Gut Shot
Well-known member
It's been many years since I've killed a deer with my bow. Come to think of it I haven't killed any big game animal in...five years? Hunting hasn't been great for me lately as work and life have gotten in the way and what little time I did spend hunting was dedicated to making sure my kids and wife got their animals. This year I made a promise to myself that I spend time hunting and fishing. Some of life's problems would just have to wait. I spent more time at the farm and was able to get a food plot planted, which worked great. In fact it worked a little too great because the deer ate it down to nothing and it's just bare dirt now. Still, I planted it in a good funnel and so I decided to sit there Saturday afternoon.
One buck came through a little before 3:00. He was young and half of his rack was broken off. It was at this point that I realized I left my rangefinder at home. The neighbor had turned his cattle loose on the overgrown pasture to my west, which was where the deer had been bedding. I sat all afternoon watching the cattle and wondering where the deer would move their bedding area to. In my experience deer, especially old bucks, don't like to bed around cows. As evening came closer does started to move. A pair to my northwest got up and fed to the west. Later two more jumped the fence and walked the crest of the hill to my south. A lone doe jumped the fence at the same spot and came downhill towards me. She walked the trail forty five yards from me and was soon gone. It seemed that I wouldn't get a deer tonight.
Age and multiple eye surgeries have left me with lousy night vision. That and the fact that I was sitting in a dark ground blind in a deep valley made me decide that I should pack up and get out. I knew that outside the blind I'd have several more minutes of light to shoot with. So, I started packing up fifteen minutes before last light. Dumping my deer call into my pack it clanked against something. So much for a stealthy exit. Then I clanked my trigger release against my chair. It was starting to look like amateur hour and I cursed myself when I looked out the window to see a deer forty five yards out, ears up, looking at the blind. I pulled the binocular up for a better look. Nice buck!
I was blessed to be hunting during that magical time of year when bucks are pumped up on testosterone and not thinking as clearly as they should be. While the buck stood there staring I slipped the call around my neck out and blew a doe bleat at him. He immediately calmed down and started slowly sniffing along the trail. A couple of buck grunts made him turn and step into the food plot. He was coming but quartering steeply towards me. Not seeing the buck and doe that he'd heard he decided to turn around and leave. When he turned he paused broadside. I guessed him to be at around 34-35 yards and looking at me on alert. My bow sight was set at 30 yards and I still aimed low. When I dropped the string I lost sight of the arrow in the dim light (part of my follow through routine is to watch the arrow until it hits). I heard the hollow "pop" when it hit though, and the buck took off like a shot. He ran straight, through the stand of Egyptian wheat and on into the tall grass and weeds. I couldn't see him but I heard him crashing off, then silence.
I couldn't be sure of the shot and didn't want to turn on a light to look for blood yet. I crept out and back to the truck figuring there was nothing lost by letting him go for a couple of hours. I visited with the neighbors who's season (until that evening) was going like mine. They were seeing plenty of deer but no big bucks. I drove home (45 minutes) got some dinner and recruited my wife to help track. Back at the farm, two and a half hours later, I found the arrow covered in blood. I handed it to my wife and asked if it smelled like bile (Covid left my sense of smell a shadow of what it was). She said it didn't smell and we soon found blood. The blood trail was easy to follow but no foamy blood and no spray. I was starting to worry when my wife said "he's right here." He ran about fifty yards and the crashing I heard when he ran off was him thrashing around in the throes of death. The arrow hit high and a little back as he ducked the shot. It caught the liver and he bled out quickly.
In the field.
At home the next morning.
One buck came through a little before 3:00. He was young and half of his rack was broken off. It was at this point that I realized I left my rangefinder at home. The neighbor had turned his cattle loose on the overgrown pasture to my west, which was where the deer had been bedding. I sat all afternoon watching the cattle and wondering where the deer would move their bedding area to. In my experience deer, especially old bucks, don't like to bed around cows. As evening came closer does started to move. A pair to my northwest got up and fed to the west. Later two more jumped the fence and walked the crest of the hill to my south. A lone doe jumped the fence at the same spot and came downhill towards me. She walked the trail forty five yards from me and was soon gone. It seemed that I wouldn't get a deer tonight.
Age and multiple eye surgeries have left me with lousy night vision. That and the fact that I was sitting in a dark ground blind in a deep valley made me decide that I should pack up and get out. I knew that outside the blind I'd have several more minutes of light to shoot with. So, I started packing up fifteen minutes before last light. Dumping my deer call into my pack it clanked against something. So much for a stealthy exit. Then I clanked my trigger release against my chair. It was starting to look like amateur hour and I cursed myself when I looked out the window to see a deer forty five yards out, ears up, looking at the blind. I pulled the binocular up for a better look. Nice buck!
I was blessed to be hunting during that magical time of year when bucks are pumped up on testosterone and not thinking as clearly as they should be. While the buck stood there staring I slipped the call around my neck out and blew a doe bleat at him. He immediately calmed down and started slowly sniffing along the trail. A couple of buck grunts made him turn and step into the food plot. He was coming but quartering steeply towards me. Not seeing the buck and doe that he'd heard he decided to turn around and leave. When he turned he paused broadside. I guessed him to be at around 34-35 yards and looking at me on alert. My bow sight was set at 30 yards and I still aimed low. When I dropped the string I lost sight of the arrow in the dim light (part of my follow through routine is to watch the arrow until it hits). I heard the hollow "pop" when it hit though, and the buck took off like a shot. He ran straight, through the stand of Egyptian wheat and on into the tall grass and weeds. I couldn't see him but I heard him crashing off, then silence.
I couldn't be sure of the shot and didn't want to turn on a light to look for blood yet. I crept out and back to the truck figuring there was nothing lost by letting him go for a couple of hours. I visited with the neighbors who's season (until that evening) was going like mine. They were seeing plenty of deer but no big bucks. I drove home (45 minutes) got some dinner and recruited my wife to help track. Back at the farm, two and a half hours later, I found the arrow covered in blood. I handed it to my wife and asked if it smelled like bile (Covid left my sense of smell a shadow of what it was). She said it didn't smell and we soon found blood. The blood trail was easy to follow but no foamy blood and no spray. I was starting to worry when my wife said "he's right here." He ran about fifty yards and the crashing I heard when he ran off was him thrashing around in the throes of death. The arrow hit high and a little back as he ducked the shot. It caught the liver and he bled out quickly.
In the field.
At home the next morning.
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