Learn From My Mistakes
Well, this past Saturday I had the opportunity to sit over a little spot my mother's boyfriend had been baiting with corn for a morning hunt just outside of Comfort. He had been seeing a good 10-pt on the place and since I don't get many opportunities for a big whitetail I passed on a small doe who wandered by on the edge of my shooting limit. Well time went by but no more deer did so I decided to try still hunting a small ravine on the property. When it comes to hunting I can sometimes be a little impatient which can make still hunting especially challenging for me at times.
However, on this particular day I was doing considerably well at remaining disciplined about, "watching, looking and listening more than walking." Within 10 or 15 minutes, and only about 15 yards from the dirt road I began on, I ducked under the branch of a small cedar and squatted to make my observations. Suddenly something caught my eye as being out of place. There only around 7 yards away a small patch of orange fur stood out among the camoflauged tones of the pelt before me. Because it was curled up in a ball, it was hard at first to make out the form of the beautiful gray fox sleeping in front of me. Amazed by the opportunity before me, I pulled back the string and centered the fox in my peep. Knowing the fox was extremely close I settled my pin on the earth before it and let the arrow fly. Unfortunately I did not aim low enough and the arrow zipped harmlessly over the sleeping beauty. At the sound of the errant arrow, the fox awoke from his slumber and began to survey his surroundings. Moving as slowly as possible I reached down by my side and felt for another arrow. I plucked it from the quiver and with my fingers moved it up my hand until I held it by the last third of the shaft. Amazingly (there was absolutely no brush between us) I was able to get the arrow onto my rest and up against my string before the sound of nocking the arrow caused the fox to begin a nervous departure. Believing it was now or never, I yanked back the string, causing the fox to choose a more hasty retreat. With a prayer uttered in the high pitched squeak of a mouse, I was somehow able to stop the fox about 13 yards away behind a deadfall. The fox was obstructed from view with the exception of a large gray patch of fur that held his vitals behind it. I quickly settled my pin and for a second time gave flight to a feathered stick. This time my aim was true and the chaos erupted. In the next 90 seconds I watched the fox roll with the hit like a ball of hissing fur before dashing away with my arrow in tow.
Shaking with excitement, I replayed the previous events in my mind. The fox was mine! All I needed to do now was give him a little time to make his peace with the world. After a quick search, I found my first arrow and was surprised to find the broadhead intact. But then as I was replacing it in my quiver I suddenly realized that I'd snapped it into place next to an arrow tipped with another broadhead. In my 3 arrow quiver I always carried 2 arrows with broadheads and one with a field tip (for rabbits). In my haste I'd grabbed the wrong arrow! After scanning the site of the hit I could find no blood at all. I waited about an hour and began a long search in the direction the fox had headed, but to no avail. I even had a few family members help me look but in the end I only found half of my arrow, scarred with bite marks. I was sick with disappointment.
That day I did not come home with a gorgeous gray fox, ready for the taxidermist. However, I did come away with two very valuable lessons:
1. Practice some shots at ground level targets from 5-7 yards away
2. Never carry field points in your quiver while hunting
The events that day are a bit embarassing to recount. But I posted this in hopes that someone would read it and learn from my mistakes.
Pablo
However, on this particular day I was doing considerably well at remaining disciplined about, "watching, looking and listening more than walking." Within 10 or 15 minutes, and only about 15 yards from the dirt road I began on, I ducked under the branch of a small cedar and squatted to make my observations. Suddenly something caught my eye as being out of place. There only around 7 yards away a small patch of orange fur stood out among the camoflauged tones of the pelt before me. Because it was curled up in a ball, it was hard at first to make out the form of the beautiful gray fox sleeping in front of me. Amazed by the opportunity before me, I pulled back the string and centered the fox in my peep. Knowing the fox was extremely close I settled my pin on the earth before it and let the arrow fly. Unfortunately I did not aim low enough and the arrow zipped harmlessly over the sleeping beauty. At the sound of the errant arrow, the fox awoke from his slumber and began to survey his surroundings. Moving as slowly as possible I reached down by my side and felt for another arrow. I plucked it from the quiver and with my fingers moved it up my hand until I held it by the last third of the shaft. Amazingly (there was absolutely no brush between us) I was able to get the arrow onto my rest and up against my string before the sound of nocking the arrow caused the fox to begin a nervous departure. Believing it was now or never, I yanked back the string, causing the fox to choose a more hasty retreat. With a prayer uttered in the high pitched squeak of a mouse, I was somehow able to stop the fox about 13 yards away behind a deadfall. The fox was obstructed from view with the exception of a large gray patch of fur that held his vitals behind it. I quickly settled my pin and for a second time gave flight to a feathered stick. This time my aim was true and the chaos erupted. In the next 90 seconds I watched the fox roll with the hit like a ball of hissing fur before dashing away with my arrow in tow.
Shaking with excitement, I replayed the previous events in my mind. The fox was mine! All I needed to do now was give him a little time to make his peace with the world. After a quick search, I found my first arrow and was surprised to find the broadhead intact. But then as I was replacing it in my quiver I suddenly realized that I'd snapped it into place next to an arrow tipped with another broadhead. In my 3 arrow quiver I always carried 2 arrows with broadheads and one with a field tip (for rabbits). In my haste I'd grabbed the wrong arrow! After scanning the site of the hit I could find no blood at all. I waited about an hour and began a long search in the direction the fox had headed, but to no avail. I even had a few family members help me look but in the end I only found half of my arrow, scarred with bite marks. I was sick with disappointment.
That day I did not come home with a gorgeous gray fox, ready for the taxidermist. However, I did come away with two very valuable lessons:
1. Practice some shots at ground level targets from 5-7 yards away
2. Never carry field points in your quiver while hunting
The events that day are a bit embarassing to recount. But I posted this in hopes that someone would read it and learn from my mistakes.
Pablo
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