Post by Buckfever on Dec 5, 2006 22:04:56 GMT -5
Sorry no pics as I gave away the deer and didn't bring the camera. But maybe I can describe it. It snowed here last Friday 6-9" a blanket of snow. A full moon. Everyday when driving to and from work, the deer were moving, feeding. And everyday I longed to get out there again. A SW wind put me in the Honey Locust setup. It's always exciting when hunting a new setup. And it was with great excitement that I anticipated the sign that the snow would reveal. The river was high and I went up and over the bridge picking up Carl's tracks from the morning. He's the only other hunter who hunts across the river. His tracks were aways from where his setup is, he was scouting, his stand has probably turned cold. I made my way along the bluff skirting the thicket, the tracks were heavy and as I suspected the guns pushed many deer into the thicket. I followed the circuitious route to the Honey Locust and the sign was incredible and the ample fresh droppings held the promise of a successful hunt. When I arrived at the foot of the tree I examined the cross trail and right there were 2 beds in the snow revealing the fresh ground. And also revealing that the rains, that I had used to make the setups had indeed washed away my scent. Even more promise I thought.
It is a wondrous thing hunting over a blanket of snow, the crystalline reflection of light, the cloaking of all that is the thicket, as if spray painted white. And then the framing of the deer movement against that backdrop, sending my heart racing. There is something magical about hunting in the snow. Those deer went wide and out of sight and I set the bow down. Ironically, they went by the first Osage tree setup, that I had just tore down, to move to the Honey Locust. But I had confidence in my setup and the cover that it provided, so very critical for the late season.
Not 15 minutes went by and I was yet again visited. I checked to be sure that it was a doe, harder now with their seemingly thicker coats. I had checked this tree from her vantage and set the stand behind the tree and carved into the adjacent Osage. She was feeding relaxed for ten minutes hardly moving, there was a window to the vitals, but I wanted it further forward. I thought whe might turn and feed away and then saw the branch from the osage that she was sliding by. No she won't turn before she clears that brach, I thought. Be ready to draw when she finally moves. My eyes on her near leg she lift and starts forward, I draw, she's clear. I find the sight guard in the peep, I place the pin, but it's floating. SETTLE IT!!! I scream in my head and the pin stops and the arrow is released almost unconsciously.
She tears straight away, full throttle cicling and angling back, she slows to sneeze and continues out of sight. There is no crash, the snow is silent.
I do not like the distance she's covered. I want to check the arrow. NO!!! Pull your stand, pack up the coverall and bow, keep things clean. NW wind tomorrow, you're hunting the OsageII setup tomorrow, give her that time, then go check.
Packed up, I quickly make my way to the arrow. Not much blood, a little spray, smells clean. No trail, in the snow? Oh there it is, just not much. I'm not liking this, 5 yards, 10 yards, 15 yards, a little bit, a little bit more and then it's like the blood exploded out of both sides, extending three feet out both ways. She's dead. Like a masterpiece painted on a canvass of snow, that is revealed to me.
I follow the spray as quickly as I can traverse the thicket and locate my treasure. The placement is perfect, both lungs centerpunched and am amazed at the distance covered and marvel at the fortitude, once again, of these magnificent animals.
It was a good hunt.
It is a wondrous thing hunting over a blanket of snow, the crystalline reflection of light, the cloaking of all that is the thicket, as if spray painted white. And then the framing of the deer movement against that backdrop, sending my heart racing. There is something magical about hunting in the snow. Those deer went wide and out of sight and I set the bow down. Ironically, they went by the first Osage tree setup, that I had just tore down, to move to the Honey Locust. But I had confidence in my setup and the cover that it provided, so very critical for the late season.
Not 15 minutes went by and I was yet again visited. I checked to be sure that it was a doe, harder now with their seemingly thicker coats. I had checked this tree from her vantage and set the stand behind the tree and carved into the adjacent Osage. She was feeding relaxed for ten minutes hardly moving, there was a window to the vitals, but I wanted it further forward. I thought whe might turn and feed away and then saw the branch from the osage that she was sliding by. No she won't turn before she clears that brach, I thought. Be ready to draw when she finally moves. My eyes on her near leg she lift and starts forward, I draw, she's clear. I find the sight guard in the peep, I place the pin, but it's floating. SETTLE IT!!! I scream in my head and the pin stops and the arrow is released almost unconsciously.
She tears straight away, full throttle cicling and angling back, she slows to sneeze and continues out of sight. There is no crash, the snow is silent.
I do not like the distance she's covered. I want to check the arrow. NO!!! Pull your stand, pack up the coverall and bow, keep things clean. NW wind tomorrow, you're hunting the OsageII setup tomorrow, give her that time, then go check.
Packed up, I quickly make my way to the arrow. Not much blood, a little spray, smells clean. No trail, in the snow? Oh there it is, just not much. I'm not liking this, 5 yards, 10 yards, 15 yards, a little bit, a little bit more and then it's like the blood exploded out of both sides, extending three feet out both ways. She's dead. Like a masterpiece painted on a canvass of snow, that is revealed to me.
I follow the spray as quickly as I can traverse the thicket and locate my treasure. The placement is perfect, both lungs centerpunched and am amazed at the distance covered and marvel at the fortitude, once again, of these magnificent animals.
It was a good hunt.
