You know I am long winded on my posts, so you know this is going to be long... 
My first deer with a trad bow.
I dozed off around 9:30pm on Friday night before the General Season opener. The ranch was wet, the roads were slippery, and all my lease mates had dropping out one by one and deciding not to come out. The weather forecasts had been all over the map the past few days prior. I had driven out Thursday morning expecting the worse, but pleasantly surprised that the area had not seen the 3-4" of rain that had been expected. I was able to unpack all my gear into my 8ft x 8ft cabin I had built over the previous 3 seasons. I had put in 3 sits between then and Friday night. I had seen 3 deer total and plenty of blowing and snorting. Two of those deer were within range Friday morning, but both were spooky and one must have seen me put down my range finder to double check for nubs in the pre-sunrise light, just minutes after official legal shooting time and passed. This was a big missed opportunity in my mind and it would affect me later during the hunt. 3+ hours of non-stop rain ended that morning hunt short and sealed the deal on myself being the only lease member coming out that weekend.
About 2 hours after I dozed off Friday night, I was awaken by rain hitting the tin roof of the cabin that I call my "mini hunting lodge." It had rained the previous night, but this rain was a little more like the rain that had holed me up in the cabin earlier between the morning and evening hunts. There hadn't been anything on radar before I dozed off, but the prediction for more rain must have materialized. I thought about the rifle I had brought. Maybe I should just sleep in and see if I can take the doe I had backstrapped 3 weeks prior and was convinced was the deer that winded me just hours earlier and put on a 3 minute circling temper tantrum of blowing and stomping at the very same blind I had wounded her. I was sticking to not pulling out the compound, but I was still not ruling out the rifle as a means to put venison in the freezer. I wasn’t feeling particularly good about my chances.
I would wake up a few more times during the early morning hours of Saturday. The rain was continuous. I reached over and disabled my 4:45am alarm and wondered whether or not I'd even be willing to go get the gun out of the truck and get all that boom-stick stuff ready to go. 5am hits and I am awake. The rain drops from the trees where still playing music on the tin roof, but the rain had ceased. I walked outside and checked the radar on my phone. I was covered in green with lots of yellow nearby, but at the moment there was a spot or two that would give me an opportunity to do something... anything. I ran back into the cabin and donned on my hunting clothes and put on my frogg togg jacket. I reached for the bow, and remembered to grab the bag of hand corn I had filled the night before. I set out in the pitch black morning. A flashlight was useless as the light rain would reflect it all back anyways.
As I walked down the hill from camp and reached the pasture, I realized quickly exactly how much rain we had received. I was slipping already on the road on my own two feet. As I took the turn that would take me through the pasture to the cattle panel blind I had constructed and brushed in only 2 months prior. The pasture was completely soaked and I was sinking into the ground at most every step. The cloud-cloud lightening showed me the picture... every old tire track, foot step, deer/hog print was it's own little pond/creek. The area under the feeder enclosed by cattle panel was just a pond.
I stopped and wondered what the hell was I doing here? This was different than the previous morning when I was going to hunt a more convenient spot and once there had determined the wind was wrong. The wind was good, but the weather and the ground was just a mess! I threw my hand corn in the primary shooting lane this time and all I could hear was the splashing of the corn when it hit the watery ground. I snuck inside the cattle panel blind and tried to get comfortable. It was 5:55am. It was dark, there was lightening, but at least the wind was at my face. I looked up to see the "stars in the roof." These were the holes that were in the 4mil plastic roof that were made by the cedar branches I had piled on top and crammed into the existing branches of the tree I had cut this blind into. I wondered if they would stream a steady state of water when it poured again. I thought of my statement to Bisch on the fact that I didn’t need to be completely dry in one… I thought about how hot and dry it was that day my 10yr old son and I put this thing together. The scratches on my arms and legs. Such a different day than today, where it was cold enough that I could see my breath, and so very very wet.
I wondered again why I was there when it began to down pour for nearly 15 minutes. I rationalized that I was there to tough it out. To set a baseline for what really constitutes a sucky hunting situation. The down pour was letting up and I checked my phone, It was 6:25 and the GPS had told me that sunrise was 6:50, so I was good to go for legal shooting hours. Of course, it was still pretty dark out there.
Then it happened so quickly. I don't recall how long it took after the rain had subsided a little, but light began to come quickly. A breeze through the window prompted me to pull my wool hat down over my ears a little more and I looked outside the window and there it was. Like the ninjas that they are, a deer had appeared in my shooting lane. Maybe 12 yards away, eating my hand corn in earnest. The first thing I noted about this deer was that it was too big to be a fawn or a nub, but it wasn't a big bodied deer. I figured it was either the doe that had appeared the same time yesterday morning, or the spike. That thought processes was nearly instantaneous. In fact, I don't recall thinking through it logically, it was as though I just knew it in my mind. I really couldn't see its head well, and my initial instinct was to let it settle in. But as I sat there, staring at its position for a couple seconds, I realize that the shot didn't get more prefect than what I was being presented with. It was slightly quartering away, head down facing away. It was straining somehow and had its onside front leg forward. I could see the white of the armpit just glaring through the pre-sunrise light. I remember asking myself why I wasn't drawing. I couldn't think of a good reason to wait. I raised my bow and drew to anchor. I aimed low this time, focusing on the white patch of hair exposed by the forward leg. The very bottom of this patch. Where white met the darkness of the wet mud below it. Next thing I know, I see my nock fly down range. The arrow hit mid body, but I didn’t know how far back or forward; other than it didn’t look far enough back to be liver. All I know is it looked good enough to make two holes but not completely pass through. It spun and hit the mud and flopped before getting up and running through a bush and out the other side and down towards........ the fence line!
I have a love-hate relationship with this spot. I have killed many a deer with a rifle. All of which have dropped on sight. In fact, I didn't really pay attention to the property lines until I had to track my first deer I flung an arrow at with my compound 2 years prior. She ran to the fence line, jumped the fence, across the road. Long story short, T-storms cut that track short and I never laid eyes on her although she was confirmed dead by a hunter on that lease much too late. Now, this deer didn't run that way, but it did run to a different fence line that was about 120 yards away, a fence line that I didn't have permission to cross. Why again was I hunting here?
I waited about 20 minutes before getting out of the blind and checking for blood. It was a long 20 minutes. Not of excitement, but of anxiety and trying to not get my hopes up. I had been burned once to often. The only thing that made me smile was the sound of gunshots ringing out one by one, probably 5 total in all as I waited. I was reminded that I chose to bowhunt during what is usually the best day to take a deer with a gun. As I walked up to the spot, I was rewarded with some really good sign, but some of that sign was bloody water, a reminder that this track might not be so easy. I worried about the rain again. As I headed the opposite direction back to camp, I prayed "God, please let it be on the property. God, please let it be on the property." I said it like 100 times too. I put away my chair, grabbed my binos in case I needed to scan past the fence. And headed back out in the light rain. I went to the other side of the bush it had run through and tried looking for sign. There wasn't a lot at first. There were tracks everywhere, so it was hard to find its specific foot prints. But then I found it, blood on another rock. I scanned and found some more another 5 yards away. This let me see what direction it was taking... still towards the fence.... 10 yards later I saw what looked like skid marks in the mud turning towards the pond, away from the fence. I didn't see much blood but the skid marks weren't full of water. Then there was some blood, and more blood between two trees that was the head of a trail that continued on a path away from the fence. I started to feel more optimistic. As I walked through the opening, I saw blood. I looked right for an instant, and there he lied. I threw my hands into the air... by Black Window in one hand and looked straight up and said "THANK YOU GOD!!!!"
Mind you, I didn't get the shakes when I watched the deer run off, I had been in this situation before. My body knew better than to get excited. I resisted the urge to text anybody... not even my wife. There were too many variables to declare victory. But I will never forget that sight of that deer under the tree, with the zwickey pointing up in the air on the opposite side. I could feel the smile on my face. Even the realization that it wasn't a doe, it wasn't a spike, it was a young, likely 2 year old buck wasn't enough to squash the emotion that I had done it. All those evenings in the back yard flinging arrow after arrow after arrow. All those frustrating First Shot challenge misses. The 2 hour drives to shoot 3D in the sping. The tweaking, the shooting, the sore bow arm, the shooting, the mosquitoes, had all finally brought me to this moment.
I called my wife. I knew she was driving to Giddings at that moment, taking my son to a martial arts tournament. I mustered some calmness. In a subdued voice I told her that I was coming home today. That the weather was just too much. That the rain had gotten to me. I was just done.... oh, and I just killed a deer with my recurve “I’m sorry… wait… what!!!??!???”
It took me some time to get the cart, haul it back to camp, get some pictures, quarter it, pack up, etc and literally slide my way out of camp. I didn’t get to celebrate with a beer as I usually do. No pictures of me with the deer as I was by myself. However, I am very thankful for one thing... that I did have some buddies to share the experience with that morning. I can't say enough good things about the guys on the trad forum. This is a journey that I wouldn't have been able to really taken without you guys. If I had your number in my phone... you got a text that morning! If you weren't, I really wanted to post up to the forum, but my service out of the lease is spotty due to the terrain. I know this story is really long, but I just felt compelled to share it; after all, most of you are part of that story in some form or fashion.
(I'll post pics shortly)
My first deer with a trad bow.
I dozed off around 9:30pm on Friday night before the General Season opener. The ranch was wet, the roads were slippery, and all my lease mates had dropping out one by one and deciding not to come out. The weather forecasts had been all over the map the past few days prior. I had driven out Thursday morning expecting the worse, but pleasantly surprised that the area had not seen the 3-4" of rain that had been expected. I was able to unpack all my gear into my 8ft x 8ft cabin I had built over the previous 3 seasons. I had put in 3 sits between then and Friday night. I had seen 3 deer total and plenty of blowing and snorting. Two of those deer were within range Friday morning, but both were spooky and one must have seen me put down my range finder to double check for nubs in the pre-sunrise light, just minutes after official legal shooting time and passed. This was a big missed opportunity in my mind and it would affect me later during the hunt. 3+ hours of non-stop rain ended that morning hunt short and sealed the deal on myself being the only lease member coming out that weekend.
About 2 hours after I dozed off Friday night, I was awaken by rain hitting the tin roof of the cabin that I call my "mini hunting lodge." It had rained the previous night, but this rain was a little more like the rain that had holed me up in the cabin earlier between the morning and evening hunts. There hadn't been anything on radar before I dozed off, but the prediction for more rain must have materialized. I thought about the rifle I had brought. Maybe I should just sleep in and see if I can take the doe I had backstrapped 3 weeks prior and was convinced was the deer that winded me just hours earlier and put on a 3 minute circling temper tantrum of blowing and stomping at the very same blind I had wounded her. I was sticking to not pulling out the compound, but I was still not ruling out the rifle as a means to put venison in the freezer. I wasn’t feeling particularly good about my chances.
I would wake up a few more times during the early morning hours of Saturday. The rain was continuous. I reached over and disabled my 4:45am alarm and wondered whether or not I'd even be willing to go get the gun out of the truck and get all that boom-stick stuff ready to go. 5am hits and I am awake. The rain drops from the trees where still playing music on the tin roof, but the rain had ceased. I walked outside and checked the radar on my phone. I was covered in green with lots of yellow nearby, but at the moment there was a spot or two that would give me an opportunity to do something... anything. I ran back into the cabin and donned on my hunting clothes and put on my frogg togg jacket. I reached for the bow, and remembered to grab the bag of hand corn I had filled the night before. I set out in the pitch black morning. A flashlight was useless as the light rain would reflect it all back anyways.
As I walked down the hill from camp and reached the pasture, I realized quickly exactly how much rain we had received. I was slipping already on the road on my own two feet. As I took the turn that would take me through the pasture to the cattle panel blind I had constructed and brushed in only 2 months prior. The pasture was completely soaked and I was sinking into the ground at most every step. The cloud-cloud lightening showed me the picture... every old tire track, foot step, deer/hog print was it's own little pond/creek. The area under the feeder enclosed by cattle panel was just a pond.
I stopped and wondered what the hell was I doing here? This was different than the previous morning when I was going to hunt a more convenient spot and once there had determined the wind was wrong. The wind was good, but the weather and the ground was just a mess! I threw my hand corn in the primary shooting lane this time and all I could hear was the splashing of the corn when it hit the watery ground. I snuck inside the cattle panel blind and tried to get comfortable. It was 5:55am. It was dark, there was lightening, but at least the wind was at my face. I looked up to see the "stars in the roof." These were the holes that were in the 4mil plastic roof that were made by the cedar branches I had piled on top and crammed into the existing branches of the tree I had cut this blind into. I wondered if they would stream a steady state of water when it poured again. I thought of my statement to Bisch on the fact that I didn’t need to be completely dry in one… I thought about how hot and dry it was that day my 10yr old son and I put this thing together. The scratches on my arms and legs. Such a different day than today, where it was cold enough that I could see my breath, and so very very wet.
I wondered again why I was there when it began to down pour for nearly 15 minutes. I rationalized that I was there to tough it out. To set a baseline for what really constitutes a sucky hunting situation. The down pour was letting up and I checked my phone, It was 6:25 and the GPS had told me that sunrise was 6:50, so I was good to go for legal shooting hours. Of course, it was still pretty dark out there.
Then it happened so quickly. I don't recall how long it took after the rain had subsided a little, but light began to come quickly. A breeze through the window prompted me to pull my wool hat down over my ears a little more and I looked outside the window and there it was. Like the ninjas that they are, a deer had appeared in my shooting lane. Maybe 12 yards away, eating my hand corn in earnest. The first thing I noted about this deer was that it was too big to be a fawn or a nub, but it wasn't a big bodied deer. I figured it was either the doe that had appeared the same time yesterday morning, or the spike. That thought processes was nearly instantaneous. In fact, I don't recall thinking through it logically, it was as though I just knew it in my mind. I really couldn't see its head well, and my initial instinct was to let it settle in. But as I sat there, staring at its position for a couple seconds, I realize that the shot didn't get more prefect than what I was being presented with. It was slightly quartering away, head down facing away. It was straining somehow and had its onside front leg forward. I could see the white of the armpit just glaring through the pre-sunrise light. I remember asking myself why I wasn't drawing. I couldn't think of a good reason to wait. I raised my bow and drew to anchor. I aimed low this time, focusing on the white patch of hair exposed by the forward leg. The very bottom of this patch. Where white met the darkness of the wet mud below it. Next thing I know, I see my nock fly down range. The arrow hit mid body, but I didn’t know how far back or forward; other than it didn’t look far enough back to be liver. All I know is it looked good enough to make two holes but not completely pass through. It spun and hit the mud and flopped before getting up and running through a bush and out the other side and down towards........ the fence line!
I have a love-hate relationship with this spot. I have killed many a deer with a rifle. All of which have dropped on sight. In fact, I didn't really pay attention to the property lines until I had to track my first deer I flung an arrow at with my compound 2 years prior. She ran to the fence line, jumped the fence, across the road. Long story short, T-storms cut that track short and I never laid eyes on her although she was confirmed dead by a hunter on that lease much too late. Now, this deer didn't run that way, but it did run to a different fence line that was about 120 yards away, a fence line that I didn't have permission to cross. Why again was I hunting here?
I waited about 20 minutes before getting out of the blind and checking for blood. It was a long 20 minutes. Not of excitement, but of anxiety and trying to not get my hopes up. I had been burned once to often. The only thing that made me smile was the sound of gunshots ringing out one by one, probably 5 total in all as I waited. I was reminded that I chose to bowhunt during what is usually the best day to take a deer with a gun. As I walked up to the spot, I was rewarded with some really good sign, but some of that sign was bloody water, a reminder that this track might not be so easy. I worried about the rain again. As I headed the opposite direction back to camp, I prayed "God, please let it be on the property. God, please let it be on the property." I said it like 100 times too. I put away my chair, grabbed my binos in case I needed to scan past the fence. And headed back out in the light rain. I went to the other side of the bush it had run through and tried looking for sign. There wasn't a lot at first. There were tracks everywhere, so it was hard to find its specific foot prints. But then I found it, blood on another rock. I scanned and found some more another 5 yards away. This let me see what direction it was taking... still towards the fence.... 10 yards later I saw what looked like skid marks in the mud turning towards the pond, away from the fence. I didn't see much blood but the skid marks weren't full of water. Then there was some blood, and more blood between two trees that was the head of a trail that continued on a path away from the fence. I started to feel more optimistic. As I walked through the opening, I saw blood. I looked right for an instant, and there he lied. I threw my hands into the air... by Black Window in one hand and looked straight up and said "THANK YOU GOD!!!!"
Mind you, I didn't get the shakes when I watched the deer run off, I had been in this situation before. My body knew better than to get excited. I resisted the urge to text anybody... not even my wife. There were too many variables to declare victory. But I will never forget that sight of that deer under the tree, with the zwickey pointing up in the air on the opposite side. I could feel the smile on my face. Even the realization that it wasn't a doe, it wasn't a spike, it was a young, likely 2 year old buck wasn't enough to squash the emotion that I had done it. All those evenings in the back yard flinging arrow after arrow after arrow. All those frustrating First Shot challenge misses. The 2 hour drives to shoot 3D in the sping. The tweaking, the shooting, the sore bow arm, the shooting, the mosquitoes, had all finally brought me to this moment.
I called my wife. I knew she was driving to Giddings at that moment, taking my son to a martial arts tournament. I mustered some calmness. In a subdued voice I told her that I was coming home today. That the weather was just too much. That the rain had gotten to me. I was just done.... oh, and I just killed a deer with my recurve
“I’m sorry… wait… what!!!??!???”It took me some time to get the cart, haul it back to camp, get some pictures, quarter it, pack up, etc and literally slide my way out of camp. I didn’t get to celebrate with a beer as I usually do. No pictures of me with the deer as I was by myself. However, I am very thankful for one thing... that I did have some buddies to share the experience with that morning. I can't say enough good things about the guys on the trad forum. This is a journey that I wouldn't have been able to really taken without you guys. If I had your number in my phone... you got a text that morning! If you weren't, I really wanted to post up to the forum, but my service out of the lease is spotty due to the terrain. I know this story is really long, but I just felt compelled to share it; after all, most of you are part of that story in some form or fashion.
(I'll post pics shortly)
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