This afternoon was another windy one - rain (and snow flurries) on and off. I putterred around the house and at 3:00PM decided - what the heck. Bundled up and went down to my tree stand.
Sleet, rain, wind, sleet. Yuck. Twice before sunset I was ready to climb down and give up. But I am stubborn once in place.
Didn't see a thing except a fat red squirrel working the leaves.
At 20 minutes before sunset I spotted movement further down the hill in a little clear glade above a creek. Sure enough - spotted a deer nose and a leg. Maybe 100 yards off. I poured the water out of the eyepieces of my binocs but by then there was a white pine between us and I couldn't see past it. 15 minutes later I saw movement again off to my right . . . and a glint of rack!
I shifted myself out on my stand (I'm in a "palm" of a red maple where the main trunk splits into five smaller trunks - great for cover, poor for bow clearance.
The buck continued closer and then zigged again to put the pine between us. He made the wrong choice and selected the trail I decided was primary for this stand (good job Stumpy) and that brought him 18 yards away and square broadside.
A strong concentration and focus on "the spot" 1/3 of the way up the chest (I imagine where the arrow would have to exit for a good, low double-lung) and just as he lead with the right leg I put the arrow in front of his trailing left foreleg with a light "thwuk". He lunged forward and ran in the direction he had been facing. The woods and leaves were wet and silent.
"Well, Stumpy, you're committed to a trailing in the wet and rain at sunset - hope you're up to it."
I lowered my bow and quiver on my light line and unbelted myself and climbed down. Found deer hair (19 paces from the tree). No sign of the arrow. I said a prayer and waited. Heard nothing but the patter of drops off the bare trees.
I could see the leaves kicked up in the direction he went, and spotted fletching of the last third of my broken Douglas fir shaft. So I moved up to that spot and again paused. It was by now getting dark quickly. I found more deer hair. He had broken out onto my main logging road (and target shooting lane of 100 yards) and I could see his prints where he skidded in the mud and leaves. He made a 90° turn down the road to the creek. I slowly walked along keeping an eye on the leaves . . . and by now obvious blood even in the wet leaves. "This is good".
Came upon another section of blood soaked shaft. With the shaft through his chest his leg bones had snapped it as he ran.
I stopped to do one last binoc of the dogwood & thornapple brush ahead before I lost the last of the light . . . and there was a whitetail. Horizontal to, and flat on the ground whitetail!
Once again the best feeling in the world: the sight of a prostrate deer at the end of a short bloodtrail.
Perhaps 75 yards from my treestand.
After watching for any panting for 10 minutes I walked up to a splendid large-body buck.
I knew when I shot he was missing something, but I'm not an antler collector.
A prayer of thanksgiving and a call to THE ADMIRAL to inform her we would be having a guest tonight.
She passed me as I went back up to the house to get the deer cart (aka 1956 Ford 640).
As I say - this guy must have been a scrapper and misplaced something recently.
44" girth at the chest (dressed) and a dandy buck. I'm well and truly pleased with myself. A nice symmetrical rack would be icing on the cake, but I'm not complaining. This guy likely earned his scars honorably and I am glad he chose to spend some time with me.
125 gr Stos file-sharpened head, Douglas fir shafts tapered from 23/64" to 5/16" (by me) and my 1966 Browning Explorer bow - in shiny green glass and hard finish! I was trying this year to see if it made any difference. Guess no tape on the limbs ever again.
Topic: Scrappy one down. (Read 1195 times)
