Rain is not the forecast any hunter wants to hear going into the final day of the season. Add severe fog to the mix and the prospects of harvesting the first bowshot deer of the year diminish quickly. That was my mindset last night, Friday night before the final day of deer season here in Pa.
Last year I was blessed to arrow my first trad deer. I had shot deer with rifles, but the sacred arc of the arrow had not brought meat yet into my home until a medium size doe with a gimp was mercifully culled from the herd. I was proud, and above all thankful, that God had let me take a deer with stick and string. This year marked my second shooting left handed and I prayed without ceasing for another chance.
Up until this point in the season, I had seen deer but the only ones to wander into range were yearlings. I preferred to allow them the chance to live a little, procreate, and grow into mature deer. Once, I had the opportunity to grunt in a rather large 8 pointer. However, he stopped 5 steps short of comfortable for me, living to see another day.
Rifle season saw me in stand with a rifle, looking to fill the freezer. I won't say that I don't enjoy the gun, but it's just not the same. I took a doe and was thankful for the food. Heartbreak hit a week later when I wounded a large 8-10 pointer with the same gun. It was the first buck I had ever shot at and the first deer I had wounded. I am quite sure he is still around today.
It was with his memory that I went back to that same stand in the rain, in the fog, praying to have a chance to see and finish with him. The still fog was eerily quiet with only the sound of rain in the trees to mask my entry into the woods. Almost all of the snow from last week's storm had melted leaving the seat in the stand clogged with water. It was early enough though and I sloshed myself into position.
30 minutes later, silouettes appeared 50 yards ahead up the hill. Dawn had already broken, but it was difficult to know that in the dense fog. Several doe made their way east in front of me. It seemed they were aware that I was there as I stood to get a better look. Mental note, today is not a good day to stand. Sit still, then shoot if the opportunity presents itself. Opportunity was the right word, or perhaps providence. I settled back into the seat with the knowledge that if I was to have a shot, it would have to be to my right. Left was just too hard to do today with the branches, fog, and the eerie quietness.
Sometimes it is hard to thank God and to be content. Here I am, sitting in the fog and rain and what are the chances that I was going to see, much less shoot, any deer on the last day? As those thoughts spun in my head I realized my chances were exactly 100% or 0% and it all depended on whether God would provide the opportunity or not. I could be content with that. I started praying thankfully for that realization, thanking God that I was in the woods, for friends and family.
When deer cross a creek 30 yards behind you, it's pretty obvious. The problem is, you don't have much time to prepare, and when you are praying silently it's tough not to jump! I knew that sound and by God's grace I held still, peeking over my right shoulder to see a fairly mature buck and two youngin's not 25 yards away. The older fella lead the group across the tractor road I guarded, but the youngin's were too preoccupied with the shadow 15 ft up in the tree to follow. Dang! They knew I was there. Patience. Providence.
I waited and moved nothing. Finally, the closest young buck put his head down. I drew efficiently, choosing a spot behind the shoulder of the big guy standing with his head to the ground 17 yards away. No time to think, only feel. A silent thump and the arrows implanted itself into the ground on the far side of the buck, bright red blood covering the white wrap and vanes. I had hit him about 2 inches high almost dead center, further back than I had wanted but I knew it was fatal.
The three deer bounded quickly up the hill in front of me, stopping 40 yards away to check things out before then galloped across the field. 100%. Those were my odds today. We waited and searched for a while. Blood was even more impossible to find today than it usually is for me. We found nothing, but I trusted the shot. After about an hour of searching, we found him. I gave thanks again for God's grace, knowing that I did not deserve the buck but that God desired to give him to me anyway.
My first buck, the last day of the season.
Pics to follow.....
Topic: Last day, first buck (Read 726 times)
