Okay, folks, this is the final round of this shoot. I must say, this will be a doozy.
Let me paint a picture for you.
You're in Alaska, on Admiralty Island, to be exact. You're after Sitka Blacktails, but, as you well know, Admiralty Island has the highest density of brown bear in the world. You hope you don't get to meet one face to face, but the odds are that you will.
Your hunt begins early on a September morning. The sound of a loon crying in the dark wakes you from a deep sleep. You rise, wash your face, and begin to dress. Your guide is already up and moving in the galley. You eat your breakfast of scrambled eggs, fresh king crab, and a few cups of coffee out on the deck of the boat. The sky is beginning to lighten, and there is a dense fog blanketing the small bay you've anchored in. The water is as smooth as glass, and the silence is deafening. The slightest noise echoes off the nearby spruce and fir trees. You know that the island is a scant 100 yards from you, but you can't see it yet.
You finish your last cup and gather your gear. You double check your brace height and run your fingers over the limbs of your trusted longbow. You check each arrow as you snug it tight into your quiver. You grab your pack, heavy-laden with the items you've painstakingly stowed. You won't be unprepared.
Without a word, your guide steps into the inflatable skiff. He's got his well-worn Winchester slung over his shoulder. "Mrs. Fury", he calls her. A .458 Winchester. Admiralty is no place to fool around, and certainly no place to go unarmed. You feel a little naked, with only your bow, but you trust your guide. He's no greenhorn. You hand him your pack, as you step gingerly into the skiff. You untie the bow line, and the guide starts the quiet little four-stroke.
Within a few minutes, you've reached the landing area. After all is unloaded, the guide ties off the 100' anchor line and pushes the skiff back out in the bay. "Don't want to give ol' brownie a chew toy," he says.
You tighten your boots and put your pack. You pull a blunt-tipped arrow out of your quiver and make a few shots, just to get loosened up. It'll be a few hours before you're even close to a blacktail, but you're anxious to loose an arrow. You see a likely stump in a bank 15 yards in front of you.
PRACTICE SHOTS: 15yds, standing, shoot 4 arrows.
Satisfied with your accuracy, you give your guide the nod, and he leads you off into the thickest forest you've ever been in. As you walk, your guide talks, both to educate you and to let anything around know of your presence. Now is not the time to be sneaking along, that will come later. You notice that the path is well-defined, and about every 3 feet is a big round spot, a spot as big as a dinner plate. The guide notices your puzzled look. "We're on a well-used bear trail. They'll step in the same spot each time they use it." Gulp. You're in the thick of it now.
After an hour, with the trail steadily rising, you're legs are on fire. Your young guide must be half mountain goat. You sheepishly ask for a little break. Your guide, himself a little embarrassed for not paying closer attention to you, agrees. "We're almost to a little clearing. It'll be a good spot to stop." You trudge on.
It's getting lighter, but the cloud cover is hiding the sun. It's still foggy and the giant fir and spruce create any eerie mood. Soon you reach the clearing. You both pause and take an assessment. It's not big, maybe a 50 yards across. The devil's club covers the ground, but you can see two huge logs laying across the opening. Your guide slowly and quietly touches your elbow. "There, on that far log. Do you see it?" You stare and suddenly, you see some movement. What is it? After a second, you finally see. It's a huge male spruce grouse. "Can you shoot it from here?" asks your guide. "It'd make a fine lunch once we get to the top." It's a little too far out of your range, maybe 40 yards. You decide to creep a little closer. The root ball will hide you, but you'll have to stay low. If you can get to the other side of the roots, you'll be around 15 yards. "Wait here." you tell the guide.
SHOT #1: The grouse, 15yds, bending at the waist
"Nice shot! Let me go ahead and clean it while you rest." Soon, you're up and ready to go. After another hour or so, you're getting close to the tree line. You leave the huge firs and spruce behind, and soon your making your way through a dense alder thicket. The terrain is steep, rocky, and perpetually wet. This is no place to rush, so you take your time and make sure footing is secure. Another hour, and your guide motions for you to come to his side.
"Here we are." He lays out a plan. You'll set up down down the ridge from him among some large rocks. He'll stay above you and blow the call. "They'll be coming up out of the alder. With any luck, you should have a shot within 20 yards. Good luck."
You waste no time getting to your spot. The ground is covered in a deep, luscious grass, and huge granite outcropping and boulders are every where. You can see clearly the paths where deer are coming into the alpine. You find yourself a good spot to sit. Some small rocks in front of you and a large boulder behind. Your camo matches up well with the granite, so you'll be well hidden. You take your pack off and set it within reach. You sit cross-legged, with you back to the boulder, your bow on your lap, an arrow knocked.
After a few minutes, behind and to the left of you, you hear your guide blow his call. It's an unusual call, more like a loud whistle. He blows a couple of more times, then falls silent. You wait. All of your senses are on high alert. Without moving your head, you scan the terrain before you. You think you see something to your left. You slowly move your head in that direction. You see an alder branch move. Your pulse quickens, and you catch your breath. You see a white spot that wasn't there before. You stare intently. You blink a few times to moisten your eyes, and refocus on the spot. Suddenly, you see it. A buck! The white spot was his throat patch. He's staring up in the direction of your guide. He slowly makes his way out of the alder, bobbing his head, trying to find the source of that call. Two more steps and you'll have a clear view of his chest. You need to get your bow up. Slowly now. He's moving...
SHOT #2: Sitka Blacktail buck, 20yds, sitting cross-legged
"WHOO-HOOO! He's down!" your guide yells as he leaps down the hill toward you. You got him right through the lungs and he went less than 30 yards! Good shooting!" You still haven't caught your breath. A lifelong dream has just been realized.
As you rub your hands over the chocolate rack, your guide pipes up, "You know, you've got another tag. A big front is moving in, so we might need to hunt while we can. Let's go see if we can get another one. I saw a couple of bucks on the next ridge over, and I'm sure they'll still be there." He quickly field dresses the buck and drags him up the hill away from the gut pile. Soon, you're back hunting.
Sure enough, through your binos, you spot a couple of bucks feeding less than two hundred yards away. They are feeding towards a little saddle in the top of a ridge. If you stay low, you should be able to crawl within shooting distance. Your guide opts to stay back and give you hand signals to guide you. You start off. You quickly cover the first 100 yards. You look back to your guide. Through your binos you see he has raised 10 fingers. One hundred yards to go. You also see him move his palm downward. You'll need to stay low. It's slow going now. You can move crouched over for about 50 yards, but soon you're on your hands and knees. A glance back at your guide reveals you're close.
You're on your belly now, inching your way up behind some large clumps of grass. You slowly raise your head and see two bucks feeding directly in front of you less than 20 yards away. If they move forward, you'll be in plain view. You need to get ready for a shot.
SHOT#3: Sitka Blacktail buck, 17yds, on your stomach.
Again, with a whoop and a holler, your guide comes bounding down the hill. "You're a hunting machine!" Within a couple of hours, you have both deer boned and loaded in your packs. You're glad you brought a good pack, as it now weighs 80 lbs. You just hope your knees hold up on the way to the beach.
Two hours later and you've reached the spot you've been looking for. Your legs are shaking, and even though dark is fast approaching, you've got to rest. You take off your pack and lie on your back on the sand, your bow at your side. She's been good to you, so you don't let her get too far away. Your guide begins to pull the boat in. You doze off.
You suddenly get a sense that something isn't right. You catch a whiff of an awful stench. Something akin to a wet dog that has rolled in a dead fish carcass. You open your eyes and there before you is the one thing you hoped you wouldn't see today. A huge brown bear is stalking toward your guide, like a cat about to pounce on it's prey. Your guide is oblivious, hauling the anchor line hand over hand. His rifle is far out of reach. The only thing close is your bow. "This is a bad idea..." you think as you knock an arrow.
SHOT #4: Save your guide, 15 yards, on your back
Good luck.
Topic: TRADGANG FUN SHOOT ROUND TWELVE... (Read 450 times)
