One day while bow hunting I snuck into my favorite area with my climber on my back and my bow in my hands. I always stalk with an arrow nocked and my release hooked up, that way all I have to do is draw and fire if the opportunity presents itself.
That particular day I was hunting the edge of a virtually impenetrable scrub brush area next to the lake. There was an old ATV road that ran along the length of the scrub area. Directly across the ATV trail in this particular spot, it opened up into a section of hardwoods that was maybe 100 yards around, before transitioning back into lake-side swampy scrub brush.
I planned to set up in a tree among these hardwoods and hopefully catch something moving through.
I got all the way there with no sightings and not getting busted. I took my stand off my back and rested it against the front of my body as I looked around for a suitable tree. The ATV trail was 40 yards to my right, and ran straight away from me, and then back toward the way I came in.
Before I could pick a tree I heard a noise ahead of me. I looked up and was completely startled by the sight. A buck was moving right down that ATV trail in broad daylight. He was 60 yards away when I saw him. He left the ATV trail and veered into the patch of woods in which I stood. I was ready, the bow was primed, I was hooked up, all I needed was a broadside look and I'd have a shot within seconds of arriving here.
On he came. He was weaving in and out of sight behind trees but he kept coming toward me. Now my heart really started racing. He was coming right at me, as if he were determined to walk right through the very spot on which I stood. Closer he came.
Now I was kicking myself for not at least leaning up against a tree when I stopped to make my decision. I was standing in the wide open. I was the ONLY thing in this open spot of woods for maybe 10 yards in every direction. I slumped down a little, and tilted my head lower to try to hide my face under the brim of my hat and perhaps break up my human outline a bit. I must have looked like a slumping scarecrow when he finally saw me.
At a distance of 7 yards he stopped hard. He hit the brakes and stared at me as if we were the only two things that existed. It was at this point I saw how big his rack was. It was crazy wide. All I could think of was to compare them to goal posts. I was astonished that I was standing on the ground, face to face with an animal of this caliber. I stayed slumped, holding my bow, and he remained rock solid and staring at me. At some point I began to drool, I didn't want to risk him hearing me swallow, or seeing my throat move when I did so. Time had stopped in a very uncomfortable place for me.
I don't know how much time passed, but eventually he knew he had to make a move. He very slowly began a turn to his right. One leg at a time with a pause in between to make sure I didn't try to make a move. Then he slowly walked behind a huge sweet gum tree. That was exactly the break I needed. I stood erect, drew my bow, and waited for him to come out the other side.
I was shaking so hard that I shook the arrow clean off its rest.
It took a second or two to correct that but I got it done. Then I waited at full draw for the most glorious moment of my hunting life to wash over these woods. And I waited. And my arms began to shake. "Where is he?"
More shaking. Now I had to decide if I wanted to let down and risk missing the shot, or try to hold and be so shakey that I can't take it when he pops back into view?
I had to let down. I must have waited 10 minutes for him to reappear, but he never did. I never saw or heard him again after he went behind that big sweet gum tree. It was like he just disappeared from the face of the earth just 10 yards away from me.
Now when I take a break on a stalk, I am ALWAYS up against a piece of cover I can hide behind if the need arises. The lesson he taught me was so painful I can remember it vividly to this day, but that lesson has also paid a lot of dividends over the years since I learned it. That buck made me a better predator, and many other deer have paid for that with a trip to the freezer.
How about y'all? Let's hear your story of "the one that got away."
That particular day I was hunting the edge of a virtually impenetrable scrub brush area next to the lake. There was an old ATV road that ran along the length of the scrub area. Directly across the ATV trail in this particular spot, it opened up into a section of hardwoods that was maybe 100 yards around, before transitioning back into lake-side swampy scrub brush.
I planned to set up in a tree among these hardwoods and hopefully catch something moving through.
I got all the way there with no sightings and not getting busted. I took my stand off my back and rested it against the front of my body as I looked around for a suitable tree. The ATV trail was 40 yards to my right, and ran straight away from me, and then back toward the way I came in.
Before I could pick a tree I heard a noise ahead of me. I looked up and was completely startled by the sight. A buck was moving right down that ATV trail in broad daylight. He was 60 yards away when I saw him. He left the ATV trail and veered into the patch of woods in which I stood. I was ready, the bow was primed, I was hooked up, all I needed was a broadside look and I'd have a shot within seconds of arriving here.
On he came. He was weaving in and out of sight behind trees but he kept coming toward me. Now my heart really started racing. He was coming right at me, as if he were determined to walk right through the very spot on which I stood. Closer he came.
Now I was kicking myself for not at least leaning up against a tree when I stopped to make my decision. I was standing in the wide open. I was the ONLY thing in this open spot of woods for maybe 10 yards in every direction. I slumped down a little, and tilted my head lower to try to hide my face under the brim of my hat and perhaps break up my human outline a bit. I must have looked like a slumping scarecrow when he finally saw me.
At a distance of 7 yards he stopped hard. He hit the brakes and stared at me as if we were the only two things that existed. It was at this point I saw how big his rack was. It was crazy wide. All I could think of was to compare them to goal posts. I was astonished that I was standing on the ground, face to face with an animal of this caliber. I stayed slumped, holding my bow, and he remained rock solid and staring at me. At some point I began to drool, I didn't want to risk him hearing me swallow, or seeing my throat move when I did so. Time had stopped in a very uncomfortable place for me.
I don't know how much time passed, but eventually he knew he had to make a move. He very slowly began a turn to his right. One leg at a time with a pause in between to make sure I didn't try to make a move. Then he slowly walked behind a huge sweet gum tree. That was exactly the break I needed. I stood erect, drew my bow, and waited for him to come out the other side.
I was shaking so hard that I shook the arrow clean off its rest.
It took a second or two to correct that but I got it done. Then I waited at full draw for the most glorious moment of my hunting life to wash over these woods. And I waited. And my arms began to shake. "Where is he?" More shaking. Now I had to decide if I wanted to let down and risk missing the shot, or try to hold and be so shakey that I can't take it when he pops back into view?
I had to let down. I must have waited 10 minutes for him to reappear, but he never did. I never saw or heard him again after he went behind that big sweet gum tree. It was like he just disappeared from the face of the earth just 10 yards away from me.
Now when I take a break on a stalk, I am ALWAYS up against a piece of cover I can hide behind if the need arises. The lesson he taught me was so painful I can remember it vividly to this day, but that lesson has also paid a lot of dividends over the years since I learned it. That buck made me a better predator, and many other deer have paid for that with a trip to the freezer.
How about y'all? Let's hear your story of "the one that got away."
I opened my left eye and raised my head off the stock about an inch...he was still there. I tried again to sight in...., he was gone. OH I could see the sights fine, but try as I may, I could not see that buck through my open, iron sights in that light, even with both eyes open with my head down. The lighting condition had gotten worse and I could see his outline but not a spot to use as my aiming point.
