A story about "The Night He Went Stick" by MW74
06-12-2008 | 07:57 PM
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Nontypical Buck
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A story about "The Night He Went Stick" by MW74
In 1994 I wrote a story about my first kill with a longbow. It was a laminate bow that my friends father made for me in 1992. If you have the patience, stick around and read...its pretty neat..and that day changed me more than you will ever know...
THE NIGHT HE WENT STICK
He was a young bowhunter, one with instincts only other hunters could witness. He had been taught by family. His uncles & father had the knowledge to live off the land if they had too. When he turned 11 his uncles took him by their side on all their hunts demonstrating to him about the correct hunting technique and ethic.
The December winds howled across the desolate wheat fields and the 1994 dear season was coming to an end. As the sun peaked over the leafless trees his six point buck hung near the coupe. It was the Michigan muzzleloader season and killing with sticks and strings at the age of 12 was less common as technology made its way upon him. At the age of 20 he had already bagged 18 whitetails and a few other big game animals. Nearby,His uncles rag chewedin the cabin about flint heads and wood curing for indian bows. The young man sat outside the cabin listening as he flung blunts from his long bow into the plowed dirt field. With his frozen finger tips he still kept firing until he had the satisfaction. The camp members badgered the young fella all the time about using his wheeled weapon. The following day the young man made his quest. In arrogance, he felt it was time to show his leaders what true instinct he held within.From afar he lookedlike an indian in search for food, but he was moreless a young man in search for respect.
At 2:30 he threw on his snow camo and down filled underwear. The sound of his boot laces squeaked as his sweaty finger tips tied the knots. The man was ready, confident, and eager to kill. Tip towing through the white forest he stopped several feet from the stand to check his wind. With the wind in his face he was confident in a silent entry. The cold wind made his nose run drastically only to let it run down his face; knowing the sound of a little sniffle could terminate his chance for sucess. Climbing the tree like a cat he noticed the platform of his stand was like an ice arena. His heart was pounding in temptation as he lifted his camo leg up to the stand. Creeek! it echoed throughout the woods. He knew that any movement on the platformcould kill his chance for success. He molded himself to the tree to conceal his presence. The only thing he had to hold was a stick with a thin piece of cedar and a head named "Zwickey". As he observed his surroundings he went over and over on how he would be able to close the deal considering how loud his platform was....Why didn't he just kick of the snow and ice when he got to the tree? His instincts told him no..he needed to stay silent..The young man sat quietly making his plan on how he could fire the stick sitting down. Moving his eyes back and forth he began picking out opening in the woods on where he could & could not shoot. All his ideas and planning had built a barrier for success when the moment would finally arrive. His joints ached and his finger tips started to freeze. The sweaty walk in caused him to start freezing almost instintly after climbing the stand.
After sitting for several minutes he spotted deer off to his left moving toward the stand in a single file. Soon the deer were at the base of his stand feeding. Seven deer herded around him like flies as he remained motionless. Three of the deerwere big females and they were directly below him...The hunter shook with nervousness as fourteen eyes stood on guard of their territory. Think! Think! Where can I take my shot! Nowwhere Yet! One of the big doe(s) walks out 12 yards angling away. Ok....there's a shot. But wait....I can't move...or the other six deer will spook...am I going to creek the stand? Don't pluck the string, burn a hair in the side of her, pick a spot! They're going to hear my feet! The thought entered his mind that he had the longbow and not the compound. And all of the variables were stacking up around him....Move slow...it looks like a good shot now...He drew the bow burning his eyes on a mark. I got her now...Hold it, don't pluck it...He released......thump!..the 4 fletched cedar shafthit thelast rib angling into the lungs on the other side. The big doe ran about 10 yards and turned back and looked him right in the eye. He could see the arrow hanging out of her side...suddenly ..she bolted off into the distance...The sound of the cedar arrow smacking the trees rang out through the woods. His excitement was unexplainable! Only a true hunter can understand this feeling....When you read about this adventure, you know you're a hunter when you feel the chill run down your spine. If you have this feeling, I guess you can say you're bit. On this night in December, the snake was bit. And you can bet that this young man will never forget "The Night He Went Stick"
December of 1994, 20 years old. First kill with a longbow.
THE NIGHT HE WENT STICK
He was a young bowhunter, one with instincts only other hunters could witness. He had been taught by family. His uncles & father had the knowledge to live off the land if they had too. When he turned 11 his uncles took him by their side on all their hunts demonstrating to him about the correct hunting technique and ethic.
The December winds howled across the desolate wheat fields and the 1994 dear season was coming to an end. As the sun peaked over the leafless trees his six point buck hung near the coupe. It was the Michigan muzzleloader season and killing with sticks and strings at the age of 12 was less common as technology made its way upon him. At the age of 20 he had already bagged 18 whitetails and a few other big game animals. Nearby,His uncles rag chewedin the cabin about flint heads and wood curing for indian bows. The young man sat outside the cabin listening as he flung blunts from his long bow into the plowed dirt field. With his frozen finger tips he still kept firing until he had the satisfaction. The camp members badgered the young fella all the time about using his wheeled weapon. The following day the young man made his quest. In arrogance, he felt it was time to show his leaders what true instinct he held within.From afar he lookedlike an indian in search for food, but he was moreless a young man in search for respect.
At 2:30 he threw on his snow camo and down filled underwear. The sound of his boot laces squeaked as his sweaty finger tips tied the knots. The man was ready, confident, and eager to kill. Tip towing through the white forest he stopped several feet from the stand to check his wind. With the wind in his face he was confident in a silent entry. The cold wind made his nose run drastically only to let it run down his face; knowing the sound of a little sniffle could terminate his chance for sucess. Climbing the tree like a cat he noticed the platform of his stand was like an ice arena. His heart was pounding in temptation as he lifted his camo leg up to the stand. Creeek! it echoed throughout the woods. He knew that any movement on the platformcould kill his chance for success. He molded himself to the tree to conceal his presence. The only thing he had to hold was a stick with a thin piece of cedar and a head named "Zwickey". As he observed his surroundings he went over and over on how he would be able to close the deal considering how loud his platform was....Why didn't he just kick of the snow and ice when he got to the tree? His instincts told him no..he needed to stay silent..The young man sat quietly making his plan on how he could fire the stick sitting down. Moving his eyes back and forth he began picking out opening in the woods on where he could & could not shoot. All his ideas and planning had built a barrier for success when the moment would finally arrive. His joints ached and his finger tips started to freeze. The sweaty walk in caused him to start freezing almost instintly after climbing the stand.
After sitting for several minutes he spotted deer off to his left moving toward the stand in a single file. Soon the deer were at the base of his stand feeding. Seven deer herded around him like flies as he remained motionless. Three of the deerwere big females and they were directly below him...The hunter shook with nervousness as fourteen eyes stood on guard of their territory. Think! Think! Where can I take my shot! Nowwhere Yet! One of the big doe(s) walks out 12 yards angling away. Ok....there's a shot. But wait....I can't move...or the other six deer will spook...am I going to creek the stand? Don't pluck the string, burn a hair in the side of her, pick a spot! They're going to hear my feet! The thought entered his mind that he had the longbow and not the compound. And all of the variables were stacking up around him....Move slow...it looks like a good shot now...He drew the bow burning his eyes on a mark. I got her now...Hold it, don't pluck it...He released......thump!..the 4 fletched cedar shafthit thelast rib angling into the lungs on the other side. The big doe ran about 10 yards and turned back and looked him right in the eye. He could see the arrow hanging out of her side...suddenly ..she bolted off into the distance...The sound of the cedar arrow smacking the trees rang out through the woods. His excitement was unexplainable! Only a true hunter can understand this feeling....When you read about this adventure, you know you're a hunter when you feel the chill run down your spine. If you have this feeling, I guess you can say you're bit. On this night in December, the snake was bit. And you can bet that this young man will never forget "The Night He Went Stick"
December of 1994, 20 years old. First kill with a longbow.
06-12-2008 | 08:05 PM
#2
Giant Nontypical
Joined: Feb 2003
Posts: 9,679
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From: Wisconsin/Michigan
RE: A story about "The Night He Went Stick" by MW74
Pretty cool read!!!!!!!! Thanks for sharing! I'm looking to change my life with my 1st Longbow kill this season! Congrats to you bro, well done!
06-12-2008 | 08:39 PM
#4
Giant Nontypical
Joined: Sep 2007
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From: Central Minnesota
RE: A story about "The Night He Went Stick" by MW74
All I can say is awesome read!! So many bow hunters will never feel what you did that night on your 1st Traditional kill. My 1st compound kill at 13 years old was my first deer and it was very special and it will always be the best 30 seconds of my life in the bow hunting world. Ever since then no compound kill I ever got compared to my very 1st recurve kill at 20 years old. Its a feeling that you've got to expierence for yourself instead of being told about it. Thats gospel too!!
06-12-2008 | 09:25 PM
#5
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Nontypical Buck
Joined: Dec 2007
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RE: A story about "The Night He Went Stick" by MW74
Look out folks!! Shultzy has the bear rug out!!...
Not to give a wrong impression fellow hunting friends...compounds rush in my blood too....And I hunt with them 80 % of the time....but if you thought trad....try trad....embrace the passion and experience ALL....of what you have been offered...and thats a chance to exerience hunting....in many different ways.....
Just do me one favor...remember...a hole in the vitals is a dead animal.....focus on puting the shaft in the spot...and not what broadhead you have.....they all work....all of them....alllllll of them.....hit your mark...and blood flows out no matter what size of the head....
Not to give a wrong impression fellow hunting friends...compounds rush in my blood too....And I hunt with them 80 % of the time....but if you thought trad....try trad....embrace the passion and experience ALL....of what you have been offered...and thats a chance to exerience hunting....in many different ways.....
Just do me one favor...remember...a hole in the vitals is a dead animal.....focus on puting the shaft in the spot...and not what broadhead you have.....they all work....all of them....alllllll of them.....hit your mark...and blood flows out no matter what size of the head....
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