OK. Where do I begin...
I've been hunting a lease in southern Nebraska for the last 4 years. This pretty much consists of the entirety of my experience in bowhunting deer. It would be an understatement to say that it's been a challenging four years. These midwestern deer are huge but tough to get on and tough to kill. The lessons I've learned have been countless.
My first year, I didn't take a shot. The second year, I put two bad shots on two bucks in two consecutive days. It was a hard lesson, and I dedicated myself to being more prepared. Last year, I took a doe - my first deer with a bow - and that helped my confidence greatly.
This season, my usual first week of November trip had to be cut three days short due to a trial that I had scheduled for the following week. It was a shame because the deer were moving really well and we had seen some nice bucks. I shot a nice 8-point, but he was quartering away heavily and it appeared that I shot too far forward. A thorough search the following day was unsuccessful, and I was again feeling little confidence that I could get this done.
We returned to Nebraska for Thanksgiving, and I was treated with some jewels on the trail camera I had near a popup that I had set in a creek bottom on a pretty major trail. I would spend my long weekend camped out in that blind, hoping that my new friend would return.
Fast forward to this Saturday morning. It was 26 degrees at 7:00 a.m. with about 2 inches of fresh snow on the ground. We were a little slow getting up and around and I got to the blind late - after daylight and hoping I hadn't missed my chance. About an hour later, those concerns were quashed.
The only thing more exciting than hearing footsteps in the fallen leaves is hearing multiple footsteps crunching in the snow. These were on a trail in the creek behind me, and I couldn't see back there, but it sounded promising. To my surprise, they came up behind me and to my right - a place where there was no regular trail. First a doe then her fawn, both looking back nervously (Bingo!!). I wasn't prepared to shoot that direction from my seat, so I stood at about the same time as I heard the tailing footsteps charge up the hill.
I started to draw just in case. It was a good decision, as I had not yet had a chance to warm up, and I struggled greatly to come to full draw after sitting still for an hour in the sub-freezing air. In the meantime, he walked right in front of my sights. I was making just enough racket with my drawing struggles that he stopped to look, giving my a perfect broadside shot at 15 yards.
It was at this point that God stepped in - and I do not say that lightly. One of the things I've worked on a great deal is staying on target as I draw and aim. That paid off tremendously here. I was getting anchored and getting him in the sight as I moved my finger toward the release.
I was still coming down to anchor and about to grunt at him when the arrow took flight. Total shock took over as the arrow buried high and tight behind his shoulder. The buck took off and I was standing there bewildered. It took about 15-20 seconds for me to figure out what happened. It seems that I always make a mistake of some sort, and this one was huge. Due to the cold weather, I was wearing some heavier gloves that I had never before shot in. These are the type that are mittens that fold back to expose your fingers and have a magnet to hold the mitten in place. Apparently, the mitten part wasn't open all the way and it caught my release. I was devastated. (and no, I will never wear that glove on my right hand while hunting again)
For the next 45 minutes, I sat dejected cussing myself up and down for making yet another mistake. Yet, I couldn't get out of my head the fact that the shot looked good despite everything that went wrong. When I finally left the stand, I went to the spot where I shot him and found nothing. I looked about 15 yards up the trail but found no blood or arrow. Growing increasingly angry with myself, I backed out.
We went back to track him about two hours later, and it turns out that my initial search was about 5 yards short of finding 3/4 of my arrow and significant blood. The track of red blood on white snow went only about 80 yards. He had run down into the creek bottom and tried, unsuccessfully, to run up the other side. There he lay with the back 1/4 of my arrow still stuck through both lungs.
The shot was high - but not very. It was too far forward - but not much. The 100-gr. Slick Trick went through the back edge of both shoulder blades on a 250-lb deer and came out the other side. It wasn't a clean passthrough, but I'm not sure how many other broadheads would have even made it through the first shoulder blade. One thing I know for sure - I did not make that shot alone, and I cannot simply chalk it up to luck.
This is my first buck with a bow, and I cannot explain how privileged I feel to have a trophy such as this. He's a 10-point with 6-inch bases, 11 1/2 inch G-2's and an inside spread a touch over 19 inches. I've done a quick green score at 161 gross, 156 net.
Upon reviewing several trail camera pictures, he was coming by this area about every 2-3 days, and I just happened to be there at the right time when he was after that one last doe. He took me by surprise by coming to the window on my right, so I don't have the shot on video (not that I would have had time to turn on the camera anyway), but I will have some video of the rest of the hunt.
Sorry for the long right up. At this point, I can hardly contain my joy and could right all day, so just enjoy the pics... (oh, and I would have liked to have tucked his legs under for the LDP's, but they were pretty much frozen solid, so no such luck)
I've been hunting a lease in southern Nebraska for the last 4 years. This pretty much consists of the entirety of my experience in bowhunting deer. It would be an understatement to say that it's been a challenging four years. These midwestern deer are huge but tough to get on and tough to kill. The lessons I've learned have been countless.
My first year, I didn't take a shot. The second year, I put two bad shots on two bucks in two consecutive days. It was a hard lesson, and I dedicated myself to being more prepared. Last year, I took a doe - my first deer with a bow - and that helped my confidence greatly.
This season, my usual first week of November trip had to be cut three days short due to a trial that I had scheduled for the following week. It was a shame because the deer were moving really well and we had seen some nice bucks. I shot a nice 8-point, but he was quartering away heavily and it appeared that I shot too far forward. A thorough search the following day was unsuccessful, and I was again feeling little confidence that I could get this done.
We returned to Nebraska for Thanksgiving, and I was treated with some jewels on the trail camera I had near a popup that I had set in a creek bottom on a pretty major trail. I would spend my long weekend camped out in that blind, hoping that my new friend would return.
Fast forward to this Saturday morning. It was 26 degrees at 7:00 a.m. with about 2 inches of fresh snow on the ground. We were a little slow getting up and around and I got to the blind late - after daylight and hoping I hadn't missed my chance. About an hour later, those concerns were quashed.
The only thing more exciting than hearing footsteps in the fallen leaves is hearing multiple footsteps crunching in the snow. These were on a trail in the creek behind me, and I couldn't see back there, but it sounded promising. To my surprise, they came up behind me and to my right - a place where there was no regular trail. First a doe then her fawn, both looking back nervously (Bingo!!). I wasn't prepared to shoot that direction from my seat, so I stood at about the same time as I heard the tailing footsteps charge up the hill.
I started to draw just in case. It was a good decision, as I had not yet had a chance to warm up, and I struggled greatly to come to full draw after sitting still for an hour in the sub-freezing air. In the meantime, he walked right in front of my sights. I was making just enough racket with my drawing struggles that he stopped to look, giving my a perfect broadside shot at 15 yards.
It was at this point that God stepped in - and I do not say that lightly. One of the things I've worked on a great deal is staying on target as I draw and aim. That paid off tremendously here. I was getting anchored and getting him in the sight as I moved my finger toward the release.
I was still coming down to anchor and about to grunt at him when the arrow took flight. Total shock took over as the arrow buried high and tight behind his shoulder. The buck took off and I was standing there bewildered. It took about 15-20 seconds for me to figure out what happened. It seems that I always make a mistake of some sort, and this one was huge. Due to the cold weather, I was wearing some heavier gloves that I had never before shot in. These are the type that are mittens that fold back to expose your fingers and have a magnet to hold the mitten in place. Apparently, the mitten part wasn't open all the way and it caught my release. I was devastated. (and no, I will never wear that glove on my right hand while hunting again)
For the next 45 minutes, I sat dejected cussing myself up and down for making yet another mistake. Yet, I couldn't get out of my head the fact that the shot looked good despite everything that went wrong. When I finally left the stand, I went to the spot where I shot him and found nothing. I looked about 15 yards up the trail but found no blood or arrow. Growing increasingly angry with myself, I backed out.
We went back to track him about two hours later, and it turns out that my initial search was about 5 yards short of finding 3/4 of my arrow and significant blood. The track of red blood on white snow went only about 80 yards. He had run down into the creek bottom and tried, unsuccessfully, to run up the other side. There he lay with the back 1/4 of my arrow still stuck through both lungs.
The shot was high - but not very. It was too far forward - but not much. The 100-gr. Slick Trick went through the back edge of both shoulder blades on a 250-lb deer and came out the other side. It wasn't a clean passthrough, but I'm not sure how many other broadheads would have even made it through the first shoulder blade. One thing I know for sure - I did not make that shot alone, and I cannot simply chalk it up to luck.
This is my first buck with a bow, and I cannot explain how privileged I feel to have a trophy such as this. He's a 10-point with 6-inch bases, 11 1/2 inch G-2's and an inside spread a touch over 19 inches. I've done a quick green score at 161 gross, 156 net.
Upon reviewing several trail camera pictures, he was coming by this area about every 2-3 days, and I just happened to be there at the right time when he was after that one last doe. He took me by surprise by coming to the window on my right, so I don't have the shot on video (not that I would have had time to turn on the camera anyway), but I will have some video of the rest of the hunt.
Sorry for the long right up. At this point, I can hardly contain my joy and could right all day, so just enjoy the pics... (oh, and I would have liked to have tucked his legs under for the LDP's, but they were pretty much frozen solid, so no such luck)
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