It all came together for me this morning after a somewhat frustrating first month of the Ohio bowseason.
I've been hunting a pretty well-used piece of public ground here in Ohio. I scouted it while bowfishing the creek that runs through it all summer (killed loads of carp!) and found a few promising spots.
Opening day, I went to the most promising one and there was a ladder stand. No big deal. I only saw two hunters that day and they were walking out. Then as the season wore on it seemed that every spot I picked out would have a stand or a ground blind in it the next time I went there. And I've been walking around a mile to get to these places.
So Monday, I tried a ridge betwen two of the previous sites I had abandoned because of the stands that appeared there. The Mountain Dew bottles littered under them told me these guys probably didn't care about scent control ot serious hunting.
Up on the ridge there is a pretty thick thicket of multiflora, buckbrush and oaks. Three trails ran through it. I saw four does on one of them but had no shot because of the brush. So before leaving on Monday I cleared myself a shooting lane to each trail.
This morning I get there and have to cross the swollen creek (we've gotten some decent rain lately). Thankfully I had waders with me. I got way back in there to my thicket on the ridge and sat down nice and quiet on my stool.
Sure enough, about 45 minutes later I catch movement to my left and see a doe walking steadily to my shooting lane. I got my bow up, without standing (I practiced shooting from the stool). Fingers on the string I waited for her to get to my lane.
I drew as she stepped into it and then I bleated...
She stopped.
And for the life of me, I don't remember letting go of the string...all I remember is boring a hole into her chest with my eyes and suddenly my arrow appeared there. It sunk in about two thirds of the way and she was off crashing into the brush.
Crash! Crash! Silence for a count of ten and then another crash, then silence.
Well, I had to sit and shake for a while and enjoy the rush...then I walked slowly to the spot where she was standing...18 steps away. No blood, but I wasn't worried because I knew the shot was great and was confident she crashed. I followed the game trail and 15 yards later found my arrow, bloody from the Zwickey Eskimo up past halfway and bent beyond future use.
The blood began to pick up from there and within another 20 yards I found her. The 2016 had gone in one side and the broadhead had sliced out the other side...a perfect double lung and the best shot I have ever made But the arrow had worked out on the side I shot her from.
And there I enjoyed the moment, gave her her last bite and thanked her for her gift.
I won't go on about the nearly three hour drag...it was long but a pleasure. This is my second trad deer, but I certainly value her as much as the first. It seems this just keeps getting better and better.
By the way, the bow is a 50lb Ancient Spirits Thunderhawk, black locust riser and aged osage limbs with an osage flare in the riser.
Topic: Wow, what a morning in Ohio! (pic) (Read 1288 times)
