An old mans trust

[Lowrider]

What a wonderful story. Brings a tear to my eye. Reminds me so much of how it was for me and my Dad. Thank you for bringing back the memories.

[Swinestalker]

Dawn had broken and the willow thicket was bathed in the steel gray glow of early morning. It was around 30 degrees and the wind was ideal. The fog from my breath would reassuringly drift gently back over my right shoulder as I slowly picked my way through the willows. There was a magic in the air, an anticipation of adventures and opportunities to come. No matter how many times I went hunting, this feeling never faded. I found it very comforting that even after a lifetime afield, Grandpa obviously still felt this same magic. It’s a magic that does not fade, and cannot be broken, except by a quail suddenly exploding from under your feet...To say that I was startled is an understatement. In my experience, the quail is among the most evil of all birds, exhibiting both a malicious nature and a complete lack manners. His uncivilized behavior had caused me to let out a startled yelp and trip over a root as I jumped backwards. Landing squarely on my rump, I glared at the fiendish little bird as he disappeared into the willows as if shot from a cannon. I could not actually see his face, but I’m certain he was smiling....

[Swinestalker]

Gathering myself, and my things, I continued the hunt. Trying to put the previous incident behind me, I eased on another 50 yards or so at a slightly faster pace. Another hour passed without incident before I reached the edge of the hardwood bottoms. I would stop here for a long while. My view in the willows was never more than 30 yards or so. Here at the edge of the hardwoods, I could see well over 100 yards in places. There were several deer trails meandering through the bottom with the main one about 15 yards in front of me. The sun was now up high enough that rays began to penetrate the canopy, dappling the woods in broken sunlight. I had taken up a spot under a knarly old cedar tree. It was a familiar and comfortable spot that had produced a fat doe for me in the past. After about an hour, the sunlight, pleasant sounds and fragrance of the forest conspired to make me quite sleepy. I dozed and daydreamed most of another hour, soaking up the wonderful morning. Times like these  are some of the most enjoyable experiences one can have afield. I knew Grandpa was up on that ridge by now,  half asleep himself and daydreaming about who knows what. I did know what I was daydreaming about, quail hunting.....

[Swinestalker]

The pre rut was in full swing, love was in the air, and the bucks were all worked up looking for receptive does. A big, rusty colored fox squirrel had made his way across the canopy and was now in the cedar above me. I love watching squirrels frolic. Many folks mistakenly think they mess up the deer hunting. That’s pure nonsense. Squirrels and deer live closely together and if anything, the sounds of squirrels feeding helps put deer at ease. Trying to reach the ground, he wound up coming down the trunk of a smallish sapling only a few feet in front of me. He stopped about 6 feet off the ground to have a good look around and make sure nothing terrible was down there. Turns out, something terrible was down there! Me...He froze, looking dead at me. An intense staring contest ensued. Now I was an old hand at winning staring contests, and I figured a squirrel, being the nervous and jumpy sort, would be a piece of cake. He was sure tougher than I thought! Neither of us moved a muscle or blinked for several long minutes. Finally his squirrel nature got the better of him and he began to twitch his tail. This was a sure sign he was about to crack. Surprisingly, he had apparently decided whatever that ugly thing was, it was not keeping him from his breakfast. He jumped down and began foraging only a few feet away, stopping every few seconds to give me the stink eye. This created a small problem. While I certainly enjoyed watching him, I was now frozen in place. Already being suspicious, the slightest movement on my part would cause the squirrel to have an immediate and complete nervous breakdown. This would then alert every living creature in this whole neck of the woods. And deer do pay attention to alarmed squirrels. I figured he would feed on off, but instead he soon became fixated on me again. This time instead of a staring contest, he nervously approached to within about 5 feet. I could tell there was no going back now, he knew something was up, but the curiosity was simply more than he could bear. Might as well have a little fun I thought, so right as he was taking another tentative step towards me, I very suddenly jerked my hands up and went “Boo”. He jumped several feet straight up in the air, swapped ends, and began to run frantically. If he’d have been on the ground, he’d have really covered some distance!  As it was, he had not gone anywhere but up, and then back down. Upon reaching the ground once again, and despite the fact that he’d gone nowhere, he now decided a direction change was in order. After a few feet, yet another direction change seemed like the thing to do. This went on for some time. That poor squirrel ran a mighty long way at a very frantic pace, to only end up about 10 feet further from me than when he started. He had finally come to rest on another sapling, about a foot off the ground and breathing like a race horse that had just run the Kentucky derby. At this point he seemed to remember that he could climb trees, and scrambled up the sapling and into the canopy. What a wonderful show! I felt very pleased with myself. That is until I noticed the 8 point staring at me from 60 yards away.....

[woodchucker]

What a way to start the morning.... 

[Swinestalker]

 Feeling like a fool, I froze in place. How much had he seen? Must have just caught a flicker of movement or he would already be gone. After a few tense moments, he twitched his tail and continued down the trail. Problem was, it was not the close trail he was taking, it was the farther trail that would take him past me at about 45 yards. That’s just too far for me. He was so majestic as he picked his was past me. Fat and shiny, he looked to be a 3 year old. It was the rut and I could see a few fresh scars on his head and neck from battle. His hocks were stained dark and wet. His walk had purpose, he was obviously on a mission. His focus on love is likely what had just saved me from spooking him. As I watched him pass from sight, my mind formed the plan. Slip back into the willows, hit the sandbar, and travel back up it, re enter the willows and intercept him where the two trails converged. It was a good plan with a solid chance of success, but I had no intention of doing it. Grandpa was about 200 yards up from that intersection and the buck was headed right for him. Instead, I crossed the hardwood bottom and hunted my way to spot on a ridge about 300 yards from grandpa's position. This took about half an hour. I settled into a comfortable position at the base of a huge red oak. I was so excited! That buck should be getting close to him by now. Easing back into my daydreams, I waited for the shot.

[Swinestalker]

 It is not my intention to drag this out, and I apologize for any inconvenience. I generally only have about an hour in the evenings to write, if I’m lucky!

[GCook]

You're doing just fine.  Keep it up.

[Bisch]

What he said^^^^^!

Bisch

[South MS Bowhunter]

 

[hawkeye n pa]

 

[woodchucker]

More coffee... 

This is getting good!!!

[Duker]

 

[Bvas]

I’m hooked!!! Waiting on more!!!

 

[Swinestalker]

 Across the river, I could just barely hear the music of hounds chasing a deer.  It was mid morning by now and the rest of the family would be on stands hoping the dogs would push a deer past them. Me and Grandpa had our own little drama going on over here. As I reflected, a sadness overcame me. Grandpa was in his 70s now, and I was old enough to realize that times like these were not going last for much longer. I thought of all the sacrifices he’d made for his family. How he was once a young man like myself, full of energy and dreams. Somewhere along the line, his dreams had turned to making the dreams of his family come true instead of his own. Quick to smile, he had a sharp wit and was a masterful storyteller. He never complained. He shunned praise and would give all the credit to God, yet when something went wrong, he alone accepted full responsibility, even if it was not his fault. Looking at the Bear recurve resting in my lap, I believed it to have been the greatest gift ever given me, but at that moment, I began to realize the greatest gift he’d ever given me was his shining example of what character and manhood should look like.

[South MS Bowhunter]

Amen, and amen!

[Swinestalker]

 I was concerned. The deer should have reached Grandpa by now, yet no shot rang out. There are no sure things in hunting. The deer could have taken another trail. The wind could have shifted and some fickle current may have betrayed my grandfathers presence. A million things could have went wrong. Feeling some disappointment, I decided to move up another 100 yards or so towards his position. As I was just getting to my feet, the deep bellow of Grandpa’s old 12 gauge broke the morning silence. The sound of the shot found its way to the opening of the river and made a peculiar crackling noise as it echoed down the channel. I’ll never forget that sound. I was suddenly beside myself with joy and excitement! I thought of his saying, “One shot meat, two shots maybe, three shots miss.” No sooner did this thought cross my mind, than the sound of a running deer coming from Grandpa’s direction could be heard. Suddenly, the 8 point materialized out of the brush. He was running flat out and directly towards me....

[ny state land]

This is amazing! Very elegant writing!

[Swinestalker]

God in his wisdom gives us some very useful natural instincts. Things that protect or help us without even having to think about it. Besides the ones given us naturally, we can also learn instincts. It generally takes a lot of time, effort and dedication to learn an instinct. Traditional archery falls into the category of instinctive endeavors, at least that is the goal. It must have been instinct that made me react the way I did. It seemed almost as if I was somehow watching the whole thing happen and not in control myself, like someone else was doing it. It all happened so fast. He was on me in an instant and passing by at a mere 10-12 yards. Luckily, he had turned off the afterburners and slowed to just a normal loping run. Somehow my fingers found the string and as he passed, I instinctively drew and released. I remember watching the arrow spin it’s way across the short distance between us and intercept the bounding buck, it’s bright red and yellow feathers disappearing very near the spot behind his shoulder that held my complete focus and concentration. Still in follow through position, I stood in frozen awe and watched him run another 40 yards with his lifeblood pouring out both sides. He suddenly pulled up on wobbly legs and came to a stop. After a few seconds of trying to keep his balance, he fell to his side and began his death throes. I stood there for a few more seconds, bow arm still out, still in follow through position, too stunned to react. What had just happened? Did grandpa miss? That was very unlikely. A smile came to my face as I thought of what the answer must be. Grandpa must have shot the deer and it had ran back towards me before going down. That would explain why it went down so fast. It did not however act like a wounded deer. I hurried to the downed buck to learn the truth...

[woodchucker]

Buck down!!! Or 2....???