Well, first to make it to the freezer, anyway - I'll apologize for the long story, but this one has been four long years in the making...
My father-in-law introduced me to bowhunting, buying my first bow for me in August 2002. Four years and many lessons later, I am finally able to post my first LDP.
In 2002, I was living in DC and attending law school, so there wasn’t much opportunity to hunt. I did get one chance to go as a guest at my dad’s lease in Harper the day after Christmas. I took a tripod, set it up 20 yards from a feeder and sat there that evening. By some miracle, the following morning, I got a broadside opportunity at a small but nice hill country 8-point. This despite the fact that I knew absolutely nothing about scent control, concealing the blind, etc. Unfortunately, I also didn’t know how to hunt out of a tripod. I was sitting facing straight on to the deer and tried – unsuccessfully, to draw from that position. During my struggle to draw, I was busted and that opportunity was gone. Still – I was hooked
2003 was spent taking the bar, starting a new job, moving, and getting ready for the birth of my daughter, so hunting took a back seat. Then, in 2004, I was invited to join on a lease in Nebraska with my father-in-law. I got a few chances at decent deer that year, but I never took a shot. I left empty-handed that season, but the day we left I started counting the days until the next year’s trip.
Last season was one of frustration. On the sixth day of our trip, I saw the biggest deer I have ever seen on foot in my life. He was easily a 160-class 10-point who came by my stand chasing a doe and presented a 35-yard broadside shot. I was more nervous than I’ve probably ever been in my life – I took too long of a shot and forgot all about my fundamentals. I hit the deer way back – most likely in the hip – and despite several days of searching only ever found about two small drops of blood. To make matters worse, the following morning I put a stupid shot on an 8-point who was facing straight at me. I hit exactly where I was aiming and hit at least one lung, but after tracking him more than a mile, the trail doubled back and went cold. (and no, I will never take that shot again).
After last year, I knew I needed to be more serious about my preparation if I was going to hunt successfully and ethically. That is exactly what I did this year – practicing regularly throughout the off season and working on my “mental game.†I knew that I would be 100% ready for this season.
A month or so ago, I did put a good shot on a sow at my neighbor's new place in Milam County, but all I ever found was my bloody arrow (I posted about this right before the crash, I believe). I knew that was a good shot, but I was not rewarded.
On this year’s trip to Nebraska, everything that could go wrong did. Due to a wedding that we had to attend, we lost two and a half days off the front end of our trip. The weather reports were looking good but turned bad as we got there. On Wednesday (the 4th day of a 6-day hunt), the temperature was 85 degrees – an all time high for Nebraska in the month of November. This, combined with the fact that we arrived right in the middle of the full moon – and there were no clouds all week – would have been enough. To make things worse, the landowner decided that the peak of the rut would be a good time to dig three new tanks, build dams on several creeks, and have a crew cutting cedars in various parts of the pasture. (I will say, to his defense, that he was at least apologetic about the situation) All-in-all, it was lovely.
Finally, on Thursday morning, the weather cooled a bit. A nice 8-point gave me a perfect shot opportunity, but he was a bit young and had a broken G-2, so I passed on the shot. Five minutes later, I was already regretting it. That same morning, I took what I thought was a 30-yard shot at a turkey and shot about an inch over his back. My rangefinder then confirmed that the shot was 28 yards from my treestand. Combined with the height of my stand, I should have aimed low. Oh well, I have to buy Thanksgiving dinner again….
Friday was the last day of the hunt. I had both a buck tag and a doe tag, so there was intense danger for any mature four-legged creature walking near my stand. Sure enough, the situation set up perfectly. Two mature doe came in off a soybean field behind me. They milled around long enough for me to confirm that El Jeffe was indeed not somewhere behind them, and I decided that I would take one if given the chance.
In September, we had planted a very small food plot in the bottom of the creek bed I was hunting. One of the doe started heading toward that food plot. She crossed under a fence that sits about 20 yards from my stand, walked to the nearest part of the plot, and put her head down. She was directly downwind, but the combination of Scentlock, a good shower, and the stench of the Buck Bomb I had set off that morning (first time I’ve tried one of those – man are they strong), kept me undetected at less than 10 yards.
When she reached the food plot 12 yards from my stand, I drew and picked a spot (I can honestly day this is the first time I have consciously gone through the steps – draw, check form, pick a spot, etc.) and the arrow found its mark in the crease behind her shoulder. She was quartering away slightly more than I had thought, so I didn’t get a clean pass through. She took off with the arrow sticking out and I worried for a second that I had again put a bad shot on one. She ran up the hill on the other side of the creek bottom and started doing the wobbling, tail-shaking routine you see on the videos, which made me feel much better. She jumped a fence into a stand of cedars and I lost her.
After an agonizing hour in the tree, I got down to track. At the bottom of the creek I found my arrow in two pieces. There was also lots of blood – much more than on the bad shots I had previously made. When I got to the top of the hill and over the fence, I found her piled up under the second cedar tree she had reached. All-in-all, she had only gone about 60 yards. The arrow had clipped the heart and taken out a lung and came out in front of her shoulder. Due to the angle, it hadn’t passed through cleanly but was sticking out of both sides. She apparently broke the arrow when she ran and both ends fell out quickly.
I field-dressed her there and didn’t weigh her, but she was carrying ½ inch of fat over her last rib and more than an inch over her hip. The backstraps are the biggest I’ve ever seen (of course, this is my first Midwestern deer) and I can now say – very tasty.
I never thought I’d be beaming over taking a doe, but I can honestly say I am as proud of this one as I would be if I had downed that 160-class buck. Now, I’m heading back up after Thanksgiving to find that buck or his big brother…
Here are the obligatory LDP's - I've really got to get better at this. I forgot to take any pictures with my bow, and she was already dressed and dragged out of the creek bottom before I remembered to take any pictures at all.
(Now I only regret that I didn't get this done before Elvis left the building)
My father-in-law introduced me to bowhunting, buying my first bow for me in August 2002. Four years and many lessons later, I am finally able to post my first LDP.
In 2002, I was living in DC and attending law school, so there wasn’t much opportunity to hunt. I did get one chance to go as a guest at my dad’s lease in Harper the day after Christmas. I took a tripod, set it up 20 yards from a feeder and sat there that evening. By some miracle, the following morning, I got a broadside opportunity at a small but nice hill country 8-point. This despite the fact that I knew absolutely nothing about scent control, concealing the blind, etc. Unfortunately, I also didn’t know how to hunt out of a tripod. I was sitting facing straight on to the deer and tried – unsuccessfully, to draw from that position. During my struggle to draw, I was busted and that opportunity was gone. Still – I was hooked
2003 was spent taking the bar, starting a new job, moving, and getting ready for the birth of my daughter, so hunting took a back seat. Then, in 2004, I was invited to join on a lease in Nebraska with my father-in-law. I got a few chances at decent deer that year, but I never took a shot. I left empty-handed that season, but the day we left I started counting the days until the next year’s trip.
Last season was one of frustration. On the sixth day of our trip, I saw the biggest deer I have ever seen on foot in my life. He was easily a 160-class 10-point who came by my stand chasing a doe and presented a 35-yard broadside shot. I was more nervous than I’ve probably ever been in my life – I took too long of a shot and forgot all about my fundamentals. I hit the deer way back – most likely in the hip – and despite several days of searching only ever found about two small drops of blood. To make matters worse, the following morning I put a stupid shot on an 8-point who was facing straight at me. I hit exactly where I was aiming and hit at least one lung, but after tracking him more than a mile, the trail doubled back and went cold. (and no, I will never take that shot again).
After last year, I knew I needed to be more serious about my preparation if I was going to hunt successfully and ethically. That is exactly what I did this year – practicing regularly throughout the off season and working on my “mental game.†I knew that I would be 100% ready for this season.
A month or so ago, I did put a good shot on a sow at my neighbor's new place in Milam County, but all I ever found was my bloody arrow (I posted about this right before the crash, I believe). I knew that was a good shot, but I was not rewarded.
On this year’s trip to Nebraska, everything that could go wrong did. Due to a wedding that we had to attend, we lost two and a half days off the front end of our trip. The weather reports were looking good but turned bad as we got there. On Wednesday (the 4th day of a 6-day hunt), the temperature was 85 degrees – an all time high for Nebraska in the month of November. This, combined with the fact that we arrived right in the middle of the full moon – and there were no clouds all week – would have been enough. To make things worse, the landowner decided that the peak of the rut would be a good time to dig three new tanks, build dams on several creeks, and have a crew cutting cedars in various parts of the pasture. (I will say, to his defense, that he was at least apologetic about the situation) All-in-all, it was lovely.
Finally, on Thursday morning, the weather cooled a bit. A nice 8-point gave me a perfect shot opportunity, but he was a bit young and had a broken G-2, so I passed on the shot. Five minutes later, I was already regretting it. That same morning, I took what I thought was a 30-yard shot at a turkey and shot about an inch over his back. My rangefinder then confirmed that the shot was 28 yards from my treestand. Combined with the height of my stand, I should have aimed low. Oh well, I have to buy Thanksgiving dinner again….
Friday was the last day of the hunt. I had both a buck tag and a doe tag, so there was intense danger for any mature four-legged creature walking near my stand. Sure enough, the situation set up perfectly. Two mature doe came in off a soybean field behind me. They milled around long enough for me to confirm that El Jeffe was indeed not somewhere behind them, and I decided that I would take one if given the chance.
In September, we had planted a very small food plot in the bottom of the creek bed I was hunting. One of the doe started heading toward that food plot. She crossed under a fence that sits about 20 yards from my stand, walked to the nearest part of the plot, and put her head down. She was directly downwind, but the combination of Scentlock, a good shower, and the stench of the Buck Bomb I had set off that morning (first time I’ve tried one of those – man are they strong), kept me undetected at less than 10 yards.
When she reached the food plot 12 yards from my stand, I drew and picked a spot (I can honestly day this is the first time I have consciously gone through the steps – draw, check form, pick a spot, etc.) and the arrow found its mark in the crease behind her shoulder. She was quartering away slightly more than I had thought, so I didn’t get a clean pass through. She took off with the arrow sticking out and I worried for a second that I had again put a bad shot on one. She ran up the hill on the other side of the creek bottom and started doing the wobbling, tail-shaking routine you see on the videos, which made me feel much better. She jumped a fence into a stand of cedars and I lost her.
After an agonizing hour in the tree, I got down to track. At the bottom of the creek I found my arrow in two pieces. There was also lots of blood – much more than on the bad shots I had previously made. When I got to the top of the hill and over the fence, I found her piled up under the second cedar tree she had reached. All-in-all, she had only gone about 60 yards. The arrow had clipped the heart and taken out a lung and came out in front of her shoulder. Due to the angle, it hadn’t passed through cleanly but was sticking out of both sides. She apparently broke the arrow when she ran and both ends fell out quickly.
I field-dressed her there and didn’t weigh her, but she was carrying ½ inch of fat over her last rib and more than an inch over her hip. The backstraps are the biggest I’ve ever seen (of course, this is my first Midwestern deer) and I can now say – very tasty.
I never thought I’d be beaming over taking a doe, but I can honestly say I am as proud of this one as I would be if I had downed that 160-class buck. Now, I’m heading back up after Thanksgiving to find that buck or his big brother…
Here are the obligatory LDP's - I've really got to get better at this. I forgot to take any pictures with my bow, and she was already dressed and dragged out of the creek bottom before I remembered to take any pictures at all.
(Now I only regret that I didn't get this done before Elvis left the building)
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