Sorry it's long, but it was already written:
Disappointment in Little Cuba[/b]
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[/b]Opening week of gun season meant a lot of things to me. Cold days, long hikes, sardines for lunch and at least one trip into Little Cuba for a hunt. The numerous thick brushy ridges that envelope the area welcomes deer. Year in and year out someone always brings a good buck out of there so we always keep coming back and as a 10 year old boy, I dreamed this year it would be me.
The night before our planned hunt my dad, my cousin Neal and myself discussed where we would make our stands. Dad suggested that I take a stand that in the past had proven itself as worthy of all day deer traffic. This stand was nestled on top of a piney ridge facing the south with a thick brushy ridge to my left and an open ridge to my right.
That morning we all confirmed our plans for the day and headed out. After a short hike I was at my stand about 30 min before daylight. I scrapped out the leaves from around two pines and got out my seat cushion. I pulled out my Tinks 69 and opened the lid. All was set. I got settled in and waited for daylight.
About 7:30 I heard what I was pretty sure was deer just down the ridge from me. I got my gun up and laid across my knees. It sounded like a couple deer so in my head I rationalized that it was a doe and a buck. It was probably wishful thinking but it was more comforting to think that I was hearing a buck coming toward me. After about 10 minutes the noise subsided and I lowered my gun.
An hour passed and I had not heard anything in the way of a deer so I pulled out my grunt tube and gave a few grunts. Tucked it away in my coveralls and got ready again. Back in the same direction that I had originally heard the first deer I heard another crashing sound. This time it was getting louder and closer. I again laid my gun across my knees and got ready. They were getting closer and closer. This time it appeared I was going to get to see the maker of all the commotion. However, when they got just about to the point where I expected to see them at any time they all stopped. Maybe if I grunt then they’ll come the rest of the way[/i] I thought. So I eased my grunt tube out and gave a two grunt sequence. Nothing happened. I grunted again. Again nothing happened. It was as if nothing was there listening to me. A couple minutes later the sound began again. I thought to myself here we go, they’re coming in. [/i]However, to my surprise, the sound I was hearing quickly became the sound of them going in the other direction.
I discussed my up and down day with dad over the radio and he told me of the things he had seen. It was a pretty day so I was prepared to sit all day if necessary. Dad’s suggestion to me was a common suggestion that he had to me and that was “Be patient, they’ll be back.”
Like always, dad was right. About an hour later I heard the same crashing sound coming from the same direction. This time I thought to myself maybe if I stand I’ll be able to see further and if in case they don’t come all the way. [/i]They were getting closer and closer. I could feel my heart racing. All of a sudden I caught movement. Then more movement. Now I knew for sure it was deer. Then I glanced on top of the ridge and there stood a deer. I put it in the scope and quickly saw that it was a doe. I found another deer and scoped it. Sweet! This one had horns. It was only a spike but it was a legal buck. It took a couple steps and turned broadsided to me at about 30 yards. I cocked the hammer back and laid the crosshairs on its shoulder. I touched it off. Boom! I worked the lever expecting to see a white belly laying on the ground. But to my surprise all the deer did was turn around and face the other direction. Again I put the crosshairs on his shoulder and touched another one off. Boom! This time they decided they had enough. Down over the ridge they went, back in the direction that they came. Surely I hit it[/i]. I thought to myself. How could I miss, it was no more than 30 yards. [/i]By this time Dad had called me on the radio asking if that was me shooting. I quickly confirmed that it was and told him of my encounter with the buck. He told me to sit tight and he would be up to me in a bit.
I packed up my stuff in preparation for the pending tacking of my deer. Dad arrived at my stand a few min later and we began our search. He asked where the deer was standing and I pointed and told him which way the left in. We frantically searched the leaves for hair, blood or anything else that would give us some indication of a hit deer. However, we found nothing. Dad asked what happened when I shot. I explained how when I shot the first time the deer just basically turned around so I shot the second time and then they left. Dad did a sweep of the area and I went back to my stand to make sure I knew where the buck was standing when I shot. About that time dad radioed me and told me to come to him. Yes! He found blood! [/i]I thought. I got to where dad was standing and like many times on our hunts he quizzed me. “What do you see?” I searched the ground frantically looking for some kind of sign. “Higher.” He said. I looked about 2 ½ feet above the ground at a pine about 6 inches in diameter to see two fresh bullet holes. “How in the world did that happen?” I asked. “I guess you didn’t see it.” Dad retorted. My emotions hit rock bottom. All the anticipation of finding my deer sank as I began to realize that I had completely missed.
Every year Dad would take all of the pictures that we had taken during the year to make an album. So he pulled out his camera and took a pic of the pine I had shot. He said “We’ll call this one, Scott’s Spike”.
We both returned to our stands and sat out the rest of the morning. I kept replaying what had just happened over and over in my mind trying to figure out how in the world I didn’t see that tree. Neither of us killed anything that day unless you want to count my pine tree spike.