LOL - not for long - I can't keep it quiet like that.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Again I saw Deer moving through the thick brush and trees to my left front. About the same time the Spikehorn decided to go join them, I realized there appeared to be at least three more Deer. Again they started moving across my front at an angle towards the Golf Course but the Spike must have conveyed something to them as they all changed course towards my shooting area. He swung around behind them to follow. As they moved into the clear and near-clear areas dirctly in front of me, I could see there were actually six Deer, counting him. Yes, Sir, for the next 25 minutes I had six deer in front of me milling around. Twelve eyeballs, and that pretty Spikehorn acting like the biggest buck in the woods, watching over his herd of two medium sized doe and three fawns - one with very faint spots now. That rascally Spikehorn was stil, doing his best to fake out whatever that was at the base of my tree, with all the maneuvers in his young book. The fawns were less skittish but also were staying pretty darned alert, what with him setting the mood. While those four gave me chance after chance, the two doe just plan never did give me a shot. they would come in from the perimeter and as soon as he or a fawn would move they'd dodge back out - first one and then the other. Finally, after the twenty five minutes of exquisite pain, I took stock. I'd enjoyed about as much of this as my poor ol' heart could stand. It couldn't last forever, no matter how much I had settled into enjoying the game. Again, it is last night of bow season, night before Full Moon, I am on the ground, scoreless, and being watched by all these deer without being busted yet, and I don't want to get busted, perhaps resulting in no shot and screaming deer running off in fright over this site. It didn't take me long to decide that I was going to take the next opportunity that wasn't on the Spike or the Fading Spots Fawn. One of the fawns looked good for it, so I started working my bow and knocked arrow up and into place, a little at a time, while watching the spike looking up at me and then down at the grond. Once in position I split vision between the Spike and the Fawn while sneaking in a full draw. Thankfully I remembered to focus full attention at the last minute on the spot I'd already picked on the closest fawn. The arrow was away and almost imediatly the Pumpkin-whop sound of a solid hit at 11 yards told its tale. Miraculously, all five of the other Deer bolted to the right front into the thick, and my prize went to the left. Not a sound out of any of them - that's gotta be good for the site. I could see my 1913, tipped with the incredible Silver Flame, hardly having been put to any task, stuck in the dirt right in line with where I had pictured on the off side of the fawn. I heard a little thump to the left where the hit deer had run - but even at that there was still that one second when you say, "I couldn't have shot under her!" I moved away from the tree and out into the clear road, As I splashed across the puddle I could see the reassurance of the blood soaking the fletching and shaft. All was right in my world. I repeated my usual silent (most of the time), "Thank you, Lord." and retrieved my arrow. While putting the blood soaked arrow back in my bow quiver, I looked over where the hit Deer had run. At that moment it crossed my mind, "If that isn't a log there, that could very well be my Deer". I angled towards the suspect lighter hump but hadn't covered half of the scant 20 yards before it was apparent it was indeed not a log. "Thank you - again, Lord."
It was still daylight at 6:15 as I grabbed the small Deer's legs and dragged it out of there as quickly and with as little disturbance as possible. What a special hunt for this ol' hoss!
Topic: Li'l Ol' Man, Li'l Ol' Deer (Read 9898 times)
