On the first morning of hunting I found myself within 40-50 yards of a bachelor group of 4 bucks, but they busted me before I could get much closer. That encounter was encouraging, but they ended up being the last bucks I saw for the next few days.
On the forth morning we decided to try a new area. We had run into a couple of elk hunters who said they had seen great deer sign down near where the aspens meet the oak brush. While that contradicted everything else we had heard advising us to stay as high as we could for the deer, it was worth a try.
A couple hours after sun up I heard an elk bugle a couple of times in the general direction I was headed. I like seeing elk just about more than anything, and decided to head that way. As I eased along I caught movement ahead, and thought at first it was an elk. But when the head came up it morphed into a beautiful 4x4 muley buck. He was alone and feeding in my direction, so I just crouched where I was and hoped for the best.
His course would bring him within 20 yards of where I hid, but something else caught his interest and just as he was begining to get close enough he veered away. All I could think was he was going to walk out of my life as he turned and headed away from me. As he hesitated at 30 yards a thought flashed through my brain that I had been shooting stumps at that distance all week. Could I make that shot on an animal? I drew back as the sight picture became clear the arrow was on its way.
At the hit it appeared to be low and back behind the leg by a foot, but angling forward. The buck gave a loud grunt and bolted downhill, and then slowed before he got out of sight. I was a little concerned with the hit and gave it an hour before checking for blood. When the time was up I searched both where I thought he had stood and along the first part of the path he had taken and found nothing. Fearing a liver hit or worse, I backed out and returned to camp.
By noon temperatures were warming and we decided to go ahead and see what we could find. It had been four hours, and although if it had been a stomach hit I would prefer to wait longer, I was concerned about losing the meat. My own gut feeling kept telling me that he was hit hard and hadn't gone far.
Searching along the route he had taken turned up nothing. We worked the hillside back and forth along the route he had taken and neither of us could find a speck of blood or any sign of a hit. I was becoming more pessimistic by the moment. I still felt that the deer was dead, but really wondered how we would find him in the thick waist high brush without a clue on where he had gone. Just as we were about to start grid seaching I found one spot of blood on a fallen aspen leaf. Finally a clue!
From that point, although the blood sign was still sparse, we made progress on the trail. We found a spot where he had stood, and shortly after were rewarded with this sight.
The arrow had indead angled forward and exited the opposite shoulder. Why there wasn't more blood is still a mystery to me. After so many years of hard hunting and wondering whether it would ever happen, and then to sink to such lows wondering if I had blown the best opportunity of my life, I was overcome with the emotion of finding him. What a great feeling of relief!!
While there were certainly larger deer in the area I couldn't be happier with this boy.
Topic: Update...Has anyone heard from Whip? ... Short Story and Pic's Added (Read 2846 times)
