As deer season winds down I'm left reflecting on one of the hardest, most humbling seasons of my life. With monster bucks filling my newsfeed every day, I was sure that this year would be the year I stuck a giant with my bow. What my optimism hid, however, was that we has less land than ever to hunt, with more people than ever trying to hunt it. People who have disregarded limits and legal buck sizes. Our number one hit list deer was harvested two weeks into the season. I had lost my first bow kill and then botched another bow attempt within two weeks of each other. I went 20 sits without seeing a deer. This was the year that I pushed my dream of a big buck aside and reevaluated my goals.
On October 20th, I took a sick day from work with the hopes of sticking my first deer with a bow. This was my third year carrying my bow with nothing to show for it, so that morning, any deer would do. By 9:30 I hadn't seen a thing, discouraged, I decided to sit past 10 and make a whole day of it. At 10:15 I had 4 does within 18 yards. The front doe, who looked to be a good 130 pounds, stood broadside and dropped her head to feed. I stood, drew, settled and squeezed. When I released, I saw by lighted nock flew like a tracer and disappear behind her shoulder. She mule kicked and dug hard towards the thicket, tail tucked. I couldn't believe it. What I had dreamed about for years, what had I had played through in my mind sit after sit finally just happened. I knew it was a great hit. I slipped down, found my arrow, and saw the blood spatter on the trees. I knew she couldn't have ran 50 yards..
300 yards later in the middle of a clear cut, we lost blood. We tracked all day, which at its peak reached 70 degrees. We knew the deer was no good, but we kept trying. After 7 hours, we cut our losses. After some research, I think I hit a touch too low. The blood was bright and strong, but just stopped. We thought maybe she'd show back up on camera, but two months later she's yet to make an appearance. I guess its like turkey hunting.. when they say "if you haven't missed, you haven't hunted enough." Every bowhunter has made a mistake, lost a deer, or made a bad shot. I guess I can add that to my list now.
By November 15th, I hadn't seen another deer with my bow. I had been carrying by rifle pretty exclusively by this point, because this southern girl bundles up like Ralphie on A Christmas Story. I had seen a handful of does, but with six weeks left of the season, the prideful QDMA mentality had really taken hold of my train of thought. "Nope," Id tell myself ,"No does until the rut is over and I kill an 8 point of bigger. And the doe I do shoot better be 150 pounds or I'm not doing it." November 22nd comes and Brandon's killed two bucks, Bradley's taken four, and here I am with a big goose egg. I had a terrible stomach virus the Friday before, so Brandon and I sat together that morning. Fortunately, a gang of about eight does came out, and I finally got the monkey off of my back. I was just excited about that doe as I was about any buck I'd killed before. I was just as proud of that doe as anything else I'd taken.
So that's when it hit me. I had been so wrapped up in the mentality that if it didn't have big horns it wasn't worth it that I missed the whole point of this great sport. Horns aren't everything, and as much as Id love to kill a giant 10 point, a nice nanny doe will do just fine for me. Sometimes I think we have seasons like this just to make us value the little things and humble us. So far, this is my first season without horns, but I'm okay with that. With nine days left of the season, I'm looking to take another doe for our freezer. If buck walks out, I'll be grateful, but if I'm fortunate to take a doe, I'll be proud of her, too. Hunting isn't all big horns and big beards. Its time for some of us to reevaluate our goals and get back to the heart of hunting. Merry Christmas, everyone! And good luck to those of you hitting the woods for the last bit of the season!
On October 20th, I took a sick day from work with the hopes of sticking my first deer with a bow. This was my third year carrying my bow with nothing to show for it, so that morning, any deer would do. By 9:30 I hadn't seen a thing, discouraged, I decided to sit past 10 and make a whole day of it. At 10:15 I had 4 does within 18 yards. The front doe, who looked to be a good 130 pounds, stood broadside and dropped her head to feed. I stood, drew, settled and squeezed. When I released, I saw by lighted nock flew like a tracer and disappear behind her shoulder. She mule kicked and dug hard towards the thicket, tail tucked. I couldn't believe it. What I had dreamed about for years, what had I had played through in my mind sit after sit finally just happened. I knew it was a great hit. I slipped down, found my arrow, and saw the blood spatter on the trees. I knew she couldn't have ran 50 yards..300 yards later in the middle of a clear cut, we lost blood. We tracked all day, which at its peak reached 70 degrees. We knew the deer was no good, but we kept trying. After 7 hours, we cut our losses. After some research, I think I hit a touch too low. The blood was bright and strong, but just stopped. We thought maybe she'd show back up on camera, but two months later she's yet to make an appearance. I guess its like turkey hunting.. when they say "if you haven't missed, you haven't hunted enough." Every bowhunter has made a mistake, lost a deer, or made a bad shot. I guess I can add that to my list now.
By November 15th, I hadn't seen another deer with my bow. I had been carrying by rifle pretty exclusively by this point, because this southern girl bundles up like Ralphie on A Christmas Story. I had seen a handful of does, but with six weeks left of the season, the prideful QDMA mentality had really taken hold of my train of thought. "Nope," Id tell myself ,"No does until the rut is over and I kill an 8 point of bigger. And the doe I do shoot better be 150 pounds or I'm not doing it." November 22nd comes and Brandon's killed two bucks, Bradley's taken four, and here I am with a big goose egg. I had a terrible stomach virus the Friday before, so Brandon and I sat together that morning. Fortunately, a gang of about eight does came out, and I finally got the monkey off of my back. I was just excited about that doe as I was about any buck I'd killed before. I was just as proud of that doe as anything else I'd taken. So that's when it hit me. I had been so wrapped up in the mentality that if it didn't have big horns it wasn't worth it that I missed the whole point of this great sport. Horns aren't everything, and as much as Id love to kill a giant 10 point, a nice nanny doe will do just fine for me. Sometimes I think we have seasons like this just to make us value the little things and humble us. So far, this is my first season without horns, but I'm okay with that. With nine days left of the season, I'm looking to take another doe for our freezer. If buck walks out, I'll be grateful, but if I'm fortunate to take a doe, I'll be proud of her, too. Hunting isn't all big horns and big beards. Its time for some of us to reevaluate our goals and get back to the heart of hunting. Merry Christmas, everyone! And good luck to those of you hitting the woods for the last bit of the season!