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"Finally"...
By: Andrew
Colyer - 18July2002
July, 2002 - Winner - "Story of the Month"
After missing 5 deer
in my first year of hunting, I was unsure if this sport was
this sport was really right for me. So as the 2000 bow opener came
upon me the thoughts running through my head were anything but positive.
I had spent a little more time practicing with my bow this year but
I still wasn't feeling very confident.
Almost reluctantly I went with my dad
up north for the bow opener. Saturday I got up early with my dad and
we got ready, when we had dressed and de-scented ourselves outside
our cabin, we took our separate ways out to our shacks. My shack was
the farthest back in the property so it took me about 15 minutes to
walk out to it. I sat in my shack without making a noise without seeing
a thing, and 5 and a half ours later I was packing up to head back
to the cabin.
Extremely disgusted I walked back to
the cabin for lunch. Of course my dad, with more patience than anyone
I knew was not back yet. When he finally did get back we shared our
miserable stories, had lunch and headed back out at 3 o'clock.
We had as much luck that night as we
had that morning, not one thing was seen or heard. Just that July
when we were up there we had seen a group of about 15 deer, and determined
that our property was home to a group of nocturnal whitetail. We went
to bed early that night hoping to get up well before sunrise the next
day and catch the first light breaking through.
Sunday we got up at 5:00 and the stars
were still out, we got ready and headed back out to the shacks. With
a growing eagerness inside of me, I hurried to get to my shack. I
was in well before sunrise and dozed off for a little bit. When I
awoke the sun was just starting to show and I could now see my sights
on my bow. I sat observing my now visible surroundings with a new
found quietness and interest. I sat for about an hour viewing as far
as I could until I heard a stick break in a near unseen distance.
Not knowing where it came from I started looking off to my right,
I seen nothing and slowly moved to the left. I was looking in the
distance when something up close caught me off guard. My eyes shot
instantly to the doe now working its way anxiously without a care
in the world to my bait pile. I wasted no time standing up and drawing
back on the now broadside doe. I released the arrow and the doe took
off. SHOOT! I missed again. I thought I could see my arrow fletchings
sticking in the ground on my bait pile.
With this mirror image of the 5 deer
missed in the 99' season my heart sank. I radioed my dad to tell him
I took a shot at one but I thought I could see my arrow and I think
I missed. He told me that he would be over in a minute to check it
out, and said I should go down and pick up my arrow. Once again disgusted
I walked over to where my arrow was. When I got there though is when
my heart started to work again, my arrow was sticking straight up
in the ground, but it was covered in blood.
Excitedly I radioed my dad again and
told him that my arrow was covered in blood, he said that he was almost
there and to stay where I am. I was anxious to go out and look for
a blood trail but I decided to listen to my dad and stay put. Finally
he showed up and we started to look for a trail, it took about 3 seconds
before we found blood and it was a good amount. On the next blood
we found my dad picked up the leaf studied it, and asked if there
were bubbles in that blood. I had never heard of that before, but
when I looked at it, there was bubbles in it. Alright my dad said,
that means its a lung shot. I was still pretty inexperienced in exact
shot placement, but I know that the lungs is a good place to shoot
for. My dad told me that this deer shouldn't go far.
We tracked it in the thick brush for
about 30 yards and found it laying lifelessly on the side of a small
hill. I ran up to it, poked it and then was congratulated by my dad
when it didn't move. My dad laid it on its side and admired the hole
behind the deer's right shoulder, "what a great shot" he
said. My little doe tipped the scales at about 60 pounds on foot,
but I was still really proud of my first deer. I am also thankful
for practicing with my bow that year, and making an excellent shot
on a small target. |
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