jekilpat
Senior Member
This wasn’t the biggest buck in the area, but definitely the oldest and largest bodied that I had pictures of. He was the boss of this unique little area which consisted of a narrow hardwood drain set between two large, young pine thickets, with the river to my back. With the thickets corned up by the natural hardwood growth left as a buffer along the river, it gives the bucks four separate edges to work while crossing the drain constantly throughout the day to check scrapes and cruise for does. With the right wind, I was virtually undetectable and had settled in for an all-day sit. I had seen only young bucks and does throughout the day, but that all changed just before dark.
A little before dark the big 9 came trotting from my left, taking a trail that would lead him right across the front of my tree. Unfortunately a young 8 came out of the thicket above me wanting to join the party. This prevented me from drawing on him as he passed broadside across the front of me less than 10 yards away. The young 8 circled out in front and approached straight down the ditch pointed at me, apparently wanting to fall in behind the big 9. Now I’m really pinned down. The big 9 is walking slowly away at a perfect quartering away angle – it was now or never. Luckily, the young 8, now inside 20 yards, would have to come through one little patch of cane to get on this trail. Betting that he would close his eyes as he pushed through the cane, I began my draw as soon as he dropped his head. Staring at him while drawing, he did just that and never spooked. As soon as I came to full draw, I turned my head, found my anchor and dropped the string on the big 9 at a perfect quartering away angle – or so I thought.
I watched the yellow feathers disappear mid body but saw no donkey kick as he ran up the hill and into the thicket. No crash and just silence after a short run. I knew this meant he either bedded or began walking. Neither of which is a good sign, so I sat for another 45 minutes before getting down. I quietly checked my arrow to find a mix of blood and bile. It was forecast to be in the upper 30’s that night, so I just slipped out to the boat and went home.
I returned the next morning to find a non-existent blood trail and no deer. Thankfully, I have the amazing Daisy to take up my slack. And amazing she was. She tracked this deer for several hundred yards through the thickest, nastiest, briar laden mess you can imagine – all with only a 20 yard stretch of actual blood which was between two beds. Otherwise, the entire trail was invisible to me. When she found him, outweighed by over 200 pounds, she jumped on top of him and started tearing at the wound. It looked as if she thought she killed him. Hilarious.
I’m not sure what went wrong with the shot. Maybe he moved right before the shot. Maybe I picked a bad spot. Not sure. But what I am sure of is the importance of a BIG, SHARP broadhead, and a good tracking dog when things go wrong!
49# Predator Recurve, Simmons Tiger Shark BH, & miniature Dachshund
A little before dark the big 9 came trotting from my left, taking a trail that would lead him right across the front of my tree. Unfortunately a young 8 came out of the thicket above me wanting to join the party. This prevented me from drawing on him as he passed broadside across the front of me less than 10 yards away. The young 8 circled out in front and approached straight down the ditch pointed at me, apparently wanting to fall in behind the big 9. Now I’m really pinned down. The big 9 is walking slowly away at a perfect quartering away angle – it was now or never. Luckily, the young 8, now inside 20 yards, would have to come through one little patch of cane to get on this trail. Betting that he would close his eyes as he pushed through the cane, I began my draw as soon as he dropped his head. Staring at him while drawing, he did just that and never spooked. As soon as I came to full draw, I turned my head, found my anchor and dropped the string on the big 9 at a perfect quartering away angle – or so I thought.
I watched the yellow feathers disappear mid body but saw no donkey kick as he ran up the hill and into the thicket. No crash and just silence after a short run. I knew this meant he either bedded or began walking. Neither of which is a good sign, so I sat for another 45 minutes before getting down. I quietly checked my arrow to find a mix of blood and bile. It was forecast to be in the upper 30’s that night, so I just slipped out to the boat and went home.
I returned the next morning to find a non-existent blood trail and no deer. Thankfully, I have the amazing Daisy to take up my slack. And amazing she was. She tracked this deer for several hundred yards through the thickest, nastiest, briar laden mess you can imagine – all with only a 20 yard stretch of actual blood which was between two beds. Otherwise, the entire trail was invisible to me. When she found him, outweighed by over 200 pounds, she jumped on top of him and started tearing at the wound. It looked as if she thought she killed him. Hilarious.
I’m not sure what went wrong with the shot. Maybe he moved right before the shot. Maybe I picked a bad spot. Not sure. But what I am sure of is the importance of a BIG, SHARP broadhead, and a good tracking dog when things go wrong!
49# Predator Recurve, Simmons Tiger Shark BH, & miniature Dachshund
