I set up a new stand last night in a finger of woods that jutted out intosome cut corn not too far off one of the corners of the field. About five o'clock, I had a yearling doe come out and feed out to about seventy yards away. After watching her for nearly fifteen minutes and determining she was alone (I figure she may have been too young to go into estrous this year), I coaxed her over with my True Talker. The freezer really needs some filling right now, and she would be plenty tender.
She finally offered a very slight quartering-away shot at about 25 yards, and I gently touched off the release. At impact, I heard a loud crack and watched her run forward and circle out into the middle of the field about 75 yards away. She stopped and seemed to gather her senses before hobbling on over to the left edge of the field. I glassed her with my Nikons and could see I had been justa hair forward with my shot, shattering her right shoulder bone which was already covered with blood. She stood at the edge of the field fora few more moments before slipping into the woods.
I slipped out and walked the long way around the field to get to my vehicle, and noticed the Jeep's temperature read that it was still 74 degrees after sundown. Coupled with the numerous coyotes in the area, I decided to head to a local diner for supper and return within a couple hours, hoping not to lose the meat to either the temperature or the dogs.
Two and a half hours later found me following a Coleman propane lantern at arm's length, methodically searching out each drop of blood. After 45 minutes of tracking and 150 yards later, I jumped her up in a cane thicket. She didn't sound like she ran but about 20 feet or so, but it made up my mind for me; I was backing out.
My wife's schedule was packed with bible study and commitments to area volunteer organizations this morning, so I headed back over to my hunting area with my son in tow this morning. We easily found my last square of toilet paper and resumed the trail. To my chagrin, I saw that after I jumped her last night, she crossed a small 15-foot wide creek with 10-foot banks going almost straight down on both sides. I put my son on my shoulder and we took the plunge, and found that the water was just deep enough topour overthe top and fill my Lacrosse boots.
We picked up thetrail on the other side, but couldn't tellwhich way she'd veered off after standing on the other side for a moment. After a10-minute search on my hands and knees, I finally found one more drop of blood that led me to where she lay about six yards past that.
Thisis the second deer my son has got to gohelp meretrieve this year, and he's having a ball doing it. On the way back, Iasked, "Did you help Daddy get a doe?"He nodded yes, and said, "She was hiding!"
