...but it's meat in the freezer.
We knew going into this bow season that our chances weren't high. In Karnes County, the main focus this time of year is dove hunting. Our landowners are of this belief as well. Great for them, not so much for us. We are on 288 acres with a 40-acre coastal and two 1-acre ponds and it's just a dove highway. Unfortunately, we are not allowed to dove hunt - just the family.
Saturday morning, I had a doe and fawn mill around for a while. Once the surrounding area began echoing with shotgun blasts, I saw nothing more.
Saturday evening I walked up the road to my feeder with a full stereo symphony of every sort of shotgun gauge imaginable from our property and every other adjoining. As I approached my feeder, there was nothing around it. I cut through the brush to get to my bow stand. By the time I got to the base, I could hear corn crunching. I knew immediately what I had on my hands, and decided that this might be the only shot I get this weekend (it was). The group let me get up in my stand, pull up my bow, take off my quiver, put on my mask and gloves, strap on my release, and nock an arrow. Then they decided to leave.
About 5 minutes later they came back. I picked out a couple of smaller ones and waiting until I was presented a shot. In the group was a pair of babies so small, they were still nursing on the mother while she fed. I knew I wanted to be careful and not hit them, so I waited some more. Finally one of my choices stepped to the front of the group and started feeding left to right. I drew, aimed and released. I saw the arrow disappear through him and he jumped, then started rolling around back toward my blind. His breathing started laboring, and within a minute I heard him expire.
So, here he is. Not a trophy, but should make for some good eating.
I'm not going to be able to hunt for a few weeks, so maybe by then the dove hunters will subside a little and I'll have a chance at some of the other wildlife we've been seeing on our cameras.
We knew going into this bow season that our chances weren't high. In Karnes County, the main focus this time of year is dove hunting. Our landowners are of this belief as well. Great for them, not so much for us. We are on 288 acres with a 40-acre coastal and two 1-acre ponds and it's just a dove highway. Unfortunately, we are not allowed to dove hunt - just the family.
Saturday morning, I had a doe and fawn mill around for a while. Once the surrounding area began echoing with shotgun blasts, I saw nothing more.
Saturday evening I walked up the road to my feeder with a full stereo symphony of every sort of shotgun gauge imaginable from our property and every other adjoining. As I approached my feeder, there was nothing around it. I cut through the brush to get to my bow stand. By the time I got to the base, I could hear corn crunching. I knew immediately what I had on my hands, and decided that this might be the only shot I get this weekend (it was). The group let me get up in my stand, pull up my bow, take off my quiver, put on my mask and gloves, strap on my release, and nock an arrow. Then they decided to leave.
About 5 minutes later they came back. I picked out a couple of smaller ones and waiting until I was presented a shot. In the group was a pair of babies so small, they were still nursing on the mother while she fed. I knew I wanted to be careful and not hit them, so I waited some more. Finally one of my choices stepped to the front of the group and started feeding left to right. I drew, aimed and released. I saw the arrow disappear through him and he jumped, then started rolling around back toward my blind. His breathing started laboring, and within a minute I heard him expire.
So, here he is. Not a trophy, but should make for some good eating.
I'm not going to be able to hunt for a few weeks, so maybe by then the dove hunters will subside a little and I'll have a chance at some of the other wildlife we've been seeing on our cameras.
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