I can never help but be amused at the curve balls old Ma Nature has thrown me over the years. Now and then she throws a hanger and a guy can hit it out of the park and feel "good" about himself. However more often than not, it is one of thoseviciouscurve balls that you swear is going to takeyour headoffbut ends up catching thecorner of the plate;which in turnleaves yousitting on your behind in the dirt, humiliated, as an imaginary umpire in your headscreams STRIKE THREE, YOUR OUT!!!

There are many examples I can think of but I won't bore you with the details. Trust me, there are enough "events" that have "occurred" during my hunting adventuresto keep me humble for the rest of my life. I am sure I have made every mistake in the book and then made some more that haven't been thought up yet. I know how it feels to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Nevertheless, even a blind squirrel finds an acorn every now and then. My meager "mountain top"conquests happen occasionally so that gives a stumble-bum like me hope and I continue with much enthusiasm on my bow hunting quest each year.

One of the things that makes bowhunting so wonderful is the same thing that makes it so painful. The time and energy spent in this insane endeavor goes beyond what most "normal" people are willing to expend. The scouting, gaining access, choosingthe perfectlocation, hanging stands, cutting lanes, movingthose perfectly locatedstands, practicing all year round, dollars spent on equipment, clothing, fuel...the heat, the cold...and then when all of the above criteriahas been satisfied (for the most part), you get to sit...and sit...and sit...then you sit some more. Did I mention the heat, the cold, the bugs, and all kinds of elements that attempt to drive one from their vigil. There is one "magic" ingredient that all bow hunters must possess in order to persevere against theseover whelming odds---Hope! If you ever lose hope you can pack it in baby!!

If you spend many hours sitting in the stand like some people I know, waiting for a "big one" to walk by, you know what I mean by hope. The anticipation of the next buck that shows upbeing the one that youare looking forkeeps a guy coming back day after day, week after week, rain or shine.

So here we are almost a month into the season (I must confess there was one day I didn't get to hunt) and until today I had not seen a mature buck. Needless to say I am plenty ready loose an arrow!!!

On my fifth hour on the stand today I catch some movement forty yards in front of me. Suddenly life is good!! Hope is visited by reality!!It is a huge bodied buck. Even at this distance I see good mass at the bases and a decent spread, I find myself mouthing the words "He is a shooter for sure!". Once I have arrived at that decision I no longer pay any attention to the animals horns.

As he moves within range I am awestruck by his girth. It is no exaggeration when I say that he passed the two hundred pound marker sometime ago and I am guessing he is easily scaring that third century mile stone in terms of his weight. Describing this guy as "Big bodied" would be an injustice to this bruiser.That would be like describing the Titanic as a "big boat". As you would expect from a mature buck this time of year, his neck was swollen like an over inflated tire which only added to his magnificence. Yep, I am caught up in the moment and my plan is to take this bad boy down....

I am all hooked up, come to full draw, and I am ready for the Allegiance to spit fire when fate steps in...

Just before I can settle the pin on the "spot" in the crease he changes position leaving me with a poor angle. He is not "wired"and I let down. It is obvious he is going to walk right by me at less than 10 yards and I can kill him with a quartering shot once he passes. Then I do something I rarely do, and that is to examine his rack even though I have decided he is a shooter.

It is only then that I realize I am having trouble seeing points coming up off of his main beams. I am thinking, how can they all be broken off so early in the season? He stops momentarily below me and I get an excellent view of his head gear. Sure enough all his points are intact. He is an eight but his longest tine might be four inches, five at the most. He might gross 115 if I stretched the tape...

Iput my bow back on the hanger as he walksout of my lifeand chuckle atanother cruel joke Mother Nature just put over on me....

Antler Eater, I tell ya man... I've missed you. Your writing and hunting saavy is appreciated by me more than you know. It's good to see you back in here. Maybe one day we can get a chance to hook up and trade a couple hunting trips. Every once in a while, I seem to stumble upon a decentlittle buckin Illinois. [:-]

MQ1,

Heh heh, it is I that admires your writing my friend...

Anytime buddy, anytime....

Thanks for sharing. Great read!!

Tim

Thanks for a great post!

I tell you what, I'm in tune with that feeling. It seems like by the time I have all of the bugs worked out in my hunting strategy, the season is over.

Good read Antler Eater. I am sure your luck will get better and you will get the one you are looking for under your tree!!!!

Great Post Antler, I agree with MQ, your reads are always appreciated. Welcome back and you certainly won that battle....the season is young and hope is high, hang in there and I can't wait to read the harvest report.

Good read, I enjoy hearing stories/experiences in that vein. I always try to stretch my limits so Mother Nature has the opportunity to teach me new things. After all there would be no peaks in life if there were no valleys, and then what a dismal world we would live in.

Thanks for all of the nice words fellas. They are much appreciated...


The funny part is if I would have done what I normally do andshot this brute, the shrinkage factor would have been greater than George Costanza's.