FOOLING BUCKS ON THE FIRST
As my eyes adjusted themselves to the gloom of early morning, I could slowly recognise the shape above me. I could make out the richness of the hair on his swollen neck that almost looked like fur. I marveled at his crown of bone with its ivory tips that stood out above him asserting his dominance and his steely stare that never strayed.
In the darkness my eyes strained, pupils dilated sourcing every particle of light to make out the form of the bucks head and shoulders. At this moment I assured myself in my head that this is what I was here for.
I stayed motionless for a while not wanting to move, the bucks stare had still not faltered, steadfast like a statue of a fallen king watching over his kingdom.
A noise in front of me drew my attention away from the motionless buck and again momentarily my eyes struggled against darkness, now with thoughts and vision affixed on the direction from which the sound was emanating. I began to realise the laboured sound of footfalls approaching.
I readied myself and took another fleeting glance back up in the direction of the buck. He was still there poised above me, his eternal gaze not spooked by the commotion in the twilight. Slowly a small sliver of light cut through the darkness like the drawing of a knife across flesh exposing what was once concealed within.
My pupils snapped back as if under tension to a size much smaller, much like the recoiling of a hand from a flame. Now what was once darkness was now light and I struggled to focus on the figure in front of me…. Beckoning me to rise from my semi slumberous state and get ready to join him on a pre-rut deer hunt.
This was the only enticing I needed to ready myself for a hunt with my host Jim. One last glance up at one of Jims trophy fallow mounted above my bed and I was ready to go.
Jim and I had met while attending a Deer hunting show at in Victoria a southern state of Australia.
He had extended an offer to me to come hunt fallow with him during the oncoming rut, which usually kicks in the second week of April. There are many factors that can delay or accelerate this time frame,
deer population the amount of feed and weather seem to be key factors, these factors determine whether or not it will be a silent walk in the bush or one filled with frenzied grunting.
It turned out the only time I could get off work was before the rut was in full swing, but never the less we organised for me to come down for a week in late March and to leave on the second of April, due to my work commitments.
After a couple of days of checking other properties, there always seemed to be one or two of the key factors missing which only led to fleeting glimpses of fallow, the first of April had rolled around and my trip was slowly reaching its end.
As we bumped along the narrow track in the gloom of early morning, I would glance into the mirror on the door of Jims truck, mesmerized by the cloud of dust tinted red from the rear lights being enveloped by the darkness behind us as if it was a smoldering fire being coaxed back to life.
Like this smoldering fire, my ambition to hunt deer again had been growing inside of me and while I gazed out of the window into the fading darkness, seeing the beauty of the land we were going to hunt was like a great breath on to the embers, firing my dreams for the hunt.
We pulled up to the gate with the windows of the truck wound down, listening for the arrogant grunting of a dominant buck, but we were greeted by another sound.
Bellowing from the twilight was the throaty roar of a red stag in the distance; this quickened our senses and set us about gathering our gear with great haste.
As we moved quietly in the darkness across the paddock towards the tree line, all was quiet. Then in front, aware of our approach, a chocolate buck materialised from a thicket and made his retreat to the timber leaving us only with another fleeting glimpse of a deer and another breath on to the fire that was growing within me.
Hastened by the sight of this deer, we quickly maneuvered into the edge of the timber and started working our way down a track towards some scrapes that Jim knew were being used.
The bush was starting to come alive now as the twilight lifted like the curtain lifting in a theatre to the sounds of hands clapping and shouts from the crowd, except we were hearing the music from the animals that call the beautiful Australian bush home.
As we rounded another bend, Jim and I immediately stopped, as something we were seeing was exactly what we were looking for. Two white flanks stood out in the green bush with the sun now shining onto them almost making them glisten as they swayed while the young buck asserted his dominance on a wiry sapling.
Unawares of our presence, we slid behind a large boulder and got ourselves as ready as we could for what was about to unfold. We were both positioned behind the boulder that was dug into the side of the hill, so the ground came level to its top of which I could just see over.
Jim was crouched to my right and as I glanced down towards him I could see him hurriedly reaching into his pack with an excited look upon his face. As I moved my attention back to the buck, it was clear the sapling was no match for him and he was keen to find a more worthy adversary. As he started to depart to his left in the direction I was facing there came several inconsistent cracks to my right.
As I peered back over my shoulder I saw Jim doing his best to imitate a scuffle between two rivals. This had the desired effect on the buck as he wheeled back to his right to defend his territory. I could feel the flames rise within me as the adrenalin coursed through my veins spreading the fire even further within.
As he disappeared behind the boulder I change position to face my right just in time to conceal my movements as the buck was following a game trail around our position that would have him end up on our right and slightly behind us.
Looking back now I am amazed at how focused I was with a deer so close. I remember saying to myself in my head, “draw while his head’s behind the bushes,” taking queue from all the bowhunting books I’ve read in the past.
He cleared the scrub and paused at twelve meters intently looking downhill for the invaders. At this point I subconsciously released and watched as my yellow fletches disappeared through the chest of the deer. His attempt to out maneuver the arrow proved futile as it was to close and too fast to be avoided.
He ran forward around and underneath us. Just as he slowed, he went out of site over a small ridge. Jim and I faced each other and I swear he looked as happy on the outside as I felt on the inside and my portrayal of the event was starting to show on my exterior by this point to.
After picking up my now crimson arrow I was certain of a fatal shot, but after a short wait while we discussed the hit, we started to follow the buck’s path to the edge of the ridge. The lack of blood had me puzzled at first after the sight of my claret stained missile. As we continued to where we had last seen the deer I Nervously scanned for any sign that would betray his direction of travel, Jim re assured me he wouldn’t have gone far. Unbeknownst to me, due to his lofty stature, Jim had already located the buck.
That’s when I laid eyes on him, my second deer laying at the bottom of the ridge. He had made twenty five meters then succumbed to his fatal wound and gravity had aided in bringing him to his final resting place
Topic: FOOLING BUCKS ON THE FIRST. (Read 549 times)
