Its been an interesting season for me. Lots of days hunting (20+ I think), and lots of deer watched. Overall I was looking for a personal best or an old warrior past his prime. Given the rain this year, I was seeing deer, but not in high numbers, and older deer were staying clear of blinds. This week following a couple of cold snaps, and post-rut nutritional needs started pulling deer I hadn't seen into feeders. And so I sat earlier this week watching Jack Ryan on Amazon Prime waiting for a feeder to go off, but really expecting only to take a few pictures of some deer.
My video watching was somewhat rudely interrupted by a bachelor group of a 2, 3, and 4 year olds who I guess thought my hand corn could be a pre-throw snack. I recognized all the characters in front of me, and returned to Jack Ryan chasing a terrorist through the French Alps. Perhaps a few minutes later I glanced up, and froze. There probably 15 yards from the blind window was what I personally refer to as a "tank". He outweighed everyone there by 20-30#. He was pushing the young guys off the hand corn, and sucking it up like a vacuum cleaner. He was run down, but still the obvious boss. So began the debate. Looking at chest, head, hips, back, and lower legs. I began texting flufster and fishndude sending pics as I debated. Aging deer on our place can be challenging as their bodies have changed a lot due to going from years of drought, to 2 years of epic rain. However, I've been fortunate enough to put quite a few deer on the ground on this lease, and so have gotten to ground check guesses. This has led to some analytical things I look for, and even more instinct. Some are going to scoff, but I have gone with my gut a lot in the past few years on age. And my gut was saying this sucker was an older deer, and had poor potential. I judged him to be a good management deer, to punch my lease "trophy tag" on.
I picked up the Halon, and nocked a QAD Exodus tipped Injexion. I had time, I took a deep breath, and reached for the range finder. 18 yards. Raised bow.... he turns, no shot. Relax. He turns again, broadside. Draw. String in corner of mouth : check, nose slightly touching string : check, center sight housing in peep : check. I moved my thumb to my trigger, pre-loaded and started boring a hole past my sight pin and behind his shoulder.. pull, breathe, pull.... *click* *whoosh* *thud*
My lit nock disappeared behind his shoulder in a blur. He was also a blur, but I could seea red a hole center-punched in his chest. He of course bolted at full speed, but into a field I could watch him for a good while. After what was maybe 100ish yards he stoped, turned, stood, then took off. His front legs gave out and he took a nose dive. There was a cloud of dust and I lost sight of his rack. Down, over, a long patient season come to an end. I was fist pumping and doing a mini dance in the blind. Given what I had seen, I began packing my gear. There was still plenty of light, and I wanted to get some good photos before I lost the light. I was also making the 3 hour drive home that night, so was eager to get moving. And that's when things got... well... weird.
I was just zipping up my pack, when my ears pricked up, and the hair stood up on my neck. What I was hearing had frozen me in place. I heard heavy hoof beats on the ground, raspy breathing, and a gurgling sound. Its hard to even describe, but that's the best way I know how. In what felt like slow motion I looked up from my pack and was awestruck. There stumbling past the blind, looking like he was on ice without skates, is the hit buck. His legs are each on their own auto-pilot, no coordination, but in the most incredible act of sheer will I've ever witnessed, he's moving forward. Blood is pouring from his chest. I'm in shock, I'm frozen in time, my brain is having trouble processing what I'm seeing. Two arguments are arcing across my synapses in my head. The first argument is "Shoot him again! He's at 20 yards, send one!". The second argument is "He's done. He's leaking like a faucet, even if he walks off, Bowie is going to find him easily" (Bowie is my pit pound puppy that pulls trailing duty when needed). I was quite literally vapor locked, and being a tech geek a third choice was executed. I grabbed my phone and hit record in video mode as the deer stumbled away from me. He took a few steps and slumped forward against a t-post. I hit stop recording, and I'm sure looked like an idiot. For some number of seconds I just stared at the deer laying 22 yards in front of me. My brain was still processing what I had witnessed.
The deer had been double lunged, run 100 yards, crashed, then gotten back up, come back 100 yards and then gone down for good. I'm somewhat of a romantic when it comes to hunting. I have a deep respect for the animals I hunt, and always feel a small glimpse of sorrow when I remove that spark of life. Its just respect that let's me know I'm still grounded. As I was quartering and filling the cooler later that night, I made another observation. Usually at the end, when I remove the head I'll get a good amount of blood when I circle the neck with my knife before detaching the head. In this case I didn't get a drop. The buck had left it all in that field. I had a 3 hour drive home in the dark to ponder the events of the evening. This buck will always hold a very special place in my memory. I witnessed an act of sheer will and determination that left a mark on my mind. An old warrior who simply refused to succumb. Physically what he did was impossible, but his heart was much bigger.
So this story is a salute to a monarch who inspired me with his will and toughness. We as humans so many times give up way too soon, and this deer will remind me of pushing through for a long time to come.
My video watching was somewhat rudely interrupted by a bachelor group of a 2, 3, and 4 year olds who I guess thought my hand corn could be a pre-throw snack. I recognized all the characters in front of me, and returned to Jack Ryan chasing a terrorist through the French Alps. Perhaps a few minutes later I glanced up, and froze. There probably 15 yards from the blind window was what I personally refer to as a "tank". He outweighed everyone there by 20-30#. He was pushing the young guys off the hand corn, and sucking it up like a vacuum cleaner. He was run down, but still the obvious boss. So began the debate. Looking at chest, head, hips, back, and lower legs. I began texting flufster and fishndude sending pics as I debated. Aging deer on our place can be challenging as their bodies have changed a lot due to going from years of drought, to 2 years of epic rain. However, I've been fortunate enough to put quite a few deer on the ground on this lease, and so have gotten to ground check guesses. This has led to some analytical things I look for, and even more instinct. Some are going to scoff, but I have gone with my gut a lot in the past few years on age. And my gut was saying this sucker was an older deer, and had poor potential. I judged him to be a good management deer, to punch my lease "trophy tag" on.
I picked up the Halon, and nocked a QAD Exodus tipped Injexion. I had time, I took a deep breath, and reached for the range finder. 18 yards. Raised bow.... he turns, no shot. Relax. He turns again, broadside. Draw. String in corner of mouth : check, nose slightly touching string : check, center sight housing in peep : check. I moved my thumb to my trigger, pre-loaded and started boring a hole past my sight pin and behind his shoulder.. pull, breathe, pull.... *click* *whoosh* *thud*
My lit nock disappeared behind his shoulder in a blur. He was also a blur, but I could seea red a hole center-punched in his chest. He of course bolted at full speed, but into a field I could watch him for a good while. After what was maybe 100ish yards he stoped, turned, stood, then took off. His front legs gave out and he took a nose dive. There was a cloud of dust and I lost sight of his rack. Down, over, a long patient season come to an end. I was fist pumping and doing a mini dance in the blind. Given what I had seen, I began packing my gear. There was still plenty of light, and I wanted to get some good photos before I lost the light. I was also making the 3 hour drive home that night, so was eager to get moving. And that's when things got... well... weird.
I was just zipping up my pack, when my ears pricked up, and the hair stood up on my neck. What I was hearing had frozen me in place. I heard heavy hoof beats on the ground, raspy breathing, and a gurgling sound. Its hard to even describe, but that's the best way I know how. In what felt like slow motion I looked up from my pack and was awestruck. There stumbling past the blind, looking like he was on ice without skates, is the hit buck. His legs are each on their own auto-pilot, no coordination, but in the most incredible act of sheer will I've ever witnessed, he's moving forward. Blood is pouring from his chest. I'm in shock, I'm frozen in time, my brain is having trouble processing what I'm seeing. Two arguments are arcing across my synapses in my head. The first argument is "Shoot him again! He's at 20 yards, send one!". The second argument is "He's done. He's leaking like a faucet, even if he walks off, Bowie is going to find him easily" (Bowie is my pit pound puppy that pulls trailing duty when needed). I was quite literally vapor locked, and being a tech geek a third choice was executed. I grabbed my phone and hit record in video mode as the deer stumbled away from me. He took a few steps and slumped forward against a t-post. I hit stop recording, and I'm sure looked like an idiot. For some number of seconds I just stared at the deer laying 22 yards in front of me. My brain was still processing what I had witnessed.
The deer had been double lunged, run 100 yards, crashed, then gotten back up, come back 100 yards and then gone down for good. I'm somewhat of a romantic when it comes to hunting. I have a deep respect for the animals I hunt, and always feel a small glimpse of sorrow when I remove that spark of life. Its just respect that let's me know I'm still grounded. As I was quartering and filling the cooler later that night, I made another observation. Usually at the end, when I remove the head I'll get a good amount of blood when I circle the neck with my knife before detaching the head. In this case I didn't get a drop. The buck had left it all in that field. I had a 3 hour drive home in the dark to ponder the events of the evening. This buck will always hold a very special place in my memory. I witnessed an act of sheer will and determination that left a mark on my mind. An old warrior who simply refused to succumb. Physically what he did was impossible, but his heart was much bigger.
So this story is a salute to a monarch who inspired me with his will and toughness. We as humans so many times give up way too soon, and this deer will remind me of pushing through for a long time to come.
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