Just when it seemed like the buck was going to give me a shot, he turned and stepped back into the green thicket. I was in momentary disbelief. I didn't know what made the animal change its mind, but when I stood up, I could see the tips of its antlers slowly ambling their way down the other side of the thicket. With the wind still blowing, I turned and hustled to the other end, scooping up my quiver along the way. Clearly, the animal was on its way back out into the corn. I slowed when I saw a small opening in the thicket 30 yards away. Craning my neck, I could see the antlers approaching the opening, so I drew my bow.
I've shot a few deer with a bow while still hunting. It's rarely been a matter of superb stealth or ghost-like stalking maneuvers. Instead, when I'm successful I usually have a good wind in my favor and some sort of natural terrain feature, be it a thicket, ditch, or just a small rise to mask my approach, and I'd venture a guess that most still hunters will say the same thing. When things come together, it's almost comical how easy it can be, and how oblivious the animals can be to you. Whitetails have a justified reputation for being wary critters, but working your way to within bow range of one on the ground is far from impossible.
The buck walked right into my sight picture, so I made a little grunt/bleat type sound with my voice and settled my pin just behind the shoulder. I know I always mess up on at least some of the mechanics when shooting at deer, but I remember telling myself to pick a spot and hold on it before releasing. The arrow sounded good, and the buck was stumbling as he ran out of sight.
I debated on getting Michelle to help me track, since I didn't want to mess up her hunt, but with the temperature still hovering in the high 80s, I knew we needed to recover the buck pretty quickly. When I met her, she told the tale of trying to draw on a wary doe feeding 15 yards in front of her for several minutes before a couple dove hunters (who didn't know Michelle was hunting in the area and apologized profusely to her), hoping to shoot a few birds over the picked corn, frightened the animal away as they walked onto the field.
Michelle found the first puddle of blood, and it was obvious I'd made a good hit. The buck had turned toward the corn field, and as soon as we stepped from the trees, I could see him piled up 40 yards away. My shot had been perfect. I took a minute to fill out my tag before field-dressing the animal, recovering my arrow and beginning the dragging process. Even in heat like that, dragging is a chore I've never minded too much.
-Will
Published by The Whitetail Team on Wednesday, September 17, 2008 at 10:27 AM.
