The heat was brutal Saturday afternoon in northern DeWitt County, but my son decided he wanted to go sit in the box blind and look for one of our target bucks we called Curly Joe. Despite the redneck AC going full blast, we were both dripping within minutes of getting in the blind.
The feeder went off at 5 and right on cue, Curly Joe and his cronies were inside the feed pen a short time after the last kernel hit the dirt. Unfortunately the buck refused to sit still long enough for my son to get his crossbow settled on the sweet spot and after what seemed an eternity of trying to get on him, CJ was gone chasing some does that had ventured into the area. I was heart broken because I thought our hunt was over.
Thankfully, I was wrong. Roughly 30 minutes after disappearing. CJ made a 2nd, short lived appearance. He got into the feed pen and grabbed a few bits of corn, but guess he wasn't feeling it and meandered off into the brush without ever presenting a shot. Again, I went from excited to devastated. The disappointment was also obvious in my boys face.
By this time we were both done, drained emotionally with significant puddles under each of our chairs from sweating profusely. I sent a text to my wife at 6:42 telling her if we didn't see any more activity in the next 20 minutes that we would be heading back to camp. At 6:52, much to our surprise Curly Joe was gracing us for a third time. After the two previous practice runs earlier in the hunt, we had it down this time. My son got situated on his crossbow as I eased the window open. He squeezed the trigger and I watch his bolt disappear into the crease of his shoulder. Immediately I see blood flowing. Curly Joe jumped the fence and ran to our right. Just as he was rounding a corner and disappearing from sight I see him starting to lose his balance. I knew we had a short tracking job on our hand at this point.
The feeder went off at 5 and right on cue, Curly Joe and his cronies were inside the feed pen a short time after the last kernel hit the dirt. Unfortunately the buck refused to sit still long enough for my son to get his crossbow settled on the sweet spot and after what seemed an eternity of trying to get on him, CJ was gone chasing some does that had ventured into the area. I was heart broken because I thought our hunt was over.
Thankfully, I was wrong. Roughly 30 minutes after disappearing. CJ made a 2nd, short lived appearance. He got into the feed pen and grabbed a few bits of corn, but guess he wasn't feeling it and meandered off into the brush without ever presenting a shot. Again, I went from excited to devastated. The disappointment was also obvious in my boys face.
By this time we were both done, drained emotionally with significant puddles under each of our chairs from sweating profusely. I sent a text to my wife at 6:42 telling her if we didn't see any more activity in the next 20 minutes that we would be heading back to camp. At 6:52, much to our surprise Curly Joe was gracing us for a third time. After the two previous practice runs earlier in the hunt, we had it down this time. My son got situated on his crossbow as I eased the window open. He squeezed the trigger and I watch his bolt disappear into the crease of his shoulder. Immediately I see blood flowing. Curly Joe jumped the fence and ran to our right. Just as he was rounding a corner and disappearing from sight I see him starting to lose his balance. I knew we had a short tracking job on our hand at this point.
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