G'day TradGang! It's been way too long since I've contributed. But something happened yesterday that was really significant for me, and I want to share the little story with you mob. It involves hunting buffalo.
I've been out of the bowhunting scene for a few years. Some tough stuff happened, and I didn't have the mental or emotional energy to do archery. I barely touched a bow. I sold my heavy bows to pay bills and finance other things, as I truly thought I'd never have a use for them again. Then I went for a bit of a sea-change this year, making the transition from town teaching to remote bush teaching in an Aboriginal community. It really has given me a new lease on life, I'm happy to say. So, I found myself in the middle of Buffalo Heaven, with no suitable bow. Being that I cut my bowhunting teeth to a large extent on Black Widow longbows, it was a familiar and trusted choice for me to make an order for another. I took delivery of it three weeks ago, and have been practicing as much as I can. It is a take-down bow of 66", 75# @ 28", tillered for three-under. It has that larger "Toby Grip". It has tiger myrtle veneers and a zircote riser, with no red glass. I love it. I'm just running some old Grizzlystik Safaris through it, with brass inserts and steel adaptors. And STOS broadheads. They weigh not much more than 900 grains. I named the bow "The Pilgrim" after a Kristofferson song that helped me through, and the Black Widow team wrote it on the top limb.
Some of you may recall that almost ten years ago, as a novice bowhunter, I killed a young buffalo bull with a 60# recurve. I never really forgave myself for killing that bull, because I didn't earn it by hunting it. I simply stepped out of the vehicle and shot it with my bow, and regretted it ever since. For years I then tried to hunt one the right way, hiking and stalking, without success. Then my few opportunities dried-up. Until now.
This past weekend, my girlfriend and I packed the ute and headed to the river to set-up camp. From there we could hunt the nearby swamps and creeks. We soon found that mornings and evenings were the best chances to get close, as during the day the animals are far too alert as they rest, and the wind is far too fickle.
Yesterday evening, we walked away from camp to some nice grazing in some swampy country. Getting to fifty metres was easy enough, but then I was stuck. No matter where I moved, I would be seen. With nothing to lose, I tested an idea that I'd been working on. See, buffalo don't like people much, and if they see us, they're gone. By crawling really low, it prevents them from recognising the human form. So I crawled to the only suitable tree, flat on my belly, just using my toes to push me along, and pushing my bow in front of me. I had left the back-up rifle back with Meg, kind-of by mistake. I made it to that tree, and eased into a sitting position. If I peeked around to the right, I could see the bull looking at me. If I peeked around to the left, I could see the cow and yearling looking at me. They could probably see my knees and feet, and parts of my bow. They were about twenty-five metres away, front-on. No shot opportunity for me. I need them to be side-on and even closer. I've really struggled with target panic in hunting situations over my last few years of bowhunting. I wouldn't pick a spot, I wouldn't even get to full-draw let alone anchor. So I sat there behind the tree waiting, and decided to calm myself down. I came to full-draw and aimed at the tree. I just held and aimed at this tree two feet in front of me, while the buffalo on the other side tried to puzzle it all out. Then I slowly let down. Some more time went past. I thought these buffalo would turn and dash away at any moment, so I thought I would take the opportunity to work on my target panic some more. I leaned out to see the bull, and came to full-draw, ordering myself to hold and aim, and not to shoot. And I did it! The bull was there, front-on at twenty-five metres, and I drew on his chest and aimed without releasing the arrow. I gently lowered the string and resumed waiting. More time passed. Suddenly the bull remembered how hungry he was and put his head down to resume grazing. He moved into full view of me, but still quartering-on too hard. I got ready. At twenty-two metres he was almost side-on, just quartering-to ever so slightly. I picked a spot just forward of the shoulder, a third of the way up. I drew, anchored and aimed. And suddenly my arrow was there, right on target. Half-penetration. He bucked and whirled and snapped the arrow. The three of them galloped about a hundred metres before he stopped, wobbled and collapsed. I looked back to wave Meg over. The bull rose, slowly walked twenty more metres, and went down for good. We got there a few minutes later, and there wasn't even a flicker.
I'm still feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all. I'm very thankful.
Topic: A Dream Come True (Read 1742 times)
