The clock went off at 5:30 AM. After working three 12 hour shifts, I was tempted to roll back over and sleep in. But I felt like I had a good chance to see a deer at the spot I intended to hunt, so I crawled out of bed and took a quick shower, threw on my camo, and headed out the door.
This would be my first chance to hunt the funnel since I killed the deer there on Thanksgiving morning. I had wanted to hunt there last week, but circumstances had prevented it. This would be my only opportunity this week, and with the forecast calling for a good wind, I pulled into my parking spot with high hopes. I climbed out of the truck, gathered up all my gear, and started the 15 minute walk down to the creek.
One thing concerned me, and that was the fact that we had been blessed with a good rain since my last creek crossing. The water level would be fairly high, and I knew that my boots wouldn’t be tall enough to keep my feet dry. Since my hip waders were out of commission due to dry rot, I decided to try another method, which was new to me. I had gotten the idea from Warren Womack, after seeing it in one of his videos. Plastic trash bags.
After easing up to the creek, I pulled the two trash bags out of my cargo pocket of my pants, and quickly pulled one up over each leg. I eased out into the water, and felt my way across. At the mid-point, the water came up just above my knees. As I reached the opposite bank with a pair of dry feet, I couldn’t help but grin. I can’t believe I had never thought of that.
I removed the bags, and left them by the creek bank for when I returned. I made my way deeper into the swamp, and after crossing two more sloughs I finally arrived on the patch of ground that led to the funnel. It was just starting to get daylight when I reached the base of the tree. On my last two hunts here, I had first used my climber, and last time I had climbed with my gaffs. Today, I had decided to drill the tree. I pulled my Woodpecker drill from my pack and started to drill the first of the ten holes I would need to reach my desired hunting height. After sliding the 10th bolt into place, I quickly hung my Loc On Limit and climbed onto the platform. After pulling up my bow, I nocked an arrow and settled back onto the seat to wait.
On my past two hunts in this tree, I had shot a deer at around 7:45, and another around 8:00. When 8:30 arrived, with no deer seen, I started to lose my enthusiasm. The squirrels were stirring around pretty well, and at one point I almost took a shot at a fat one sitting on a rotten log 10 yards away. I was able to fight the temptation until he moved out of range.
Every deer I had seen in here had approached from my front-left, so that’s where I was focusing most of my attention. At 9:21, I heard a commotion, and was surprised to see two deer trotting toward me from behind my tree. I quickly stood, and readied for a shot as they passed on my left. The small doe bounced past me, with a four point hot on her trail. It only took me an instant to decide to shoot the buck, and as he hit a hole that I could shoot through, I bleated loudly to stop him. He was oblivious. I bleated two more times, each time a little louder, but he only had one thing on his mind. The doe, however, had heard it and locked up. The buck actually ran up to her and bumped her, and she turned around and came back by my tree. Once again I tried to stop the buck in a spot where I had a shot, but it fell on deaf ears. I watched them trot on off, and stop about 50 yards out.
I continued to watch them through the thick brush, and would occasionally catch an ear flip, or a tail twitch. I also saw another small buck, a spike or possibly a 4 point, move toward them. After they stood in practically one spot for nearly 20 minutes, the buck once again began to chase the doe. They moved in behind my tree, and stopped again for a good 10 minutes. It was so thick that if I took my eyes off of them for a second, when I looked back I couldn’t tell where they were unless some movement betrayed their position. They both finally eased toward me. The buck was the closer of the two, and he eventually got about 7 yards from my tree. With him standing head on, and screened by brush, I could only wait on him to make the next move, hopefully before the wind swirled and revealed my presence. He stood in one spot for a solid 5 minutes. I waited, with slight tension on the bowstring. If he would turn to his right and take one step, I would have a clear, broadside shot. When he decided to move, that’s exactly what he did. But before I could draw my bow he had taken two more quick steps and was out of the lane. I could only watch as he walked straight away from me behind a wall of brush.
I glanced over at the doe. She was broadside, about 20 yards away, but it was just too thick for a shot. As I looked back toward the buck, I noticed that he was walking up to a group of 3 more does that I hadn’t even seen approach. A few seconds later, he started to run those deer, and to my amazement, they were running in my direction! I prepared for a quick shot to my left-rear, as that’s where they were headed. Seeing that the lead deer was a mature doe, I decided to try for her and let the buck walk. As she hit a small opening at 12 yards, I let out a bleat and she pulled up. I hit anchor just as she stopped, and picked a spot low in the crease. The next thing I knew, the arrow was there, but forward of its intended destination. I missed...2 inches to the right. My yellow feathers were sticking out. Anytime my arrow doesn’t disappear through the animal, it gives me pause, but immediately I could tell she was hit hard. She streaked off in a controlled crash, stumbling several times before I lost sight of her. She had hooked around the end of a big blowdown tree, headed toward the creek, but I didn’t hear her splash. I felt confident she was down. I glanced at my watch, and it was 10:01.
After giving her about 20 minutes, I climbed down and took up the trail. Even when I know pretty much right where they’re at, I can’t resist walking the blood. Not knowing if I had an exit wound, I didn’t know what to expect. I walked over to where I thought she had been standing, and couldn’t find any blood. I looked around for a minute, and then happened to glance over about 6 feet to my left and saw piles of blood. Right away I knew I had an exit wound. I continued to walk the blood, taking an occasional picture of the trail. When I found the deer, she was laying about 20 feet from the edge of the creek. All total, she had made it about 50 yards.
A view from my stand.
A good sign.
Topic: My Best Season Ever - #10 (Read 859 times)
