Missouri's firearms deer season started this past Saturday (11/14/15) and I decided to get a bit more bowhunting in before the Orange Army hit the woods so I took off Thursday and Friday to do so. I got to my farm in south-central Missouri Wednesday afternoon where Dad awaited me with open arms and hot food. The weather for the next few days was going to be prime and I was really excited about my chances of adding more meat to my freezer. Not that I really needed it, though. I had gotten lucky enough to kill a moose with my longbow in September so anything else would just be icing on the cake.
I hunted Thursday morning on the high ridge behind our barn. There is an old logging loading ground up there at the north end and a big oak flat that the deer and turkeys just love to feed in. On either side of the flat is a hollow steeper than a horse's face. Not 15 minutes after shooting light, I see a little 9-pointer coming my way. He is halfheartedly chasing a doe and I figure I will shoot whichever one gives me the first chance. Well, neither one of them gave me a great opportunity and I let them both pass without tightening the string. I am using my Lucky Arrow that I killed my moose with. I thought the arrow was lost during that hunt but my guide miraculously found it four days later. With a little soap and water and a broadhead touchup, it was good as new.
After another 15 minutes, a doe and a fawn come in to the loading ground and I, again, am not picky about who to shoot at. The doe finally gives me a pretty good shot at 15 yards and I send my lucky arrow her direction. Unfortunately, she turns just as I shoot and as she runs off down into Tater Cave Holler, I am sickened by the sight of my arrow falling out of her off side angling front-to-back instead of back-to-front. She disappears from my sight and I mark the spot with some landmarks. I know that I've just gut shot this deer and the rest of the day is going to be a long one. I wait 20 minutes or so in the stand and am given a glimmer of hope when I catch a glimpse of the fawn at the spot where I last saw the doe. Maybe she is down after all? I decide to get down and tentatively check out the blood trail. I find my arrow with gut material on it and I start feeling dread again. To make a long story short, though, I find the deer right where I though she was. I hit her liver square on and she died while I watched, although I didn't know that at the time. The relief I feel is immense and I give thanks to the doe's spirit for the meat she will provide.
Now the job is dragging her out of the holler. It is 200 yards straight up to the closest place I can get my truck. But with some rope, some sweat and a little cussing I manage to get the job done. She is gutted and hung up in the barn yard and I clean my lucky arrow and put it back into service. Tomorrow is another day and another hunt.
Friday morning is crisp and cold and you can almost reach out, grab the air and break a piece off. I hunt at the south end of our farm at a place we call the Deer Turnaround. There is an old skid trail that goes about halfway up the ridge down there and my dad has a food plot and salt lick at the end of it where you can turn a truck around. Deer are everywhere and I have to kick the turkeys out of the way just to get to them! I have several close encounters but no shots are fired. At around 9:00 am, a doe and button buck come to the salt lick and mess around. The button separates from his mom and stands about 20 yards in front of me. It's cold so I draw on him just to loosen my muscles up. He then proceeds to scratch his offside with his head giving me a shot that is too good to pass up. I let the arrow go and watch him run down the hillside with it sticking out of both of his sides. In a little while, Momma goes looking for her baby and I see her hanging around the spot where I had last seen him. That is a good sign! I take a compass reading on the spot, get down and head that direction. I find the little feller in short order but this time my arrow did not survive the encounter. I do find my broadhead so all is not lost. Again, I give thanks to the deer's spirit and prepare for the work ahead.
The drag I get to do is downhill this time and I have him hanging up next to the other one in no time at all.
On Sunday, I shot the little 9-pointer that I saw on Thursday with my flintlock rifle but that is another story for another forum. Life is good!
Darren
Topic: Two days, two deer, one arrow (Read 674 times)
