This story is a bit late, as the hunt it details occurred in early November, but I’ve been busy with work and haven’t had a chance to put it on paper.
I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to live in southeast Iowa, more specifically in my hometown of Oskaloosa. This places me within a few minutes of the farms and wildlife areas I grew up on hunting and fishing. While located in the heart of big buck country, surrounded by hunters with the fastest bows, latest gadgets, and the nicest blinds and stands, I choose to pursue my quarry with a recurve. Though I’d be more than happy with a monster Iowa whitetail on my wall, I don’t prioritize antlers. My goal is simply to enjoy the experience, and to get as close as I can to my quarry.
This afternoon found me sitting in a fencerow that ran between a field of picked soybeans, and a narrow strip of abandoned pasture that was bordered on the opposite side by a stand of trees along a small creek. I had a fallen tree in front of me hiding my outline, and a mulberry tree and an abandoned grain wagon at my back.
As the sun started to set to my left, I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. The first doe slowly worked her way out of the neighboring woods and into the picked beans followed by her two first year fawns.
Another doe worked her way slowly down the fence line coming toward me from the crop ground to the north. She was right on track to cross in front of me at sixteen yards if she followed the path she was on. When she passed behind the large red oak tree in front of her I’d draw.
After watching her slowly feed her way towards me for close to half an hour, she was finally approaching the oak tree when she froze. I thought maybe she’d discovered me hiding behind that tree limb, but couldn’t imagine she’d noticed me sitting perfectly still in good cover. Suddenly it became very clear what startled her, as a young doe came from the north running full speed right past her. The young doe stopped on a dime at twenty three yards, made a ninety degree turn jumped the fence about twenty five yards north of me and fled the scene. To make matters worse, she took the older doe with her.
I didn’t have much time to mourn the missed opportunity at the doe though. As she bounded off to the west through the soybean stubble with the younger doe, I caught a glare of white from the north. The young doe had been running from a decent eight point buck. He trotted up over the hill, nose to the ground, following her every footstep. He stopped and turned exactly where the young doe had, and as he turned, I came to full draw. I watched the heavy aluminum shaft bury itself behind his shoulder, and heard a dull thud as it hit the shoulder on the far side, a solid quartering away shot. He jumped straight into the air, as if to buck off some imaginary rider from above, and took off back to the north. In total, I probably saw the buck on his feet for six seconds. It all happened so fast I hardly had a chance to react. I’d gone from preparing for a shot, to frustration over missed opportunity, to letting an arrow go at a decent buck in less time than it takes me to string my bow.
After waiting a very long twenty minutes and calming down a bit, I paced off the distance to the place of impact. A hair over twenty yards. There lay the back twenty inches of my arrow, the aluminum sheared off by the bucks shoulder when he jumped.
A short walk and I found the buck at the end of a solid blood trail. He’d made it to the edge of the trees that border the creek and ran out of steam. After taking a moment to admire him, I snapped some pictures and field dressed him. Another great experience in the woods. Another memory I’ll never forget, and a nice stash of venison in the freezer.
Topic: November Buck Story - A little late. (Read 926 times)
