My best buck & A learning experience
This is a story with several lessons in faith and perseverance.
Cliff notes version - I shot my best buck - small acreage, no fence, Smith Co. He isn't scored yet, but he is a nice symmetrical 8 point with blades for brow tines. Equipment - Mathews Chill X, Black Eagle Arrows X Impact with four blade Slick Trick Razor Trick broadheads. I shoot 52# draw weight and pull it back 26.5" Scroll down to the pictures
If you want the full story - keep reading!
After scouting during the season last year, I knew where to put my hang-on stand this year. So in the heat of August, I convinced my husband to sweat it out and help me put it up. The trade off was we put up his stand over the one feeder we have. Fine with me, I prefer the travel lanes anyway. Bucks avoid the feeder during the season. I put up a camera but wasn't getting any pictures. I wasn't worried, I just figured it was pointing the wrong way. Afterall, it was on a heavily used game trail.
Well, the second week of the season, a tree fell on my stand!
Ordinarily, I would have been a doom and gloom person. I admit I was pretty upset, but I moved it to a new location, saying several times, maybe this was God's way of telling me I was in the wrong place!! My new place is a huge oak tree on a slope with me facing uphill; downhill is a creek bottom. To my left and in front of me is the dirt road that wraps around and is frequently used by everything. Again, I put up the camera, but very few pictures. Again, not worried. I went out every couple of days and hand spread corn. And waited for the rut.
Meanwhile, my husband's stand by the feeder was on fire! Does and pigs all day and occasionally even some nice bucks cruised through at night. Then a week ago, Sunday/Monday, this big fellow showed up mid-morning and hung around a while.
When I saw the photos last Thursday, I was excited! I knew the rut was starting, and he was chasing. It was all I could do to go to work on Friday, but even I have my limits, and I left at 2. I raced home, thinking I would hunt the feeder. My husband wanted to go too. He's a left hand shooter, and the feeder is set up for him. I stayed cheerful. I will hunt my stand! We got in place about 4. First, after texting my husband I was safe in the treestand, I always nock an arrow and be ready to shoot. Then I started getting my gear out, like my water and binoculars. I didn't have my gloves on yet, when I saw movement.. Pigs!! I pulled on my gloves and sat down, grabbing my bow. Right on cue, two stepped out of the brush and into my 20 yard lane! I busted one- double lung, it ran 40 yards and fell. Sweet! I texted Enoch. He was jazzed but stunned -YOU JUST GOT THERE! I was still on my phone when a nice buck cruised by on the road. I was caught off guard, but decided it wasn't him, although I studied him for a while. So those were the opening acts!
On to the the main show! An hour later, I heard some steps behind me. I peered around and saw him. I knew the instant I laid eyes on him, it was the Bladed 8. He crept around through the brush, oblivious to me. He was on an arc working his way up the hill. Although I could easily watch him, the brush was too thick to make a shot. He came close to where the pig had been standing and was still arcing away from me. I twisted in my seat and it made a noise. The noise actually made him curious, so he turned and arced toward me. He stopped and jerked his head up. I knew he couldn't see me, but I didn't move anyway. Then he walked straight toward me, and started eating some corn. I was at full draw. Then, again, right on cue, he turned broadside. I let fly. It appeared my lighted nock hit perfect behind the elbow, low. He ran off, and my arrow remained - a pass-through! I was so calm through it all, but now I was shaking. I called my sister (Dusty Britches) but she was hunting too, and didn't answer. I started to hyperventilate. I called my husband. In high pitched squeaks I tried to tell him. He finally said listen- breathe in...breathe out...breathe in....breathe out. Finally I was able to breathe and tell him what happened. I climbed down after 15 minutes, to look at the arrow, thinking wow! heart shot (but I didn't hear him go down).
Then I went to find the pig, an easy track and find. I left out the opposite way of the buck and headed to the truck. We decided to get my dog to run the easy track, she needs experience. Two hours later, we started the track. Right away, there was an obvious problem. No blood. None. Anywhere. We looked for two hours. In the dark. Angry and frustrated, we quit until the morning. We still had a pig to process. The next day, we looked for 3 more hours. Nothing. After numerous phone calls to many people, we decided I hit too low and it was a flesh wound. I expected to see him again. But the landowner, an experienced hunter who hunts all over the world, wasn't convinced. Mark is proud of me and my accomplishments, and really wanted me to have this deer. On Sunday, after church, me feeling like I fumbled on the 2 yard line, we went out to look again. I told him the story and the direction the deer went, still convinced we were wasting our time. Mark went off down the trail with his chocolate lab. We waited. Less than 20 minutes later, he came back and said I found him! I said you're joking! He said no, he was gut shot. He's about 300 yards from here. We drove the truck around, and found him, tucked under a tree, where he stayed cool, and conveniently, right by the dirt road. The flies had not even found him yet!
It turns out he wasn't gut shot, he was hit in the liver and bleed completely internally. I hit a little back, but we think he turned back toward me right when the arrow flew, making it a quartering-to-me shot. Those who know me, know I rarely make a bad shot. Of course, after the find, all those who said it was flesh wound said "Ah Ha! Liver shot! That's why no blood, and with such a dark bloody arrow, clearly not a flesh wound!" Thanks! I will remember that!
I can't thank Mark enough for allowing me to shoot this nice buck. I'll get a rough score later today. Thanks for reading this. I real darn proud of him.
Cliff notes version - I shot my best buck - small acreage, no fence, Smith Co. He isn't scored yet, but he is a nice symmetrical 8 point with blades for brow tines. Equipment - Mathews Chill X, Black Eagle Arrows X Impact with four blade Slick Trick Razor Trick broadheads. I shoot 52# draw weight and pull it back 26.5" Scroll down to the pictures
If you want the full story - keep reading!
After scouting during the season last year, I knew where to put my hang-on stand this year. So in the heat of August, I convinced my husband to sweat it out and help me put it up. The trade off was we put up his stand over the one feeder we have. Fine with me, I prefer the travel lanes anyway. Bucks avoid the feeder during the season. I put up a camera but wasn't getting any pictures. I wasn't worried, I just figured it was pointing the wrong way. Afterall, it was on a heavily used game trail.
Well, the second week of the season, a tree fell on my stand!
Ordinarily, I would have been a doom and gloom person. I admit I was pretty upset, but I moved it to a new location, saying several times, maybe this was God's way of telling me I was in the wrong place!! My new place is a huge oak tree on a slope with me facing uphill; downhill is a creek bottom. To my left and in front of me is the dirt road that wraps around and is frequently used by everything. Again, I put up the camera, but very few pictures. Again, not worried. I went out every couple of days and hand spread corn. And waited for the rut.Meanwhile, my husband's stand by the feeder was on fire! Does and pigs all day and occasionally even some nice bucks cruised through at night. Then a week ago, Sunday/Monday, this big fellow showed up mid-morning and hung around a while.
When I saw the photos last Thursday, I was excited! I knew the rut was starting, and he was chasing. It was all I could do to go to work on Friday, but even I have my limits, and I left at 2. I raced home, thinking I would hunt the feeder. My husband wanted to go too. He's a left hand shooter, and the feeder is set up for him. I stayed cheerful. I will hunt my stand! We got in place about 4. First, after texting my husband I was safe in the treestand, I always nock an arrow and be ready to shoot. Then I started getting my gear out, like my water and binoculars. I didn't have my gloves on yet, when I saw movement.. Pigs!! I pulled on my gloves and sat down, grabbing my bow. Right on cue, two stepped out of the brush and into my 20 yard lane! I busted one- double lung, it ran 40 yards and fell. Sweet! I texted Enoch. He was jazzed but stunned -YOU JUST GOT THERE! I was still on my phone when a nice buck cruised by on the road. I was caught off guard, but decided it wasn't him, although I studied him for a while. So those were the opening acts!
On to the the main show! An hour later, I heard some steps behind me. I peered around and saw him. I knew the instant I laid eyes on him, it was the Bladed 8. He crept around through the brush, oblivious to me. He was on an arc working his way up the hill. Although I could easily watch him, the brush was too thick to make a shot. He came close to where the pig had been standing and was still arcing away from me. I twisted in my seat and it made a noise. The noise actually made him curious, so he turned and arced toward me. He stopped and jerked his head up. I knew he couldn't see me, but I didn't move anyway. Then he walked straight toward me, and started eating some corn. I was at full draw. Then, again, right on cue, he turned broadside. I let fly. It appeared my lighted nock hit perfect behind the elbow, low. He ran off, and my arrow remained - a pass-through! I was so calm through it all, but now I was shaking. I called my sister (Dusty Britches) but she was hunting too, and didn't answer. I started to hyperventilate. I called my husband. In high pitched squeaks I tried to tell him. He finally said listen- breathe in...breathe out...breathe in....breathe out. Finally I was able to breathe and tell him what happened. I climbed down after 15 minutes, to look at the arrow, thinking wow! heart shot (but I didn't hear him go down).
Then I went to find the pig, an easy track and find. I left out the opposite way of the buck and headed to the truck. We decided to get my dog to run the easy track, she needs experience. Two hours later, we started the track. Right away, there was an obvious problem. No blood. None. Anywhere. We looked for two hours. In the dark. Angry and frustrated, we quit until the morning. We still had a pig to process. The next day, we looked for 3 more hours. Nothing. After numerous phone calls to many people, we decided I hit too low and it was a flesh wound. I expected to see him again. But the landowner, an experienced hunter who hunts all over the world, wasn't convinced. Mark is proud of me and my accomplishments, and really wanted me to have this deer. On Sunday, after church, me feeling like I fumbled on the 2 yard line, we went out to look again. I told him the story and the direction the deer went, still convinced we were wasting our time. Mark went off down the trail with his chocolate lab. We waited. Less than 20 minutes later, he came back and said I found him! I said you're joking! He said no, he was gut shot. He's about 300 yards from here. We drove the truck around, and found him, tucked under a tree, where he stayed cool, and conveniently, right by the dirt road. The flies had not even found him yet!
It turns out he wasn't gut shot, he was hit in the liver and bleed completely internally. I hit a little back, but we think he turned back toward me right when the arrow flew, making it a quartering-to-me shot. Those who know me, know I rarely make a bad shot. Of course, after the find, all those who said it was flesh wound said "Ah Ha! Liver shot! That's why no blood, and with such a dark bloody arrow, clearly not a flesh wound!" Thanks! I will remember that!
I can't thank Mark enough for allowing me to shoot this nice buck. I'll get a rough score later today. Thanks for reading this. I real darn proud of him.
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