up against the tree in front of me was a brand new Black widow two piece longbow. This was my first chance to hunt with it as it had only arrived three days before I flew out.
I had booked this hunt with Jack Hume Adventures, one of the premier Caribou outfitters in Quebec. From the time we left Montreal it had been every thing you could have asked. The float plane ride, camp facilities and staff were all top shelf. I had a nice warm cabin to sleep in and one of the best cooks in the business. My guide understood the limitations of my equipment and had worked out a plan to get me close. We had missed the main migration but due to the hard working staff, the other five hunters had all filled their tags and I had a really nice caribou hanging for myself, if we had left that day I would have been happy.
I had been on stand for only a couple of hours when I caught movement in the trees. Slipping down into the depression I picked up the longbow, feeling the familiar pressure building in my chest as I prepared for the shot. As the caribou cleared the brush, I was only a little disappointed to discover he was a small one. He feed up to within ten yards of me stopping to pose several time as he made his way past the blind. As he passed I drew my bow and held at full draw, picking out the very hair I wanted to hit. After a while he had fed back into the spruce trees.
Anyone who has hunted with me knows I struggle with temptation. I live for the shot, the perfect arrow. It was no surprise when I began to doubt my decision to let the small bull go. After all he was right there. “What were you thinking”? “You could have shot a Caribou with a longbow”. All these thoughts were running threw my head as I set for the next hour or so taking in the beauty of the far North wilderness.
Looking up from my daze, I was surprised to find the same little bull standing fifteen yards in front of me. Somehow he had crossed fifty yards of open ground without me noticing him. Waiting for him to look away, I slid back down and retrieved my bow. I was beginning to think he was going to walk into the blind with me, when finally at about ten feet he turned to his left. When he looked away, the longbow came up as if it had a mind of its own.
It was like being in a dream world. Hunkered down in the little depression, feeling my back muscles burn from holding the seventy pound bow at full draw as my mind whirled. “YOU CAN DO IT” screamed my subconscious. “He is too small” my brain said. “YOU CAN MAKE THIS SHOT”, “no wait control yourself, you still have a day and a half to get another good one”. “BUT IT IS RIGHT THERE, YOU CAN DO IT”. The world blurred with only the dark spot tight behind his shoulder in focus. With no conscious effort the arrow slipped away. From ten feet away it only took a millisecond for the Zephyer tipped arrow to zip threw the bull.
Calling on the radio, I informed my guide I had whacked one. He responded, “I know I’m right behind you on the hill. I had told him there was no need for him to set out in the rain. I had expected him to return by boat to main camp and wait for me to call. He had instead crossed the river and climbed a hill. He had watched the whole thing unfold threw his binoculars. It says a lot about their dedication to set out in the rain, just in case I needed him when he could have been backed up to a heater at camp with everyone else. He also showed great restraint in not making fun of my little bull. He only smiled and said well that should make for some fine eating.
I have always thought Caribou had to be on every bowhunter’s wish list. There are several outfitters that book hunts into the region. I can not speak about any of the others but as far as my hunt with Jack Hume, It will be a cherished memory that I will carry the rest of my like. I think next time I go, and I will go again, I will have the guide set with me and hold my arrows. That way if a small one walks by, he can jump up and run off with my arrows to keep me from shooting.
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