Snow started falling this afternoon at around one o'clock, changing my plans of taking the day off in order to spend it with the family. A storm front hadn't been forcast for today, but how often are our weathermen right anymore?
I announced to everyone in the house that I would be leaving shortly in order to go sit for the afternoon; some laughed, others nodded with that knowing look on their faces - today was Thanksgiving andit was snowing, it could be magic in the making. Quickly I threw on my layers, regretting that I hadn't washed them since the day before. While driving to our property, Josh Turner's "Backwoods Boy" was blaring through my speakers. Singing about sitting in his stand, hopes of shooting a 10-point bucksuddenly had my head swimming with images of having such luck myself.
Arriving at my parking spot at around a quarter to two, I rushed to throw all of my gear together, it was still another 10 minute walk to the stand. After climbing into the tree and pulling my bow up, I was suprised to see a small 2x2 amble through, solidifying my thinking that today could indeed turn out to be a good one.
For those of you who don't know me well, I'm an avid reader and generally carry a book with my to read while on stand. I had just finished a rather good chapter in Agatha Christie's
'A Murder is Announced' when I decided to rattle the horns I had brought with me. I finished my sequence after about 45 seconds, set the antlers down and readied myself. After several minutes of no activity, I hung my bow back on the limb above me and commenced to reading - the book was starting to really take off.
I finished several paragraphs and looked up. Seeing nothing in front of me, I peered to my right and behind me just as he stepped from cover. In my head, I immediately counted "1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4...5! Shooter!" Slipping the book into my hip pocket, I continued to watch as the buck looked around for the fight that had apparently just gone down in the area. As he stepped behind a group of trees to my right, I slipped my bow off of its hook and clipped my release to my string.
And he stopped.
And he stayed.
For more than a minute, I waited for him to make some movement, queing me to draw and get ready. Finally he took a step and my string immediately came back, settling into my anchor comfortably; I had practiced this numerous times. Again he stopped and again I waited, the angle wasn't
just right. Two more steps and he was mine - and he gave me those two steps before the thought even fully formed. My pin was solid, tight to his shoulder, and a split second after I released I heard what we all live to hear "
THWACK!"
I watched as he ran roughly 50 yards and tipped over, not 15 yards from the road. To those who haven't been there, haven't experienced it, its difficult to explain that it happened
just that fast. He stopped, I shot, he ran and died. This is when the adrenaline set in. I hung my bow up, sat down, and shook. I thought "Yes!" and "Thank You!" and "Yes!" several times before grabbing the binoculars. Glassing him, I knew I needn't wait the customary 30-minutes before climbing down.
I lowered my bow and then myself and the rest of my gear from the tree. Walking up to where my arrow was squarely stuck in the ground, I was suprised to see a blood trail that even a blind man could follow leading in the direction I watched the buck make his final mad dash. I snapped a couple pictures and continued to where I had watched the buck go down.
As I walked up to him, Ifelt no ground shrinkage.He was as I had imagined he would be, though I hadn't noticed that one of his brow tines was broken in half. I set my things down beside him and sat there, just the deer and me for several minutes. I spent that time thanking Whoever might have been out there listening for the animal I had been provided.
The snow continued to fall as I snapped some pictures and got down to business. Loading a deer into a lifted pick-up isn't the easiest thing to do on your own, but I got it done. It was indeed a magical evening in the woods tonight and for that, on today of all days, I am thankful.
The arrow [Ever see all three fletching get blown off on impact?];
The trail was like this and heavier in spots all the way to the deer;
The hero shot;
The entrance;
This fall, I was shooting/using the following;
2007 Hoyt Vulcan (70#, 28" draw, 297fps)
27.25" Easton Full Metal Jackets (426 grains total)
100 grain Shuttle-T Lock broadheads
Thanksgiving Day success
