It was the pity parties of pity parties. I’m not one to whine or complain. I have no patience for it from anyone else and I sure as hell don’t like it coming from myself. That’s the situation I found myself in though on Saturday evening after a rough hunt with my Bear Grizzly recurve.
The gist of it is I was still trying to hunt using a compound approach while using a traditional bow. I went to the Gas Well Plot knowing full well I’d see deer. The big question was would they wander into the third of the field that was within 20 yards of my ladder stand? I was also a little concerned about the wind as it was from the west and typically I only hunt this spot in the evenings if there’s an east wind. To make a long story shorter, let’s just say I got my ass kicked on all accounts. A group of does did show up as expected but it was too many deer all at one time. There were too many eyeballs on me to get my bow drawn and the deer obviously caught wind of me based on their behavior. Some deer stayed, but they were on edge and I had to remain frozen in position or risk blowing on the entire plot.
Eventually the coup de grace was when the oldest and wariest doe in the bunch had enough and led her group out of the plot and up the hill toward Buck Meadow. Then other deer started snorting and that put an exclamation point on a very frustrating evening. I drove home angry the entire way questioning why I was even trying to shoot a deer with a traditional bow. I gave myself every excuse for giving up and by the time I got home I was ready to spill my guts to Angela about why I need to stop traditional archery hunting for the rest of the season. That’s when the tough love part of the story ensued. She even used the words, “tough love,” in case I didn’t recognize it.
Angela’s reasoning was good, and I really didn’t have a logical counter-argument. In summary, she reasoned that I would never get better at hunting with a trad bow if I didn’t stick with it and be willing to live with the mistakes and missed opportunities on the journey. As she put it, I already shot two deer this year with my compound and had shot countless others over my hunting career, I really had nothing to lose by dedicating myself to my new craft. She also reminded me that I wasn’t particularly excited about any bucks running Horseshoe Hills this year, so what was I really missing by not sticking with it?
Later in the evening I had a similar conversation with my longtime hunting buddy, Mike, and together we came to the same conclusion. To put a bow on it, I listened to a timely episode of The Push podcast that just launched detailing a hunter’s three year quest to shoot a deer with his recurve, which he had finally accomplished on a good Missouri buck earlier this season. After all this, I felt almost ashamed to be thinking of hanging up the old Grizzly for the season. Giving up has never been in my DNA and after the pep talks and hearing the podcast, there was no way in hell I was going to reach for my compound the next morning.
I left the house with the Grizzly and I felt good about the decision. I also had a good feeling about the morning hunt considering it was early November, bucks were showing up regularly on my cameras, and it was a cold and partly cloudy morning with virtually no wind. This would make my setup nearly bulletproof as far as scent control was concerned. Knowing I needed a close shot for the recurve, I opted to sit in a stand I set on the edge of the orchard in the Homestead area of the property. The apples were long gone, which the main reason I set the stand in the first place, but there was evidence of a lot of deer traffic and it seemed like a great place to intercept a cruising buck. Even better, I didn’t hunt the stand one time last season and had only sat in it once on the second day of the season this year. The spot was completely unpressured.
I snapped a few photos as the sun started to come up. It’s one of the prettier spots to hunt on the property with a view of the ridge that sets the backdrop for the Homestead Plots. It wasn’t long after daylight when I saw a pretty nice buck making his way toward the pear tree behind me. I decided quickly that if he happened to come my way I would take the shot as just getting a deer with my recurve trumped waiting for a fully mature buck. Almost as if scripted, the deer turned and headed right for me on the trail that leads directly beneath my stand. This was it! It was finally going to happen because this buck was about to walk right under me and it was going to be a chip shot.
The unaware eight pointer stopped to work a rub and then made his way into the open, perfectly quartering away from my stand. I drew the bow, took aim, and released the arrow. I watched in horror as it struck the ground just short of the buck’s chest cavity. The deer took a leap into cover and stood there for several minutes trying to figure out what happened. I couldn’t believe it. It can’t get any easier than that and I blew it. Here’s where I’ll give myself a little credit though. As easily as I could have, I wouldn’t let myself give in to my doubts and start feeling sorry for myself. Instead, I nocked another arrow and began thinking about learning from my mistake so I could correct it on the next opportunity. This was my second miss this year and both times my arrow hit short from my elevated position. I knew I just needed to aim a little higher and I was hopeful I might still get that opportunity as it was still early in the hunt.
Just a few minutes after the buck I missed went out of sight, I could hear the obvious sound of another buck thrashing a tree just out of sight to my left. It wasn’t long before the deer stepped onto the walking path revealing that not only was it a buck, but a darned nice one at that. As soon as he came into view he started walking the path at a fast pace and within seconds he was going to be right in front of me. Just as I was thinking about stopping him for a shot, he stopped himself and began making a scrape below the small pine that stood between us. I couldn’t believe my luck. I knew when he was finished he’d continue down the path and put himself quartering away and offering a great shot opportunity.
As if reading a script, that ‘s exactly what the deer did. As he cleared the pine I took steady aim and remember reminding myself to aim higher. I reached my anchor point and allowed my instinctive shooting style to take over. My adrenaline was pumping as I watched the arrow bury into the buck’s rib cage, sending him bounding away with blood visible around the wound almost instantly. I was concerned that I didn’t get a pass through, but felt confident the shot would do the job. As excited as I was, I kept my emotions in check and wouldn’t allow myself to celebrate until I actually located the deer. It’s a bittersweet feeling archery hunters know well.
There was no hurry to pick up the trail. I let Angela and Mike know that I hit a buck and that I was going to slow play the tracking job. When I don’t see a deer I shot fall over, I like to give it plenty of time to expire before I begin tracking. To kill some time I drove to Martin’s for some food and took my time getting back. After three total hours of waiting, I picked up the track where I saw the deer enter the woods. I was pleased to see a good amount of blood on the ground just a few yards from the shot, and there was a visible blood trail ahead. I followed it slowly and with caution never having to stop for more than a few seconds to find next blood.
Even though it was a pretty easy trail to follow, I got a little nervous the further it went along. I got to the ditch near the property line and hoped the buck had fallen into it, but it wasn’t to be. I stopped for a moment and noticed a good rub ahead of me and thought it looked like a logical direction for the wounded deer to go. That’s when I could see a strip of white on the ground that looked like it might have been the belly of a deer. I pulled up my binoculars and they revealed the expired buck laying peacefully on the autumn leaves on the forest floor. What a relief!
I approached the deer and knelt softly beside him admiring the beautiful animal. I quickly recognized him as a nice 10 point that I had plenty of pictures of but hadn’t seen recently. He did break off his G2 on the right side of his rack, but in my view that gave his symmetrical rack some character. I sat quietly with the deer for a bit and allowed myself a few moments to soak in my accomplishment. After many months of research, trial and error, ups and downs, and a lot of practice, I accomplished my goal of tagging a deer with a traditional bow this season. The deer being a 10 point buck was just a bonus.
I trust I’ll still struggle at times with whether or not to hunt with a traditional bow or a compound, but my heart is really pushing me toward traditional archery hunting. Just because I accomplished my goal doesn’t change what Angela and Mike told me. I have nothing to prove as a deer hunter, so why not focus on loving the journey and not so much on the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I know one thing, I’ll never forget this day and how I felt when I first put my hands on the buck I was able to take down with a recurve. Who knew at 51 you can still have new highs in a sport you’ve been enjoying for nearly 40 years? I can hardly wait for what comes next.