One of the plethora of reasons I enjoy spending time on HuntTalk is the learning aspect offered by members various adventure stories. Already this fall there have been tales told of successes, missed opportunities, and wayward shots that ended up being lethal, and some non-recovered animals. Monday morning quarterbacking from the safety of my easy chair might make me start to think I would know what to do in any of the above situations, and yet the stories provide various options considered, alternatives rejected, and a certain course of action pursued to a conclusion.
There are times that I have been quite happy to hold my shot. There could be myriads of reasons why, such as quarry distance, safety issues (skyline, backdrop, other critters), holding out for a certain size of animal, concern about species ID, time of day/lighting problems, too early to harvest on a long scheduled hunt, a feeling like this one is not the "ONE" I want to shoot, your partner is holding your bullets and won't give you one to "have a go", and I suppose dozens more reasons to hold off.
I hope that by starting this thread, you HuntTalkers, both young and old, newbs and crusty veterans might tell a story of two of how you were glad to hold back and not squeeze the trigger and in telling the tale, help us all in pre-planning tactics, ethics and self limitations that in hindsight were the correct move for the day (or perhaps, I suppose, ones that you regret not going ahead as well!)
I can start from my experience this morning. Kansas archery deer season (concurrently running with muzzleloader season right now) has been open for over a week. Due to a wedding, I didn't get to go out the opener weekend, so I rose early this morning to make my inaugural run to a local wildlife area to see what was up with the deer. Poor planning had me sitting down without my shooting stick for my crossbow, but the slope of the hill and my elevated position over the creek bottom would allow me a good solid knee rest should a deer come through on the creek bottom well worn trail. Right at legal shooting time, I heard a "snort, snort, snoooort" and splashing water noises. Moments later a deer of unknown gender ran down the trail. I could tell it was a mature deer by its size, but couldn't see in the bottoms either antlers or no antlers.
Happy to have seen a deer, I remained alert, scanning the woods and creek bottom. A half an hour later, deer movement to my left caught my attention. The deer came down to get a drink, and then crossed the creek and I knew that this deer was probably on a diagonal path towards me, and would come up to my elevation on the high bank hard to my left. Shifting my body so that I could bring my crossbow into ready position, I waited and saw the tiny antlers of a yearling buck come up the trail.
Driving in this morning, I had determined that I was going to shoot any antlerless deer I saw. I also told myself that I wasn't going to shoot just any buck, but was going to hold out for a fully mature buck. This little forky was safe. Or so I had planned. He stopped his progress on the trail, and started to work on some of the fallen acorns. Tens yards away. From my perspective, I could easily see his head and neck area, but his arrow vital zone was covered by the oak tree. Through the scope I could see how long his eyelashes were, and I could see that he had a tear in his left ear.
The private/public boundary was another twenty yards beyond this little yearling, and I had already determined that any buck killed by kansasdad today would be a big one, so I knew he was safe. And he stood there. And he looked right at me, hunkered down behind a log, screened by the underbrush. And he ate some more. And he stood there. And my resolve started to wane. I haven't yet taken a deer with arrow. I tried hard last year. I had my safety off multiple times, but never took a shot. And he was standing there, as if to test my resolve. And then he turned his head away from me, and even moved just enough forward that I would be able to slip an arrow right into the heart/lung pocket. He's so close, I would have to try to miss him. And after another legit minute of "aiming practice", my resolve was really slipping.
Finally the barking of the private land dogs got this deer to turn and run back down the trail he used to come see me. I had held firm, and knew that I should have done so, but had I not predetermined that little bucks (and ones standing five jumps from the private/public boundary) get to see another sunset, I might have pulled the trigger when I shouldn't have.
There are times that I have been quite happy to hold my shot. There could be myriads of reasons why, such as quarry distance, safety issues (skyline, backdrop, other critters), holding out for a certain size of animal, concern about species ID, time of day/lighting problems, too early to harvest on a long scheduled hunt, a feeling like this one is not the "ONE" I want to shoot, your partner is holding your bullets and won't give you one to "have a go", and I suppose dozens more reasons to hold off.
I hope that by starting this thread, you HuntTalkers, both young and old, newbs and crusty veterans might tell a story of two of how you were glad to hold back and not squeeze the trigger and in telling the tale, help us all in pre-planning tactics, ethics and self limitations that in hindsight were the correct move for the day (or perhaps, I suppose, ones that you regret not going ahead as well!)
I can start from my experience this morning. Kansas archery deer season (concurrently running with muzzleloader season right now) has been open for over a week. Due to a wedding, I didn't get to go out the opener weekend, so I rose early this morning to make my inaugural run to a local wildlife area to see what was up with the deer. Poor planning had me sitting down without my shooting stick for my crossbow, but the slope of the hill and my elevated position over the creek bottom would allow me a good solid knee rest should a deer come through on the creek bottom well worn trail. Right at legal shooting time, I heard a "snort, snort, snoooort" and splashing water noises. Moments later a deer of unknown gender ran down the trail. I could tell it was a mature deer by its size, but couldn't see in the bottoms either antlers or no antlers.
Happy to have seen a deer, I remained alert, scanning the woods and creek bottom. A half an hour later, deer movement to my left caught my attention. The deer came down to get a drink, and then crossed the creek and I knew that this deer was probably on a diagonal path towards me, and would come up to my elevation on the high bank hard to my left. Shifting my body so that I could bring my crossbow into ready position, I waited and saw the tiny antlers of a yearling buck come up the trail.
Driving in this morning, I had determined that I was going to shoot any antlerless deer I saw. I also told myself that I wasn't going to shoot just any buck, but was going to hold out for a fully mature buck. This little forky was safe. Or so I had planned. He stopped his progress on the trail, and started to work on some of the fallen acorns. Tens yards away. From my perspective, I could easily see his head and neck area, but his arrow vital zone was covered by the oak tree. Through the scope I could see how long his eyelashes were, and I could see that he had a tear in his left ear.
The private/public boundary was another twenty yards beyond this little yearling, and I had already determined that any buck killed by kansasdad today would be a big one, so I knew he was safe. And he stood there. And he looked right at me, hunkered down behind a log, screened by the underbrush. And he ate some more. And he stood there. And my resolve started to wane. I haven't yet taken a deer with arrow. I tried hard last year. I had my safety off multiple times, but never took a shot. And he was standing there, as if to test my resolve. And then he turned his head away from me, and even moved just enough forward that I would be able to slip an arrow right into the heart/lung pocket. He's so close, I would have to try to miss him. And after another legit minute of "aiming practice", my resolve was really slipping.
Finally the barking of the private land dogs got this deer to turn and run back down the trail he used to come see me. I had held firm, and knew that I should have done so, but had I not predetermined that little bucks (and ones standing five jumps from the private/public boundary) get to see another sunset, I might have pulled the trigger when I shouldn't have.
