I have taken off Thursday and Friday for the past two weeks in an effort to kill a deer with my bow. While I have been fortunate to see roughly 90% of the deer population in south-central Missouri, something ALWAYS went wrong when it came to taking a shot at one of them. Either the wind would switch, the deer would change their mind about their travel direction, hounds would come through to scare everything off or some other calamity would take place to rob me of my chance to be a champ.
This past Sunday, I hunted on the ridge behind our barn and could hear deer tromping around even before daylight. I was in a ladder stand at the edge of an old logging loading ground because the wind was right (at that particular moment) for that position. By 7:30, I had already called in two bucks; one a thumping Jesse, only to be foiled again by the Fates. Both deer walked straight towards me and then turned to pass me on my left at less than 15 yards. Unfortunately, I am afflicted with left-handedness and cannot shoot to my left without moving a great deal. I moved, the bucks spooked and I had a pity-party for myself once again. Oh and BTW, they both walked within a foot of my drag rag soaked in doe pee like it wasn't even there.
Another half hour goes by and I hear something behind me, again on my left side. It's a doe and a fawn heading my direction. This time, though, their vector should work in my favor because they will pass me quartering away at 15 yards. But remember the drag rag I mentioned? I had gotten down a few minutes before and threw it on the ground thinking that that might make a difference. It did, but not a good one.
The fawn came in first and went right up to the rag; sniffing on it like it was her favorite brand of ice cream. I was fixing to shoot her but Momma was standing right there scanning the area for threats. I knew that if I drew then it would be all over so I waited.
The fawn moved towards me and now it was Momma's turn to sniff the rag. Her reaction was not so positive. In fact, it was like she had been shocked with a cattle prod. I guess a little too much of me was on that rag too and she immediately pinned her ears back and started looking around. I could see they were both ready to bolt and I had already resigned myself to failure one more time.
When they did run, though, something inside of me took over and I don't even remember making a conscious decision to shoot. The doe was waaaaay out there, like 30 yards quartering away, and all I remember thinking is "aim high to arc your arrow". I drew my longbow, let go of that string and watched my arrow lob through the air. I shoot an ash arrow that looks like a log but the spirit of Howard Hill was in me that day because I could not have hit that deer any better! She turned to run down the holler and I could see my broadhead sticking out the other side of her right behind the shoulder.
After saying to myself, "I cannot believe I made that #%%@@ shot!" about a hundred times, I got down from the stand, gathered up my stuff and went to the house to get Dad. We tracked her about an 1/8 of a mile and found her piled up in a multi-flora rose thicket. I hit both lungs but I guess she just didn't want to give it up.
Darren
Here's the entry wound
Here's the exit wound
Here's me being happy
Topic: Longbow doe! (Read 747 times)
