Luck or Skill......

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horsey300

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So we'll preface this with a layout of my background. I grew up on the plains with a mentality of, "if I can see it, I should be able to shoot it" mentality. I put in the trigger time. I studied ballistic tables, I dropped deer at shameful ranges with a .30-30, I tried coyotes with a .410, I ran the legs off my .300 wm. I never got an enormous ego, but I have always been proud of my outdoors skills, camping, hiking, riding, off-roading, handling livestock, you name it, I (like many of you) thrive where people don't exist in large numbers. There's something that has been bugging me slightly in the back of my head, but never really presented itself as an issue worth addressing in my mind until today. All of the long range varmints that have fallen, all of the many deer, several pronghorn, and all of the small game I've ever taken and today I realized as I had my 10 year old boy and 12 year old girl out to fill youth tags, I have a kryptonite!
The situation occurred today, during Nebraska's November rifle season. For the first year in a long time, I bought a tag. I did so for two reasons, 1. There is a bit of a whitetail incursion threatening what I deem to be (has been and will continue to be in my mind) my home mule deer country (I never saw a whitetail in person until I was in my 20's) 2. My oldest two kids wanted to go deer hunting and they require a legally licensed adult to be with them. I have been out the last couple of weeks helping friends sight in rifles for pronghorn, helping to get those tags filled, working up/testing loads for the 10 year old's rifle, testing my buddy's .243, making sure my kids can still shoot up to par (they can, the younger stops at 300 right now, the oldest is good to 400). Yesterday, on the season opener, many miles were hiked, thousands of acres were glassed, freezing rain was endured, and ultimately we learned better stealth tactics for little gain. Today, with coffee for all, we greeted the sunrise with guns loaded, a determined plan, and a bit of vengeance from the weary day before. We all knew that next weekend, I head to work for more training; I leave Sunday and come back the day before Thanksgiving. Any unfilled tag meant either taking pto Saturday or waiting till January.
We began the morning stoking the fire in Grandma's stove, heating coffee, dressing in a hurry (I had somehow turned off my alarm yesterday-honest mistake), and the joking threat of a hike to a town 40 miles away. We made a quick stop to check for the place where the devilish whitetail had been seen watering frequently but with no fresh tracks on the frost, we abandoned the plan quickly as we had witnessed them escaping the neighbors to the south far far beyond our reach the morning before (should be back in 2 or 3 weeks). I looked to my plucky youngsters and said, "let's try for those muleys up north we saw yesterday" they agreed, and by 7 a.m. we had found our quarry........ We did NOT see the herd from the day before, and while I knew they were near, we were had all agreed we were not in the mood to be picky. What we had found was a lone doe, making her way across the stubble of my family's dryland crop field, surrounded on three sides by summer pasture with the neighbor's winter yearlings behind her. Once we got to our "parking spot" we unloaded, answered nature's last call, and began The Stalk. I educated our youngsters against skylining ourselves on the steep hill (the highest point for almost 1000 yds, if we had the equipment a 2,000+ range would not be out of the question just to paint the picture, if you've seen Dances With Wolves, you've seen the terrain we're talking about here) and whilst the high ground has its appeal it's best not to give up your position so easily and we began skirting around the hill 15 yds from the peak (a real "knob hill" type). Before we had made it more than 1/3 of the way around the hill, we saw her, easily 300 yards west of her last sighting! To paint the picture 250 yards west and 30 yards north of her is a stackyard and shelterbelt of trees as well as an old homestead-type yard, 450 yards west of that is a stock tank, and just past that and 30 yards south is another shelterbelt of cedars that wraps clear to the north border of the field (a large L shape). We know she's quite a ways out, confirmed with a lased range of 500 yds. We know she's angling for the stock tank/corrals/stackyard area, we know that there is no good plan to be had with the wind in her favor and no cover if we try to gain the wind advantage. I know that she is NOT one of the herd we had harrassed slightly the day before. I also know that if she makes the stackyard and decides to bolt for safety 300 yds to the north she's gone and we'll be gambling on the other deer. A quick judgement call says that we risk the wind and try to gain the advantage of cover. We hastily retreat down the hill to where we can stand and make our way to the cedar shelterbelt, glancing to check her position along the way several times and upon confirmation of her continued course, pick up the pace. We make the cedars and immediately I scrub myself and my two eager hunters with the branches. With several admonitions of stealth and foot placement (funny how they can sneak into a kitchen but not across an open field right?) we make our way north using the east running trees in the distance to shield our movements. Finally we reach the end of the trees and we give up cover for visibility, we're not sure where she is, only the direction in which she MUST be. Slowly we hug the tree line, scanning and searching the stackyard for flashes of white or movement. In the instant that I saw her (ten yards closer than the corrals, 150 yards closer than the stackyard), I simultaneously drop and whisper "Down! There she is!" My sharp students drop instinctively! They could not see her but knew she must be close!
The next several moments lasted for days! With only a power pole, a bull's blowout, and some measly cow trails in between, we were essentially stuck in the open. Our doe stood grazing and watching almost carelessly not 200 yards away! Slowly we crawled to a clump of dirt, my oldest setting her bipod up and beginning the attempt to end this weary weekend. This entire time I'd been carrying my boy's shooting sandbag, and finally, I handed it off to him, which he managed skillfully somehow. We had agreed that his big sister should take the first shot but that did NOT mean he should be unprepared and his lil single shot .223 was ready! In what seemed like hours, I relayed the position of the doe to my girl, position from the brace post, windbreak, yardage (173 at this point), and somewhat frustratingly, she was unable to locate the deer. Finally, I suggested she raise her head up a few inches to see what I was looking at before getting back into her scope. Upon rising, she immediately saw she was too far left and adjusted. As I watched through my rangefinder, I asked if she could still see the doe; yes, yes she could......"can you line up on her shoulder........no....no....no.....ok....what can you see?" "I can't see her shoulder" pretty sure I got that......"okay, darlin', but what CAN you see??" "the top of her head, everything else is in the grass!" Hmmmmmm, ok......."Scoot up (3 yards) to that tall clump, I'll bring your rifle". From this position, the scope had a line on the head and top of the back but we were as good as we could get without spooking the deer. Now at this point some of you may be saying that that is an easy enough shot and with the right circumstances, I may or may not disagree, but my children have been watching youtube videos, hunting shows, studying vitals targets, and listening to many tales of shot placement and one of my proudest moments was hearing that she just didn't like the shot! In agreement, I slip out one of my coyote calls and begin touching off slight notes of a fawn in distress. Sure enough, it piqued her interest! Little by little, she made her way towards us, with every pause followed by my asking if we had a shot and if so, take it, followed by a repeated, "not yet." Finally after dropping almost out of sight in a low spot before the fenceline between us (still on my family's land) she approached the fence, coming uphill, I whispered, "When she reaches the fence, take her." At 140 yards, the doe paused at the fence and I asked if we had a shot, after a brief pause, I was answered by the CRACK of the rifle as I watched the clueless doe almost fall over backwards from the impact of the bullet! I knew this doe was older and not heavy but watching her struggle to get away from what apparently was the full might of mjollinir confirmed that yes, this was her time and our hunt was over. I swear I tackled my 12 year old pain in the rear with my hug as soon as she set the butt of her rifle down (having chambered a fresh round and tracked the beast to its fall) we were both split from ear to ear, my eyes got a bit watery, my voice cracked as I bestowed my proud congratulations upon her warning both children that though I was probably about to cry it was also a long walk home if they even thought of laughter. In our hug I was struck back to my first deer with my dad and grandpa (who's no longer with us) and whilst I don't remember much about that deer itself, I remember the hunt of THAT doe as vividly as the one that fell 20 years later, and instantly I hope that my wonderful young hunter remembers her first deer as favorably.
We waited about 20 minutes before approaching with rumbling tummies and the mention of a potential breakfast from the 10 year old (lol). We crossed the fence with care of muzzle control and then came the question........(even though I knew within 5 yards where the doe landed upon the end of her death run) "Do you know where she is?" "Ummmmmmm....." "Well, remember I'm color blind, so YOU better find the blood!" "Oh, yeah huh!" (truly, my colors don't match up with what's really out there). Now of course, the doe didn't even make a full 20 yds, and we didn't find any blood before sighting her, but it DOES beg the question, have I hunted over 20 years and only EVER NEEDED to blood track in the snow due to luck or skill?
In closing, (surely determined to pile on the pride on this day) that lil girl piled right into the field dressing, butchering, and eating of that deer with little knowledge and plenty of try! I guessed the doe to be 5 years old, having witnessed her over several years with frostbitten ears, she was easy to remember, somehow she had acquired an injury to her hind leg that left swollen scarring. Game and Parks' final verdict was 6 years, which in and of itself was an accomplishment in these parts! My lil girl promised she tasted great as she cut into one of grandma's battered/fried loin steaks. I assure you this was a dry doe who somehow must have known that today, she had one last child to educate, and I do thank her for her last lesson, and promise that she'll not be forgotten.

Before anyone asks, pictures will be coming later.
 
Awesome work dad! Now you need to get your 10 year old one!
Thank you! Even though we had fully discussed the entire process, upon witnessing the field dressing of this one, he opted not to fill his tag (the other herd came in before we left) but there's still January!!
 
No matter how good of a hunter you are there will always be some kind of luck involved just to spot game and have it be in range. A lot of luck involved in stalking. Experience can tweak the circumstances but blind luck still prevails.

It would seem you are an excellent and skillful hunter so you don’t always have to rely or even fall back on pure luck.
 
Congrats to your daughter for her first!! Tell her to get a journal and write down every detail she can remember and tell her when she is old and grey she can read it to her grand children. Thanks Dad for teaching these young kids good gun safety and hunting techniques. Memories made by all who were involved. Btw they grow up way too quick.
 
Congrats to your daughter for her first!! Tell her to get a journal and write down every detail she can remember and tell her when she is old and grey she can read it to her grand children. Thanks Dad for teaching these young kids good gun safety and hunting techniques. Memories made by all who were involved. Btw they grow up way too quick.
Yes, they do indeed! And of course, like I once did, it feels like they think they don't grow fast enough!
 
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