moments after the smell hit my nose the unmistakeable sound of a billy hit my ears and with a couple of more steps he came into view from behind a ledge. strangely it wasn't the same goat i had glassed from the valley floor but as luck would have it he was on his lonesome, giving the 'getting close' part of the deal a little more chance of success.
he stood up and began to sidle the face. thinking he might walk out of my life i followed as hastily as could while trying to minimise any fast movements and noise. luckily he stopped, propped up on a rock looking down the cliff, voicing his presence to those who cared to listen. having seized opportunity to make enough ground to be within my shooting range and nock an arrow while he was preoccupied, i settled in behind a convieniently located cypress. for now at least he was in control of the situation. the black billy began to pace back and forth across the top of the cliff, looking down, looking my way, then looking down again. all the while i tried to reposition my feet for a better stance in case he gave me a shot. again he walked back to where he started always seemingly partially obsured by a tree or a rock. by now i was in a good shooting position i just needed him to stop somewhere at a favourable angle to allow me to shoot. by this time i could tell the billy was thinking that this had gone on long enough. with luck on my side he turned and walked back once again, this time stopping half way.......in front of two trees.
i could see his chest but he couldn't see me, usually the opposite happens. sometimes luck plays it's part. at first the trees put me off but after a few moments of concentration the subconscious said 'go time'. often that is the opposite too. i'm a big believer in listening to my instincts in deciding whether to shoot. sometimes a shot opportunity pops up but things don't feel right and when your in that frame of mind the shot has already missed. instinct decides and i rarely question it. it's too often right to bother.
i don't know if the trees helped me concentrate more or not. i picked a spot, drew my 69#recurve and the arrow was loose when i hit my anchor point. the 980gr arrow flew through the estimated 18m of space that seperated us landing right on the point of concentration. it vanished and i thought it lost forever somewhere distant down the valley. i had helped make up the billy's mind to the depart the scene. he crashed over the cliff and out of sight. i went and collected my pack and then scrambled down and found him and by chance, my arrow.
beside the tree that stopped him from going all the way to the bottom stands a large, long since dead, cypress pine. the resting place of that arrow.
by some slim chance the arrow must have bounced off a rock, glanced the trunk of the tree then lodged in a side branch. a bizarre set of circumstances had saved it from a trip into the abyss to be lost forever. instead it now bears testimony to the fact that a hunter has been there.
here's my sight picture at the shot. the billy was standing a little beyond the line of rocks, facing to the left. his head behind the larger of the two trees and his vitals dead center bewteen them.
you can see here were it hit the trunk then lodged in the branch. out of reach, it remains there, giving meaning to the my name of the location, 'arrow tree cliff'. also, i like it when yellow feathers turn orange.
thanks to a small cypress the meat was saved from a long tumble and being badly bruised.
Topic: in pursuit of the cliff dwellers (Read 796 times)
