I know its that time of year where most folks thoughts have changed to that of big bucks. A big buck is a trophy for sure; earmarking the effort and the pursuit required to make it happen. However, trophy's have a pretty subjective definition by nature; so I guess a trophy is how an individual defines it.
All that said, I killed a trophy doe Thursday. 80 pounds soaking wet at my most optimistic evaluation, the doe meant more to me than some of the animals that have found their way to my wall. Perhaps I should explain a bit more.
This year was the celebration of my retirement. Though the beginning of the third year of my actual retirement; past Canadian border closures and the inabilty to draw a elk tag delayed the 'big' hunts until this year. In January of this year, I knew this was the big year that the most desirable hunts that I planned were going to happen.
It all started with a turkey season that was like no other. Birds were stacked up like cord wood on my place but I just couldn't make it happen. I'm not sure what caused it but I was in the grips of TP and I couldn't hit the soft ball sized vitals at any distance. Its a year I would rather rather forget so that's all I'm going to say about that.
The next trip was a Manitoba bear hunt that I had the time of my life. Likely saw 35 bears at 15 yards and less. The only arrow I shot during the last hours of the hunt sailed just over the bruins back. I was very aware of the effects of TP during the draw and plucked the string on release.
Undaunted, I practiced all summer, was back to shooting well and I looked forward to my Unit 40 elk hunt in Colorado with relish. It took my 15 points to draw and I knew this would be my last bull hunt there due to the inability to draw another bull tag there at my age. Wonderful hunt but my shot at a massive bull apparently hit a rib and the arrow just fell out.
Archery season started here in my home state and deer sightings were scarce. I missed a doe high, missed another doe low. I've always shot well and had killed over 150 big game animals with my stickbow; but the wheels had come completely off. I questioned my ability to make it happen. Perhaps I had just grown too old.
Which now brings us to the trophy doe. I sat in a narrow part of where two old sloughs ran close together. I had sat there about 20 minutes and finally a doe came walking from the direction that I had set up for. At 15 yards, I released the arrow and hit her toward the middle, very low, but angled forward. I anticipated hearing a crash down in the swamp; but heard nothing. The thoughts of self doubt started to creep back in. Could my bad luck continue or would my fate change?
About 25 minutes later, I saw a deer walk across the slough and my glasses revealed a wound very low on the animal but otherwise about where I thought I had shot it. The deer walked into the swamp grass and I watched it for the next hour move in a tight radius. It eventually walked out of my sight and I sat in the stand a couple of extra hours.
Upon getting down from my stand, I quietly walked to my arrow to find the feathers and shaft were soaked with blood. I did see a fleck or two of fecal matter; and in normal times; I would have pursued after the three hour wait assuming a liver hit. But this wasn't normal times. I decided to back out as the weather was cool and if the deer was already dead, it would still be dead later in the day.
After 8 hours from the time I shot her, I returned. I said a short prayer asking for guidance and began my search. After an hour, I hadn't even found a speck of blood even though I knew exactly where she had been for standing an hour. I had searched every thicket I could think of, every slough, every possible crossing...no dice. I sat on a log exhausted, took out a bottle of water and just sat there thinking for about 15 minutes...a bit of self pity was absorbed as much as I hate to say it. This just couldn't be happening. I thought about every possible place the young doe could be and had already placed a mental check mark on the search for all those places. A final thought occurred to me. I had searched everything in a 180 degree area for quite a ways and I just couldn't imagine the deer going far. As unlikely as it would seem, perhaps she hit the thick grasses on the far side of the opening and doubled back the way she come. With the only place left to search I started working back through the thick grass..... in the opposite direction that I saw her headed the last time I saw her.
I had covered about 100 yards and I saw the white underbelly of the doe! Relief, exhaustion, and appreciation flooded my thoughts. I touched the young doe, ran my hand down her beautiful coat, and gave thanks. The doe was cool to the touch...she had likely died before I even climb down from the stand. Only after the recovery, did I remember thinking I saw movement near this location from my stand..... only for my glasses to reveal nothing. I dismissed it as an illusion. It hadn't been. A lesson learned about recovery after 5 decades of tracking.
She was a trophy doe.
Topic: Trophy Doe (Read 2330 times)
