[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BVbtzPBEg1g"]YouTube - 2010 624 Ranch SABO Sight Whitetail deer & turkey bow hunt ed 1[/ame]
somewhere, someplace the bowhunting gods have smiled upon me and given me a glimpse of their happy hunting grounds. somehow, by way of guiding duck hunts in Uruguay, i was teleported (invited) to hunt some with some of my hunters at their deer lease in McMullen County. The first invite was several years ago, and the friendships have continued to grow. this year was extra special. for seven years i have dealt with a number of setbacks and disapointments. these range from just not seeing a mature buck to a few untimely heartbreaking misses. Once I even had being given the green light on any 8 point, go figure that a free range 12 point shows up and won't leave my setup. Alas, after the years of set backs, it was once again time to go on an invite weekend to McMullen County.
For a guy in my shoes, I love the management hunt, certainly one man's trash is another man's treasure. thus the case, a mature 8 that was trying to be a 10 had been put on the my hit list and "The Stickman" kindly shared his whereabouts and habits.
on a foggy morning the buck was early to arrive to our offering of golden grain and he offered plenty of shots, i was patient enough to wait for a good camera frame plus a good angle. was i excited? heck yes, but not as nervous as i figured. I'd taken a number of does with the bow, and recently some very nice specimens of african plains game. while this buck was certainly nice, he didn't quite have the same affect on my adrenal glands as a 58" kudu! the red dots of SABO Sight glowed acute in the foggy morning. I'd also recently performed a new feat in indoor archery league, tripple bulls eyes at 40 yards! so, confindent and tempered, i administered, what the lighted Nocturnal nock and arrow showed to be a fatal shot and thus began the waiting game.
Brad has asked that I wait in the blind for the trail. After decades, ice ages and eons, the truck showed up with my trusty 4 legged tracking machine Slice the Wonder Russell and her new sidekick Ackley-Dice (recently adopted and not yet used to her new calling card).
about 120 yards later, Slice was busy ripping up the armpits of my buck while I grinned from ear to ear.
the rest of the hunt was a blast, my goal had finally been achieved! I even defended my maiz from a bunch of feathered corn disposals.
little did i know but my thrills were only begining. Slice and I rendered tracking services multiple times that weekend, and we bayed and shot, not one, not two but three other white tails. the most exciting of which involved pumping 9 x 40 cal S&W rounds into an adrenalin charged and enraged wounded 8 point while he hooked at Slice with his tines and even lowered his head and charged me.
it made me think long and hard once again about the difficult decision i had in choosing a career path either in drilling and completions or being a professional bull fighter. should have gone with the bull fighting.
somewhere, someplace the bowhunting gods have smiled upon me and given me a glimpse of their happy hunting grounds. somehow, by way of guiding duck hunts in Uruguay, i was teleported (invited) to hunt some with some of my hunters at their deer lease in McMullen County. The first invite was several years ago, and the friendships have continued to grow. this year was extra special. for seven years i have dealt with a number of setbacks and disapointments. these range from just not seeing a mature buck to a few untimely heartbreaking misses. Once I even had being given the green light on any 8 point, go figure that a free range 12 point shows up and won't leave my setup. Alas, after the years of set backs, it was once again time to go on an invite weekend to McMullen County.
For a guy in my shoes, I love the management hunt, certainly one man's trash is another man's treasure. thus the case, a mature 8 that was trying to be a 10 had been put on the my hit list and "The Stickman" kindly shared his whereabouts and habits.
on a foggy morning the buck was early to arrive to our offering of golden grain and he offered plenty of shots, i was patient enough to wait for a good camera frame plus a good angle. was i excited? heck yes, but not as nervous as i figured. I'd taken a number of does with the bow, and recently some very nice specimens of african plains game. while this buck was certainly nice, he didn't quite have the same affect on my adrenal glands as a 58" kudu! the red dots of SABO Sight glowed acute in the foggy morning. I'd also recently performed a new feat in indoor archery league, tripple bulls eyes at 40 yards! so, confindent and tempered, i administered, what the lighted Nocturnal nock and arrow showed to be a fatal shot and thus began the waiting game.
Brad has asked that I wait in the blind for the trail. After decades, ice ages and eons, the truck showed up with my trusty 4 legged tracking machine Slice the Wonder Russell and her new sidekick Ackley-Dice (recently adopted and not yet used to her new calling card).
about 120 yards later, Slice was busy ripping up the armpits of my buck while I grinned from ear to ear.
the rest of the hunt was a blast, my goal had finally been achieved! I even defended my maiz from a bunch of feathered corn disposals.
little did i know but my thrills were only begining. Slice and I rendered tracking services multiple times that weekend, and we bayed and shot, not one, not two but three other white tails. the most exciting of which involved pumping 9 x 40 cal S&W rounds into an adrenalin charged and enraged wounded 8 point while he hooked at Slice with his tines and even lowered his head and charged me.
it made me think long and hard once again about the difficult decision i had in choosing a career path either in drilling and completions or being a professional bull fighter. should have gone with the bull fighting.
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