Another Misadventure in the Deer Woods
This classic is from the 2009 season
I had managed to resist temptation and not hunt a particularly “bucky” looking funnel until mid-October. Past experience had shown that a flurry of chasing sometimes occurs at this time of year, a “pre-pre-rut,” if you will.
The activity that afternoon started early. A good two hours before sundown a couple of does were making a hasty descent from the ridge top, and while not following the trail I had placed my bets on, they would both pass within short range of my tree. Very short range; a mere five steps away.
The short range played into a lapse of concentration, and I managed to pull off an epic show of ineptitude and shoot the larger doe squarely in the gut. Disgusted, shamed and stunned by this turn of events, I slumped back into the stand and planned my exit strategy. I would return in the morning after giving the doe ample time to expire. I found her fairly quickly the following morning, but that’s not what this story is about. My actions, or lack thereof, between that pitiful shot and the recovery, hours later, are what make this a heart breaker.
As I sat pouting, with no arrow on the string (an important detail as you’ll soon learn), the brisk crunching gait of another deer had me sitting bolt upright in anticipation. I quickly stood up and readied for the shot as a gorgeous high racked buck stepped into view at about twelve yards. As I started to draw my bow, I had the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Something was missing. But what?
Oh yeah, no arrow on the string. And while yelling “gotcha “may have qualified as counting a minor coup, coup don’t eat all that well and it ain’t much to show off to your buddies. I let the string down, and as quickly as he came into my life, he was gone.