The Red Wagon

[wapiti792]

It's not a wagon really, just someone's DIY version of fence mending trailer long forgotten on a farm I am fortunate to hunt. It has become an identifiable landmark of sorts on a tall ridge, a spot I have climbed and hunted for 20 years. The numbers of close encounters here with big deer have been no accident as there are ridges running into ag fields, a pecan grove and a large pasture. Basically it is the center of the deer universe, a hub inside a wagon wheel of sorts, with the wagon being the epicenter.

The wagon has been home to many creatures. I have shot a groundhog here with my old longbow and missed a couple more before they scampered to the hole hidden by the wagon. I killed a fat male coyote as he sniffed around the wagon looking for a meal, and this morning, before the climax of the tale, a small striped skunk found a place to sleep off the nights rambles in groundhog hole beneath.

It is just a piece of junk in the woods, but there is magic here. On this cold November morning after a horrid fall of misses and almost, it become a place of retribution. One finds a place like this after 30 years of bow hunting, even when you've been hunting it for 20 years.

[JakeD]

 

[wapiti792]

Earlier in the fall I had run into some bad luck. Well actually good luck with bad shooting. It started in September with a nice cow elk inside the red zone that I managed to skip an arrow off of. Right over the shoulder and way too high. I found blood and it made me sick. I knew this animal had nothing to worry about but I sure did worry. It kept me up at night even after I got home to Illinois.

I think that is it too. I think many times a negative outcome starts to influence our positive outlook. Before long the clouds form and if you aren't careful a full fledged storm starts, one of self doubt and indecision. In November I killed a nice doe and thought it was over. Then, when my confidence was back, and with my hunting mentor in a stand a couple football fields away, I gut shot and lost a doe. The clouds were raging. I had not lost an animal like that, a fatal hit and an animal given to the yotes, in a very long time. Browning tried to make me feel better and as bid him fairwell he told me something that a friend told him: "Get back in there Champ!"

The following week on my way to the Red Wagon I bumped into an old friend. He was sound asleep with the rut in full swing. He is an old deer with many miles on him, a giant bodied Midwest tank that I really wanted to put a tag on. The problem was I had a storm going on, and even when I slipped to 20 yards and waited an hour for him to stand, I still couldn't justify shooting him. Too much in the way and the wrong angle, when he stood I had to just watch him walk away towards the Red Wagon...

[wapiti792]

That evening I visited with my guests and tried to hide my Thousand Yard stare. Self doubt had kept me from killing a very good buck, in his bed of all things. I realized I made excuses and let failure past influence my success future. Over a nice three fingers of Bullet with my buddy Dr. B I told him I wished it'd been him there. Even with his wheelie thing, I wished it'd been him. He reminded me that I was the only guy he knew that snuck in on bedded mature deer. His flattering remark only lifted my spirit a little. The next evening that moment of levity would come crashing down.

We hunted another farm I had permission on because of a south wind. It was no good for the red wagon and damn was it cold. 5 inches of fresh snow kept things quiet on my walk in, and after climbing a familiar oak, I had a heck of a hunt. I passed up several young 8 points on the stand. As the light got closer to the end a big buck I didn't know stood on the ridge up wind looking for does. I quietly grunted and got his attention. Another and he was on his way.

[wapiti792]

On a string he came and just at the licking branch where the last buck made his mark, a scant 16 yards away, he gave me what I needed. I was extremely nervous, I remember that. I tried to focus and had to redraw. This extra movement caught his eye and as I loosed the arrow he was turning into the shot. To my horror the arrow arrived low, just under the brisket.

He returned to his perch on the ridge not quite knowing what happened. I glassed as he hopped the fence and  began to work the ridge behind me. Honestly he was the largest deer I have had that close. I had no photos or sheds or even sign to know he was on this farm. He just appeared like some phantom and took me with him.

Climbing down I realized I had an almost clean arrow. Hair in the fletching and no blood. I sat down my climber and just shook. That's all I remember. The walk out in the cold was an blurr.

[23feetupandhappy]

Oh Boy!!!!!

 

[Joeabowhunter]

 

[wapiti792]

The next day dawned and I decided to sleep in. My guests got settled into their sets on my little farm and I spent some time inside the barn working on form. Just the basics at 15 yards. The bullseye was getting worn out and the fact the distance was just a yard different from my shave job last night was not lost on me. I couldn't believe it. It made things worse knowing I had lost focus and didn't see the arrow hitting the hair I was looking at.

I spent the next week with failure to launch. Self pity and negativity messes with a bowhunters head. After going back to work for a few days Thanksgiving morning I gave it a whirl again. I sat and enjoyed the time in God's country. At the end of the sit a fat fox squirrel got inside the red zone. The 600 grain arrow ate his lunch. I went home with a squirrel to clean and some confidence.

The next morning I had a wind I needed for the Red Wagon. It was cold and clear when I threw the climber on and made my way to where this yarn started...

[Bvas]

Keep the yarn spinning

[ron w]

Well, I'm on the edge of my seat now..........

[Terry Green]

 

[wapiti792]

I snapped the above pic right at shooting light. I wanted to soak up this day on my favorite ridge, knowing I had already had a great year. The animals cooperated, and I had put myself into the path of a great deer. In addition I had so many 2 and 3 year olds that had read the script. I felt confident that had my shooting been good, had my mind been right, I'd be tagged out. The bedded buck I made excuses to pass and the giant from the week prior would be in my freezer. That is the problem really, the mind. The Samurai used a term called "Mushin" or "no mind" to describe their focus with battle. The mind gets in the way. Nerves impede the single minded focus we traditional archers need to complete the shot. I can assure you this year I had "many mind".

Soon after taking the photo I reflected on exactly where I was. The buck I should have shot in his bed played in my mind. Like a ghost I looked past the Red Wagon and saw the same buck floating along the bottom of the ridge on a collision coarse with the Red Wagon, and ultimately, me.

The week prior when I had climbed here after passing him I found a scrape the size of a truck hood and a couple of magnum rubs. I reached for my bow and he stopped to work the scrape to the east 50 yards. After approving of his work he seemed to nod, turn, and take the deep trail that dissected the ridge. That same trail would carry him mere yards from my selected climbing tree.

[wapiti792]

My friend Browning always talks to himself. He talks to everyone but a lot of times as a animal is coming in he says "where's that spot, Browning?" I immediately started looking for my spot. There it is. Right there.

At 20 yards he changed directions and tried to drop down the ridge again. I panicked to pic a hole and lost my spot. I decided to stop him and that was a mistake. On high alert as the arrow got there, he ducked. I knew what had happened and couldn't believe it. He trotted to the bottom of the draw and my heart sank. I hate stopping deer. I was reminded why. Poor shooting or not, that arrow was on its way to wrecking his lungs.

He stood in the bottom looking back up the ridge. With nothing to lose I lowered my rattling horns down the tree. I was afraid to vocalize and did what has worked in the past when a buck is too close. I gently tugged and the horns flopped just enough. Through the optics I saw him change colors, going from dark brown to black as he raised the hair on his back and laid his ears back. He was coming.

[TradBrewSC]

 :campfire:on the edge of my seat

[wapiti792]

Regrouped and ready I watched the old boy climb out of the bottom and walk straight in. I tried my best to see an angle for a shot but knew I'd have to let him go past the tree. At 5 yards he veered towards the Red Wagon and the trail he originally came in on. As if he was reading my mind he stopped perfectly quartering away.

The hold was right this time and the 600 grain arrow with the 250 gr Tuffhead hit him at, you guessed it, at the hair I was focused on. He made a dash with arrow buried in the offside shoulder, one that was over in under 10 seconds.

At the crash I sat down and was awash with emotion. Why is this so darn hard? Killing a mature buck is so hard why do we have to do it with the most basic equipment? After these questions I just looked up and said "Thank you God. Thank you for the opportunity and thank you for animal." I sat long enough to just absorb the moment and to be still. To know that I have struggled in my personal life, my job and with something I love like archery this year and to have the rarest of opportunities to kill a Midwest ancient buck was surreal. I don't deserve any opportunity, but I was granted one. Man, chill bumps! Jay Massey said it best. All a bowhunter wants is an opportunity. I got 2.

I climbed down and organized my gear. I started on the bloodtrail but abandoned it as I knew where he was. I just couldn't wait to get my hands on him. I walked up to this view:

[ron w]

    Well told 

[wapiti792]

I sat a long while before I called anyone. I thanked him for the hunt and paid respect to an old warrior. I just wasn't in a hurry to end our time. Eventually I called my wife and son, the latter was ready to work. We snapped some photos and just took our time. We knew it wasn't likely to be many more times we had something together as special as this animal. I have killed many with bigger horns but only a couple with more trips around the sun. 30 years a bowhunter, 30 bucks with a bow. This one meant as much as any, for sure.

My dragging help will be off to college soon. I don't know if I will get to soak this up again, so I will keep this photo burned into my mind.

[wapiti792]

Since then we have had a couple of fine meals from this old boy. Each time at Grace I thank him. My son has a favorite dish. It is from the shanks cut cross ways for Osso bucco. He will yield many more great dishes for my family and someday soon he will join my memory room. I will honor him there. Until then I am working on my shooting and doing my best to be better. I know I can make a 5 yard shot. I now need to expand my range. I am a work in progress.

[Homey88]

Congrats! Great Story and great buck!

[wapiti792]

Thanks for reading my tale. I used a 74 Bear Mag Riser Monty Browning gave me but signed so I wouldn't trade it It now has been retired, unless you have something to trade...just kidding. Good luck the rest of the way! PS I still have a tag and looking for that special buck inside 5 yards.