Went out hunting yesterday afternoon and decided to try a different spot than usual. The bush I hunt is on a large embankment over a river, I found a spot where there were fresh trails leading from the main deer trail at the top of the cliff and lead down to the river. I climbed the steep hill and dug a little hole to situate myself in without sliding down 50 yards to the bottom. My thought was that the deer would come down from my back andI would get them going by me, didn't work like that though.
About a half hour before it started getting dark I did my final series of calling, as I watched a whole bunch of turkeys fly from the far side of the river to my side to roost. I heard a wheeze and readied myself, I seen him walking across the river towards me 85 yards out, hit the bank 50 yards down and started walking the other way. One quick bleat and I lost track of him, thought he was gone for good.In a few minutes he popped up in a washout 20 yards away walking straight towards me, then disappeared into the washout and popped up right beside me, I was so ready! When he got closer he turned and gave me a perfect broadside and I took it. He hopped across to the next washout (15 yards away) and turned around to look at me, I thought I had somehow missed him. He crumpled, just fell over and rolled down almost to the bottom. Found him there dead.
I went back this morning to locate a lost flashlight and the broken arrow I pulled from his chest cavity and measured where he was, I hit the deer at 9', sitting on a gravel hill with no cover.
My father in law came down to help me drag it down the river and taught me how to prep it. He is a small buck, but mine all the same.
That was one of the most exhilarating experiences I have ever had.
A big thanks to those who had me ready for that moment, you know who you are.