To Those Who Have Gone Before Me... is the inscription written on the bow. The bow is a 48# Chek-Mate Falcon with a purple heart riser and black locust limbs. The bow is my first bow that I have owned. I shot my mothers 25lb. Indian Archery recurve when I was a kid, even bringing it to Boy Scout camp and making a string for it at camp. I was a decent shot and earned my archery merit badge with that bow. I was able to shoot just a handful of times through out high school but living in the city was not conducive to frequent outings...
My family camped and we fished but no one that was immediately around me hunted. The only people I did know that hunted were my cousins in Northern Wisconsin. I have always had an interest in the outdoors and the natural world, but I was never really certain about hunting though. My brother shot a chipmunk with a pellet gun one summer while camping on vacation. I was about 9 years old. I cried and buried the chipmunk. I had no previous exposure to this sort of thing. We did catch and eat fish, but this was the first time that I witnessed the taking of a life for no particular purpose. I have since figured out a few things about myself...
When your son or daughter get married, the old saying goes 'You're not losing a daughter your gaining a son.' Well in my case, when I got married I gained a brother. A brother-in-law that hunted and fished. Dave was just getting interested in bowhunting when we met and I had recently lost my own brother who had a compound bow for target shooting. He never got the opportunity to hunt. For Dave's college graduation present, we gave him my brother's compound bow. I was still was not hunting at this point...
Fast forward a few years of marriage, grad school, a home, and a baby on the way. Visiting my in-laws around Christmas time in 2003, hanging out with family, Dave and a buddy where going to take the dogs for a “walk” and asked if I wanted to come along. It was pheasant and rabbit season. Tromping through the brush and knee deep crusted snow watching the dogs work was a new and wonderful experience. Several rabbits were kicked up by the dogs and three rabbits were taken home. I watched as the rabbits were later turned from lifeless creatures to parts, pieces, and meat. I made a few connections in those few moments. The embers were lit...
Within a few months I had purchased a shotgun, and had taken my first pheasant over a dog at a pheasant hunt club(permits are not required at hunt clubs in Wisconsin). By spring of 2004 I had completed my Wisconsin Hunter's Safety course and was chomping at the bit for fall. My first daughter was born in July and somehow I was able to fan the embers a bit and started duck hunting with Dave in September. In October 2004, Wisconsin ran an early doe firearm season. I went home “sick” from work that Friday and traveled by myself for four hours with my 3 month old daughter since my wife had to work. I had asked a friend to take me out for the weekend while my mother-in-law would watch my daughter. I was able to make an 80 yard clean shot on a doe in the waining moments of a windy, drizzly, cold afternoon. I field dressed the deer under the direction of my friend by flashlight. On Sunday I skinned and butchered the deer under the direction of Dave. I had made meat for the first time...
A few weeks later Dave was going bowhunting on land that he had recently purchased. I had no bow but I went anyway to sit in a stand. I got into a 25 foot home built stand.(You won't catch me sitting in that stand anymore.) Dave had gone to another stand about 100 yards away. It was only a few moments after I settled into the stand that I heard footsteps coming down the trail. I thought it was Dave coming back to tell me something. Nope, it was a 7 point buck! He came down the trail and cut over to within 5 feet of my tree without ever knowing that I was there watching him. He was a mature deer with a huge pot belly. He melted off into the woods. It as my first close encounter. The embers began to glow...
I was able to take a small deer from that same stand in the regular November gun season a few weeks after my 7-point encounter. I was great-full for such a successful first season. In less than a year I had been on a bunny hunt, shot my first pheasant, completed a Hunter's Safety class, become a father, become a duck hunter, become a deer hunter and taken two deer cleanly, and somehow managed to stay married to my immensely patient and understanding wife. The The embers were hot and beginning to smolder...
By December, I couldn't stop thinking about the possibilities of getting close. On a visit to my parents, I dug out my mother's old Indian Archery 25lb recurve and some wood arrows from the basement. I found a county park near our home where I could shoot at bales. I ordered my bow in March of 2005 and the wait began. I had ordered a purpleheart riser to honor my grandfather who had received the purple heart medal in WWII. The limbs were going to be black locust, because, well they were one of the limb options that were included in the standard pricing. Remember all of the things that I started in the past year? I was keeping the cost down and trying to stay happily married. The most important part of the bow to me was the inscription I requested on the bow, “To those who have gone before me...” It was not important to me to say, “Custom made for Jerry Leveille”, etc. I wanted to honor those who had gone before me. Not only the past pioneers of bowhunting who had done it with much simpler equipment, but those in my personal life. My brother was lost in an accident 4 years earlier and I know that if he were here that I would be hunting with him today. In some way, I would be doing some of the things that I know that he would have liked to do. I received a long box from the mailman the first week of September 2005. The embers burst into flame...
I found arrows that would work and some of the absolute basics that would get me by. Practice happened after work and on weekend mornings. I was able to make it out for the bow opener that year. I knew that I was not ready to actually shoot anything, but it felt really good to be sitting in a stand on a field edge with a bow in my hand. I saw a few deer that evening all too far away which was okay with me for now...
Later that season in November, we were in a patch of woods that I now call “Buck Central”. It is a patch of scrub woods that lies between two agricultural fields on the north and south, a swamp on the west and a road on the east. There have been 4 large bucks taken in this patch over the years. In November it is always alive with movement, and you never can tell what will be coming around the next tree. That morning my brother-in-law and the friend I had shot my first deer with were heading into the woods with their climbing stands. I decided to try my hand at a little ground hunting and stalking. I headed into the woods with a five gallon bucket not knowing what to expect or even really what to do. After sitting in what I thought was a good spot for a while, it just didn't feel right. So I got up leaving the bucket behind and moved around a bit. I caught movement to the west and I found myself sitting on a stump trying to not move. There was no way I was really going to get a shot off in the position that I got my self in. The movement was a small doe. I sat as still as I could as I knew a shot was pretty much impossible. The little deer got within 5 yards of me sitting there on that stump. My eyes were starting to water from trying to stare out of the side of my eyes. I blinked and she saw it. The doe ran off about 25 yards and just blew and blew. She didn't know what to make of me and every deer in the woods now knew that something was up. I actually had to stand up on the stump and wave my bow around for the doe to stop blowing and move on. That was comical but way cool...
I moved down about 50 yards in the opposite direction that the doe had gone. I caught movement coming straight at me and it had antlers! I did my best to hide behind a 4 inch sapling, turning my back to the oncoming buck. In reality, I probably looked like a cartoon character trying to hide behind a tree that I was 10 times bigger than. I was somehow able to get an arrow knocked and a little tension on the string. I could make out that it was an 8 point buck. I was trying my best to keep it together, but I could see my heart beat through the tip of my broadhead! 4 more yards and the buck would offer me a clear 12 yard shot. A shot that I could make. The bucks 6th sense kicked in, either that or he could hear my heart pounding, and he swapped ends and was out of there. The flames were growing now...
In 2006 I started turkey hunting, became a father for the second time, joined a local bowhunting club, and we purchased 40 acres adjacent to my brother-in-law's land. Can you say hooked? It wasn't until 2007 that I was actually able to release an arrow. I put it right over the back of a doe and almost got a second shot. In 2008 a black bear got within 15' of me as it visited the base of my tree. What a cool moment that was for me. He had no idea I was there, or at least he didn't seem to care! Deer sighting were down as we were surrounded by 1000's of acres of corn and I had no shot opportunities.
With a growing family, work duties, and travel, hunting time is at a premium and scheduled. Two or three extended weekends are what I usually get for bowhunting and I am great-full for the time. It makes time in the field that much more valuable to me to connect with the things that I love. I particularly relish that extended weekend in November when the weather is cool and necks are swollen. It's a time of year that some folks are heading south and others are just waiting for the holiday shopping to begin. The whitetail hunter does everything in their power to be in the woods at this time of year. In 2009, I had November 13th, 14th, and 15th clear and free. I would be hunting with Dave and another friend for the weekend. Friday morning found me in the same area of “Buck Central” that I had my heart pounding experience 4 years earlier. This time there was no movement and no good sign in the area. So after an hour of trying to be a 240lb stealth predator, I took a walk west over to an area that is a bit more open and closer to the field edges. I moved down an old logging trail that leads into the swamp looking for a likely spot. I found a spot that looked like it would work, but it was to late. I was already caught moving by a deer about 75 yards moving in my direction on the trail We had a stare down for a few moments and then the deer moved on. It was a good location.
Friday evening we changed things up and moved to a different location. The rut was in full swing and we knew it. Anything or nothing can happen all at once during the rut, and that's what happened that night. Nothing. The woods were about as quiet they could be.
Saturday morning, Veteran's Day, we headed back to “Buck Central”, and I headed straight to my new hidey hole just off the logging trail. I had my bow, a bucket, and a knife with me. The knife was given to me as a Christmas present by my parents when I was about 10 years old. It is a Boy Scout Buck Lite folder that I have sharpened the wrong way for so many years that a good portion of the metal is gone. I have misplaced this knife several times, but it keeps coming back to me. Setting up in the darkness I put myself a little farther off the trail than I had the previous morning. I kicked out all the leaves and sticks at my feet. I trimmed just a few twigs that would block my shooting lane. I was able to put my bucket up against a 8 inch tree for a surprisingly comfortable back rest. I was facing at a slight angle to the right because immediately to my left was a very branchy bush. It made a superb screen and I could still see through it. The trail was about 5 yards in front of me. My right side was fairly open but the bush on my left and other background clutter gave me a good backdrop. If a deer did come from my right. I would have to be already in position and half drawn to get the shot off. It was manageable because I could see plenty of the trail leading to the swamp through the brush. I believed that I would have been able to catch the movement early enough to get ready. If not both the deer and I would be surprised. The wind was light and out of the south west and blowing directly in my face. An odd wind for that time of year, but it worked for me at the moment. As I sat in the pre-dawn darkness, I closed my eyes to focus on the sounds around me and was rudely snapped to by a deer blowing to the northwest. It blew for several moments and was moving around quite a bit. The wind was wrong for it to even smell me.
The light came up and the birds were waking and beginning to flutter about. A pileated woodpecker came “thundering” through in the dawn quiet. I could start to make out shapes a bit better and I looked behind me. My stomach dropped out. I had set my self up on an intersecting trail to the main trail. It was a very faint trail, no wonder I had missed it in the darkness, but it was a trail none the less. You know the kind of trail that crosses the main trail that a buck would use to scent check the winds on as many of the main trails as he could? Yeah, that kind of trail. How could I have missed that yesterday in the daylight! It drove me nuts for a while as I berated myself for not noticing. I finally just committed myself to the location. It was prime rut and anything could happen.
I sat in wait for about an hour after dawn when I caught movement through the bush to my left. My eyes confirmed it as a 5 point buck. He was about 40 yards on the other side of the logging trail and heading my direction. He would come to the trail about 10 yards to my left and either turn right and away from me or turn left and walk in front of me. I shifted slightly to prepare and put a little tension on the string. I lost him in the brush for a brief moment but he reappeared through the bush at my left. Another 6 feet and I would have a shot. He kept walking. Pretty soon he was moving slowly through my shooting lane. I was concentrating so hard on not moving that I almost forgot to shoot. Just as mission control upstairs was screaming at me to shoot, the buck paused and turned his head to the left and down, away from me. I recall pulling on the string but not a single thing after that other than being surprised to see my arrow sticking out of the side of the buck. I shoot bright fluorescent chartreuse feather with the same color crest wrap. They are hard to miss. The buck jumped and trotted down the trail toward the swamp. It took me a brief moment to collect myself. I jumped out onto the trail and looked toward the swamp just in time to see the buck at the end of the trail. I could clearly see my arrow sticking out of his right side. Then he went to the right and into the edge of the swamp. I thought I heard something a few seconds later but could not trust my ears as I was so full of excitement. I checked the site where the buck was when I shot. I found blood immediately. I followed it down just a few yards and found more, not a lot but good sign. I stopped there and went back to my bucket. I would wait 45 minutes. In addition to not wanting to push the deer, my brother-in-law and friend were still hunting in the same general area and I did not want to interfere with them.
That was a long 45 minutes. I replayed the whole thing in my head. It wasn't more than 40 seconds from the time I saw the deer to the time I had let the arrow go. 4 years of trying and it came down to 45 seconds and a 6 yard shot. This was harder, waiting...
This would be the first arrowed deer I tracked by myself. I began at the hit site and only moved when I found blood. I could have jumped to the end of the trail where I had last seen the buck, but I needed to do this. I was able to follow relatively easily to the point where the buck went out of view. The blood had thinned out and now I was getting into the much taller and thicker swamp grass. I moved slowly and made it another 10 yards when I was unable to immediately find more blood. I stood in that spot and told myself, 'do not move until you have a reason'. I got down low and was looking, when I stood upright again, I saw it. It was like a giant chartreuse flag hoisted up out of the swamp grass 25 feet away. It was my arrow and it was still sticking out of the buck, only the buck was not moving any longer. My ears did not deceive me. I had heard the buck crash.
I walked over and sat down next to the buck. I stroked his back and said, 'Thank you'. I sat there for several moments and I could feel all of those who have gone before me... I knew my brother was with me at that moment on Veteran's Day.
I looked out over the swamp trying to clear my eyes, and there were two deer moving through watching me. They didn't hang around long when I stood up to prepare for the task at hand. I field dressed the deer. When the deer had turned its head to the left and down, it was like it was quartering away. I put the arrow at the 3rd or 4th rib from the back. The arrow went through both lungs stopping at the offside shoulder blade. The buck had traveled less than 100 yards before going down.
The buck had passed by both Dave and our friend on it's way to me. They both new that I was waiting for my first deer and they did their best to make it happen for me. I called my wife who was back at home 4 hours away with our two daughters to share the news. I was in a state of disbelief that I had taken my first deer with a bow on the ground at 6 yards after 4 years of trying. The fire is burning bright.
Topic: To Those Who Have Gone Before Me... (Read 917 times)
