10-28-2020

Wednesday, October 28th, 2020.

The past week of work had worn me down to almost nothing. My patience was gone for the world around me as well as my extroverted personality. I needed a break.

I had planned to go out to a family friend’s property with my bow to see if I could fill my first deer tag with a stick and string. It was an antlerless tag and there were a number of does running around the property and the owner was more than happy for the numbers to be thinned. However, going out there with my bow, I wasn’t sure I would be of much help.

I pulled off the gravel road into the private drive and parked next to the tree that shaded a four-wheeler. It was just after 4pm as I made my way along the tree-line, parallel to the hills in the field that split the friend’s property before it turned into the neighbor’s. I paused and caught movement between the peaks of two small hills in the field. I pulled my Marsupial Gear bino-harness forward to expose my Leupold BX-2 Cascades which showed me that there were already deer in the opposite side of the field. I veered in the direction of the deer and ditched by pack and boots so I could make an easier and quieter approach. I crested the top of one of the rises and saw nothing. Unsure if the deer moved onto the neighbor’s property, I scanned the fence-line. Still nothing. I decided that the best move from there was to get into the shade of the trees and walk along the fence. Before long I saw a mature doe with a yearling grazing away from me, over 100 yards away. With my boots still off I was able to take calculated steps avoiding the dry fall leaves. 89 yards. My adrenaline was pumping as my legs wobbled with each advance. 83 yards. The yearling turned and stared in my direction. I dropped to a knee and froze. Ears flicked, tail waved, head dropped again to graze. Slow movement forward. 78 yards. I turn as a UPS truck drives right by the fence on the gravel road I am parallel to. I imagine what it would look like to see me, arrow nocked, kneeling in the shade, while two deer graze not a football field from me. Another sequence of slow movements. 74 yards. Both the doe and her yearling turn in my direction, get uneasy, and trot over the next rise and disappear. My first stalk of the season ends with nothing to show for it but dirty socks. After confirming that the two deer spooked onto the neighbor’s property, I double back for my gear.

More than 30 minutes had passed since I first spotted the deer and I was eager to find a spot to sit and wait in ambush for the remainder of the evening. Dusk was at 6:34pm and I was guessing if anything else would be in the fields, it would be there between 5:30 and 6. Leaving my pack and boots at the lone tree with a tree stand in it, I found my spot and waited, ensuring that the wind would not ruin my set-up. The evening continued and there was no sign of anything. I was starting to wonder if things had changed since I had been here last, and if the deer no longer funneled through the trail I was sitting. I remembered a video I watched where a hunter was completely oblivious to the deer that were walking right by him. I wondered how many deer I had missed on hunting trips—no way to know. I told myself at 6:15 if there was still no sign of deer life I would head over to the lone tree, lace my Danner’s up and glass the other portions of the fields that I couldn’t see. I checked my phone to see how close it was to 6:15 already. It was 6:08. I figured that was close enough and looked back to the lone tree. Something caught my eye farther to the left and I almost laughed out loud. 5 deer were making their way along the rise headed towards the lone tree. Between us was a decline, followed by an incline which led right up to the rise the deer were on. I smiled, thinking that I could have been the guy on the video with the deer walking right by him as he was none the wiser. I ranged the group—103 yards away and open fields that provided no opportunity to hide my movement. Time was running out and so I decided that something was better than nothing. I started down the hill aiming below the tree stand.

I tried my best to pretend I didn’t see the deer, thinking I would appear less intimidating that way. Through my peripherals I could see 3 out of the 5 deer immediately run back onto the neighboring property once I stood up and started moving—2 stayed and looked curious. I kept walking as I reassured myself that I only needed one to stick around. Eventually I got low enough to where the two remaining deer could no longer see me. I turned and walked straight towards the top of the rise, knowing the two curious deer were on the other side. As I neared the top, I saw ears and then a head—70 yards. Tails flipped, turned, and trotted off to 102 yards. Curiosity only gets you so far. I knelt with my Bear Marshal in my left hand, horizontal across my legs, and my rangefinder in my right hand—drawn at the ready. One of the does kept her eyes on me, and once I stopped moving, she started making her way back towards me. I ranged her every few steps, adrenaline pumping again as the numbers got smaller. 102 quickly turned back into 70, and then 65, 61, 57, 54, 50, 48…I slowly set my rangefinder down and subtracted a yard with every two steps she took. I clipped into my D-loop and started turning my bow vertically. Too much movement—she spooked back out to 100 yards. I sighed and shook my head at the blown opportunity. I wasn’t going to get many chances like that. I knelt taller, turned my bow vertically, and picked up the range finder once more.

The doe grazed for a second next to the other one that had been feeding this entire time. She raised her head and looked my way. I had been frozen for a few seconds and she still didn’t know what I was. She trotted right back into 50 yards, then 46, then 44. I set my rangefinder down and clipped in. The doe flicked her tail and jumped a bit as if she was trying to bluff-charge me and see if I would move. I stayed frozen. She took another step forward and then dropped her head, turned, and started grazing. I raised my bow and drew back, floating my 40 pin a little high and behind the front shoulder. I was shaking because of the adrenaline, but I allowed the movement and continued to hold where I wanted. I let out a breath slowly as I released the trigger. The doe ducked and whirled at the sound of the release, but my arrow thwacked as it found it’s mark. I watched as she ran off, seemingly unharmed, back in the direction of the neighboring property. Scenarios immediately ran in my mind; would she expire quickly, just out of sight on the opposite side of the rise? Was she on the neighbor’s property? Would they allow me to find her? Was my family friend going to be disappointed and think I was foolish for trying to harvest a deer with my bow? I sent him a text that I shot a doe and heard a hit but was going to give it some time before I went looking for an arrow. I walked over to the lone tree, started lacing my boots as I called my wife.

I gave her the play-by-play while also voicing my concerns. I was not feeling very confident as I turned on my headlamp and searched for my arrow. I walked over to where I thought she had been standing and stood there worried. No arrow, no blood. I continued pacing around to no avail. The family friend had told me to call him if I needed help. I dialed his number and told him the shot scenario, where she ran, and the lack of sign I was finding. He told me the name of the neighbors and informed me he would look around tomorrow, but he was busy at the moment and he would be in the morning as well. I let him know I was going to keep looking, but I appreciated the help and the reassurance. I turned back to retrace my steps again but wasn’t holding my breath as it was now completely dark.

New life came into me as a long glimmer reflected off the ground. My arrow sat where it must have passed through the doe. Further examining revealed that there was good, bright blood all the way across the arrow. A good hit. I let my family friend know that I had recovered the arrow and that the hit was confirmed. I put the arrow back in my quiver and continued towards the fence. Since I still couldn’t find a blood trail, I figured that the doe had to have crossed the fence somewhere, so I would walk the edge until I found some sort of sign. It didn’t take long before I found a big dug out section where the deer went under the fence. A heavy trail of blood went under the fence and across the road onto the neighbor’s property. I walked back in the direction of my truck—energized by what I was seeing. I started to jog, anxious to get to the neighbor’s and ask permission to find my deer.

Hopping in my truck, I turned up the gravel road in the direction of the neighbor’s. Headlights were stopped partway down the road and I slowed down as I was being waved at. The driver asked if I shot a buck, I told him it was a doe. He replied that it had run over onto his property and I was relieved as I said I was just on my way to find him to see if I could try to retrieve it. He generously told me to follow him as he backed up and offered to help find it.

Upon exiting our individual trucks, the older son introduced himself to me as his father went to get a flashlight. He told me they saw my headlamp walking the fence and wanted to see what was going on since there had been a lot of poaching activity in the last couple of weeks. He then asked if I was using a bow since they didn’t hear a shot. I confirmed that I was and that this would be my first archery deer. They congratulated me as we quickly picked the blood trail back up and headed along the doe’s path. Multiple times the father expressed his shock that the doe made it as far as she was going because of how constant and heavy the blood was. This both reassured and worried me. I was thankful for the blood trail but worried we wouldn’t be able to find her as the brush suddenly got very thick. The dad broke through the thickets and thorns and informed us that the trail turned back up to the left towards where we had come from. The son and I doubled back to see if the doe had squirmed her way through and out another trail. We shined our lights in the thick patch, trying to see if she had died in the section between us all. After nerve-racking moments of silence, the father said, “Oh wouldn’t you know it. She’s laying here next to me!” Not five feet from the dad was my doe, headed back down in the opposite direction of the blood trail. Relief and excitement filled my body.

The son helped me drag the deer out and load it into my truck. I expressed my gratitude before driving back to the family friend’s property to field dress my doe and start the real work. The work of a successful hunt, a successful shot, a successful track. Meat in the freezer and a huge accomplishment in my personal hunting journey.

I drove home that night restored.