THE WALK
3:30am…the alarm rings, the morning routine begins. Careful not wake the wife and kids. Like a ninja, quite and calculated I move around the house as if practicing for a life of crime. Everything seemed to be going smooth well timed, and according to plan. Wait… How in the heck is it already 4:25??? Now once again racing the clock as always, wondering why do I just not…just…get up earlier? Either way, knowing I have a hour plus drive ahead of me and trust me…there is a definitely a schedule to keep. After all I am lucky enough to have one of those buddies who is eagerly waiting for an opportunity to give me a hard time for being late…again. Showered and dressed for the drive, with the cooler, hunting clothes, and gear already loaded. It leaves only one item remaining, ”The Dog”, cannot forget “The Dog”. SPOILER ALERT this could be another lost deer sad story if not for “The Dog”…
.
5:28am…with permission of the local air traffic controller I prepare my decent shutting down the Tundra and sliding into the gate safely… and early
. Two minuets to spare, and best yet…no hard time from “that guy” who looked almost disappointed he could not pick me apart, all in “deer lease” fun of course. Never the less in great good buddy form, greeted me with a handshake and smile. The only thing better than hunting alone is hunting with friends and family.
5:40am…fully dressed, bows strapped to the packs, game faces painted, focused, and with all prayers said we turn to make the walk. Did I mention this was going to be a loooong walk? It was all part of our new plan to park at the top of the ranch and walk into the bottom. Reluctantly making this walk almost a mile long just to try and avoid alerting the targeted wildlife. The only thing to make this walk longer is the dark. Exactly what we were in, but this time it felt really dark, untypical kind of darkness. Dark enough that we both felt compelled enough to commented on it. Maybe that is how two buddies say “I am glad you are hear, you complete me, because **** I am not sure if I want to walk all that way alone in this, hahaha”. Well, I am sure that is what he was thinking anyways. Just the same the moonlight was offering very little help in highlighting the gravel road this morning. A road that had always seemed to illuminate under any natural light now left us in the need of flashlights. So with trail lights on our morning walk continued as planned. Not to say the walk wouldn’t be long enough, but in the exaggerated darkness it seemed longer than ever before. Even more so with the misty low lying fog being slowly pushed across our path by the subtle breeze.
6:05am…where is my stand, I know dang well I put it right here. This satanic fog…oh wait never mind, sorry I found it. Well actually I found the feeder reflecting off of the intense flashlight fog combination. Quickly letting me know I was just ever so slightly off target, lol. Funny how so many trees look alike in the deafening darkness when they are so elegantly sprinkled with FOG
!!!
6:10am…in the stand ( well 9’ tripod). Sweating more than normal and no doubt due to the highlighted sense of feeling lost in the fog just a few minutes ago. I still sit feeling thankful to be there safely and very optimistic with the cooling breeze perfectly positioned in my favor. Now we wait…or as most hunters do…repeatedly nod off and on only to awake to wonder just how long was I asleep? Part of the problem with a comfy set up.
THE HUNT
7:00, 7;01, 7:02, 7:03 7:04am…daylight is definitely stalling. The fog only playing tricks on my eyes and games with my heart. Careless with my emotions, the fog keeps first light at bay just a little longer. Making legal shooting times worthless when you are bow hunting over a feeder set up at 30yrds. As if every bush, every stick looks like a deer. Is it a deer? Wait…is it a buck? OMG…is it one of the bucks we have been watching on camera? Never mind it is nothing AGAIN…foolish me…bleeping fog!
7:14am…whoa wait what is that…now that my friend is what you call a deer. That has to be a buck, right? I mean look at the size of the body, even in the fog. Is it one of the bucks we have been looking for? (Not that there are an abundance of shooters to look at, hahaha) I know from scouting trail camera picture this spot has had two bucks routinely visiting this feeder like tag team champions. One of those being a younger smaller six point and one of those a mature good size eight point (by our standards). What if that is the smaller six point, that means the eight point is near? I have never seen pictures of one of those bucks and not seen the other. If I had only brought my binoculars that I foolishly said at 5:39am just before leaving the truck, “I don’t think I will need these this morning”. Without sympathy the fog obviously had me rethinking my earlier statement. No matter how I squinted or which eye I covered, I tell you I just could not make out the rack. If I were at Eye Masters I would have for sure failed that eye exam, but not without blaming the Fog of course. AND THEN…dun dun dun (in my most theatric suspenseful voice) you can’t miss that guy, but don’t ask me how he got that close without seeing him. The eight point is standing less than 5yards from me to my left. Fog or no fog he was close enough to smell having the wind in my favor. You could almost smell all eight points, that is how close he was. If not for the strategically placed tripod (placed by me) just 10’ off of the wood line, surrounded in the deep cover of vines and small trees, we would only have the sounds of our heart beats between us. Would this be my chance, I only had one shooting lane? Setting up this tripod, I knew there would be less chance for the enemy to spot me if I kept my stand deeply covert. Being that close in that thick of cover I knew I had no shot, not unless I jumped from the tripod like a Warrior Indian with my knife grasped tightly in my teeth. Man VS Beast we would fight it out and let fait decide who was for diner. BUT…not knowing if that was legal I played my cards choosing to call and let the dealer show his hand. Seconds seemed as if minuets. Minuets seemed as if hours as this “legend of the fog” walked slowly into the field, casually drifting into my shooting lane. Only to be facing away from me as to say “kiss this”. Offering no other shot than “kiss this” I quickly disputed the Texas heart shot drawing back my bow and settling the pin on the exit hole I let it (not really just kidding). So really I was forced to watch this mythical monster (to me) effortlessly part the fog as he passed the feeder. He could not have walked a straighter line with his “kiss this” lined up between the feeder and my stand, almost as is it was a sobriety test. Not until…
7:18am...don’t tell me mountains can’t be moved. Pray hard enough and let God sort it out. As if to say he wanted to be invited to diner tonight, the buck suddenly hit the Jake-brake and right blinker all at the same time. Now it is all coming together…I know that bush, ranged it dozens of times before, 38yards and he is standing right next to it. I got this… or don’t I? Still foggy I drew Ol’ faithful back only to notice I forgot to nock an arrow as I sat in the dark (not really, but that would suck) But I did notice the arrow I nocked in the dark was one that did not have a Lumnock on the end of it. …figures but no time to change arrows now. I had a meeting with destiny and did not want to miss it. I let it fly… and magically at this point time slows just like the movies. The action movie type of slow like when the car explodes as the guy is running away slow. Counting the turns of the fletching slow…All of the prep work, all of the practice, blood, sweat, tears comes down to this. Son of a motherless hen I connected, but you can kiss my “kiss this” I was sure by the sound I did not hit him where I wanted. It sounded more like slapping a fat guy on the belly other than a knock out punch from Tyson. Due to the slight fog still looming and the lack of a lighted nock I was unsure. My fears quickly started to became reality as he only ran about 30yards before stopping and slumping. That stop you learn recognize from sadly gut shooting a deer before. He honestly didn’t know what hit him, but he knew he wasn’t feeling too good. Now developing a slight lean and with his body slumping lethargically El Bucko Ocho slowly started his walk away disappearing into the perfectly placed trees. Quickly loosing sight of him, I noted his last direction seen…South / Southwest.
TO BE CONTINUED...
3:30am…the alarm rings, the morning routine begins. Careful not wake the wife and kids. Like a ninja, quite and calculated I move around the house as if practicing for a life of crime. Everything seemed to be going smooth well timed, and according to plan. Wait… How in the heck is it already 4:25??? Now once again racing the clock as always, wondering why do I just not…just…get up earlier? Either way, knowing I have a hour plus drive ahead of me and trust me…there is a definitely a schedule to keep. After all I am lucky enough to have one of those buddies who is eagerly waiting for an opportunity to give me a hard time for being late…again. Showered and dressed for the drive, with the cooler, hunting clothes, and gear already loaded. It leaves only one item remaining, ”The Dog”, cannot forget “The Dog”. SPOILER ALERT this could be another lost deer sad story if not for “The Dog”…
.5:28am…with permission of the local air traffic controller I prepare my decent shutting down the Tundra and sliding into the gate safely… and early
. Two minuets to spare, and best yet…no hard time from “that guy” who looked almost disappointed he could not pick me apart, all in “deer lease” fun of course. Never the less in great good buddy form, greeted me with a handshake and smile. The only thing better than hunting alone is hunting with friends and family.5:40am…fully dressed, bows strapped to the packs, game faces painted, focused, and with all prayers said we turn to make the walk. Did I mention this was going to be a loooong walk? It was all part of our new plan to park at the top of the ranch and walk into the bottom. Reluctantly making this walk almost a mile long just to try and avoid alerting the targeted wildlife. The only thing to make this walk longer is the dark. Exactly what we were in, but this time it felt really dark, untypical kind of darkness. Dark enough that we both felt compelled enough to commented on it. Maybe that is how two buddies say “I am glad you are hear, you complete me, because **** I am not sure if I want to walk all that way alone in this, hahaha”. Well, I am sure that is what he was thinking anyways. Just the same the moonlight was offering very little help in highlighting the gravel road this morning. A road that had always seemed to illuminate under any natural light now left us in the need of flashlights. So with trail lights on our morning walk continued as planned. Not to say the walk wouldn’t be long enough, but in the exaggerated darkness it seemed longer than ever before. Even more so with the misty low lying fog being slowly pushed across our path by the subtle breeze.
6:05am…where is my stand, I know dang well I put it right here. This satanic fog…oh wait never mind, sorry I found it. Well actually I found the feeder reflecting off of the intense flashlight fog combination. Quickly letting me know I was just ever so slightly off target, lol. Funny how so many trees look alike in the deafening darkness when they are so elegantly sprinkled with FOG
!!! 6:10am…in the stand ( well 9’ tripod). Sweating more than normal and no doubt due to the highlighted sense of feeling lost in the fog just a few minutes ago. I still sit feeling thankful to be there safely and very optimistic with the cooling breeze perfectly positioned in my favor. Now we wait…or as most hunters do…repeatedly nod off and on only to awake to wonder just how long was I asleep? Part of the problem with a comfy set up.
THE HUNT
7:00, 7;01, 7:02, 7:03 7:04am…daylight is definitely stalling. The fog only playing tricks on my eyes and games with my heart. Careless with my emotions, the fog keeps first light at bay just a little longer. Making legal shooting times worthless when you are bow hunting over a feeder set up at 30yrds. As if every bush, every stick looks like a deer. Is it a deer? Wait…is it a buck? OMG…is it one of the bucks we have been watching on camera? Never mind it is nothing AGAIN…foolish me…bleeping fog!
7:14am…whoa wait what is that…now that my friend is what you call a deer. That has to be a buck, right? I mean look at the size of the body, even in the fog. Is it one of the bucks we have been looking for? (Not that there are an abundance of shooters to look at, hahaha) I know from scouting trail camera picture this spot has had two bucks routinely visiting this feeder like tag team champions. One of those being a younger smaller six point and one of those a mature good size eight point (by our standards). What if that is the smaller six point, that means the eight point is near? I have never seen pictures of one of those bucks and not seen the other. If I had only brought my binoculars that I foolishly said at 5:39am just before leaving the truck, “I don’t think I will need these this morning”. Without sympathy the fog obviously had me rethinking my earlier statement. No matter how I squinted or which eye I covered, I tell you I just could not make out the rack. If I were at Eye Masters I would have for sure failed that eye exam, but not without blaming the Fog of course. AND THEN…dun dun dun (in my most theatric suspenseful voice) you can’t miss that guy, but don’t ask me how he got that close without seeing him. The eight point is standing less than 5yards from me to my left. Fog or no fog he was close enough to smell having the wind in my favor. You could almost smell all eight points, that is how close he was. If not for the strategically placed tripod (placed by me) just 10’ off of the wood line, surrounded in the deep cover of vines and small trees, we would only have the sounds of our heart beats between us. Would this be my chance, I only had one shooting lane? Setting up this tripod, I knew there would be less chance for the enemy to spot me if I kept my stand deeply covert. Being that close in that thick of cover I knew I had no shot, not unless I jumped from the tripod like a Warrior Indian with my knife grasped tightly in my teeth. Man VS Beast we would fight it out and let fait decide who was for diner. BUT…not knowing if that was legal I played my cards choosing to call and let the dealer show his hand. Seconds seemed as if minuets. Minuets seemed as if hours as this “legend of the fog” walked slowly into the field, casually drifting into my shooting lane. Only to be facing away from me as to say “kiss this”. Offering no other shot than “kiss this” I quickly disputed the Texas heart shot drawing back my bow and settling the pin on the exit hole I let it (not really just kidding). So really I was forced to watch this mythical monster (to me) effortlessly part the fog as he passed the feeder. He could not have walked a straighter line with his “kiss this” lined up between the feeder and my stand, almost as is it was a sobriety test. Not until…
7:18am...don’t tell me mountains can’t be moved. Pray hard enough and let God sort it out. As if to say he wanted to be invited to diner tonight, the buck suddenly hit the Jake-brake and right blinker all at the same time. Now it is all coming together…I know that bush, ranged it dozens of times before, 38yards and he is standing right next to it. I got this… or don’t I? Still foggy I drew Ol’ faithful back only to notice I forgot to nock an arrow as I sat in the dark (not really, but that would suck) But I did notice the arrow I nocked in the dark was one that did not have a Lumnock on the end of it. …figures but no time to change arrows now. I had a meeting with destiny and did not want to miss it. I let it fly… and magically at this point time slows just like the movies. The action movie type of slow like when the car explodes as the guy is running away slow. Counting the turns of the fletching slow…All of the prep work, all of the practice, blood, sweat, tears comes down to this. Son of a motherless hen I connected, but you can kiss my “kiss this” I was sure by the sound I did not hit him where I wanted. It sounded more like slapping a fat guy on the belly other than a knock out punch from Tyson. Due to the slight fog still looming and the lack of a lighted nock I was unsure. My fears quickly started to became reality as he only ran about 30yards before stopping and slumping. That stop you learn recognize from sadly gut shooting a deer before. He honestly didn’t know what hit him, but he knew he wasn’t feeling too good. Now developing a slight lean and with his body slumping lethargically El Bucko Ocho slowly started his walk away disappearing into the perfectly placed trees. Quickly loosing sight of him, I noted his last direction seen…South / Southwest.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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