This is what I call my snowstorm buck. One afternoon near my camp in Michigans U.P. I was sitting near a scrape on a typical late fall day. I had been watching this scape for several days hoping to catch the buck that made it when he came in to check it.
About an hour before dark it started to snow, light at first but soon it was coming down so hard you couldn't see 30yd's. At this point the ground was bare but the snow was coming so heavy it soon covered the ground. I was about to head in because I thought the deer wouldn't be moving in this storm when I saw him coming through the white screen like a ghost out of the fog or in this case snow.
I barely had time to get ready and put an arrow on the string of my 72# osage selfbow. As he circled the scrape to get downwind I sent a cedar shaft tipped with one of Glenn Parkers big two blade broadheads. The shot took him in the neck and he went down thrashing. I was elated for just a few seconds and then much to my surprise he was up and running. He headed down hill towards the "ArmStrong Creek" and I heard him splash as he crossed into the heavy cedar swamp.
I took up the trail right away because I thought I'd lose it in the heavy snow if I waited. He was leaving a pretty good trail in the snow but after I got across the ArmStrong into the dark swamp there was no snow on the ground yet and the trail was hard to follow. With my flashlight and on my hands and knees I picked up his trai and slowly followed deeper into the swamp.
After losing the trail several times then finding it again I finely came onto him well after dark. Having no rope and too far from camp to drag him out that night, I dressed him and hung him off the ground the best that I could with my bowstring. As it turned out if I hadn't hung him off the ground that night he would have been buried in the snow and I may not have found him.
I got back to camp at 11:00pm that night as it continued to snow very hard. There was no one to greet me as I was camping alone. I crawled into my sleeping bag not realizing what was in store for me the next day.
When I stepped outside the next morning I couldn't believe the amount of snow that had accumulated during the night. A foot and a half of the fluffy white stuff lay on the ground. I thought, how in the world am I going to get my deer out of that swamp, and am I even going to be able to find him.
I knew there was a fellow bowhunter camped a mile or so from me and he had a canoe. I thought if he would let me borrow his canoe I could float down the "ArmStrong Creek" and get close to my buck. I pushed snow with the bumper of my 4x4 to the fellows camp and found him snuggled by the fire enjoying a cup of coffee.
It ended up the fellow offered to go with me and help. I gladly accepted his offer and luckly we remembered to bring a camera. Here is the results.
Topic: Old Duffers were young once. (Read 43784 times)
