All righty then, lol, technology is beyond even this 21 year old, maybe thats why I shoot a stickbow...
After a warm and eventful opening moring, fate smiled upon Maryland Bowhunters in the form of a surpise cold-snap.
Friday found me in my favorite ladder stand, overlooking a well used trail some 15 yards to my left. Slowly, the inky-black night gave way to both morning and the sounds of the marsh. The morning passed slowly, until an odd leaf crunched.
Slowly turning, I picked out an ear from among the briars behind me, then a hoof, then four does. As if rehearsed, the lead doe followed the trail on a string. She was even courtious enough to pause behind a large oak, allowing me to stand and swing the bow around.
As she stepped out, my eyes locked on her side and the limbs came back in that familiar, deadly pose. The string slipped and I knew she was mine... but instead of the gentle thump of a well placed arrow, it sounded like a .22 had barked from beneath my stand. Immediately, it was all to clear; I hadn't leaned far enough back to allow my bottom limb to clear the stand, and my yellow fletches in the dirt were a poiniant reminder. She made four quick bounds up the hill, then turned to look back at the glowing Lumenock.
With her attention diverted, I nocked another arrow, and leaned as far forward as I dared. As her front leg moved forward, I drew again, bound not to make the same mistake twice.
After the arrow hit, she made it barely twenty yards. The Snuffer tipped Easton zipped through both lungs and the top of her heart before exiting directly through the center of her shoulder blade. As always, the effectiveness of a well placed arrow amazes me.
Thanks for everything Gang, as with every animal I'm able to take, you guys seen to be along for the ride...
Topic: Second Chances (Read 347 times)
