The rut is officially here, and I’m halfway through a four-day weekend of diligent bowhunting. I’ve been waiting on this for months now. So far, the action has not disappointed, but unfortunately I cannot say the same for my own personal performance. People will say “that’s bowhunting for you,” and they aren’t wrong. But those words haven’t quite removed the sting from the last two days. But in all fairness, if we are going to become better hunters truly, we have to discuss the bad times just as much as the good times.
About an hour before daylight on November 5th, I found myself settling into my saddle on a public land ridge top in Missouri. I had been in the area once already and had map scouted it diligently. There was rutting buck sign here, so I had high expectations for the hunt. Around 6:45, I heard the soft crunching of leaves behind me. I turned to see a really nice public land buck heading my way.
All I could think about was how sweet this was. A Pope and Young class buck on public land would be quite a feat, but as the buck inched closer, he started to take a very much unwanted route. He started behind a wall of thick briars. He was paralleling my setup at only 20 yards, but the thick brush offered little in terms of shots. My anxiety started to grow, and I could feel the opportunity slipping away.
I found a tiny hole where the buck was soon going to pass through. At this point, my bow was pointed at about 6 o’clock, and I was getting more and more unstable. If you’ve hunted out of a saddle, you know what I’m talking about. The buck eased into my shooting hole, and I quickly drew. As I started to swing my bow to the 5 o’clock position, I could feel some resistance on my bow. I ignored it and tried to settle the pin. As soon as I pulled the trigger on my release, I saw the tail end of the arrow go spiraling about a foot in front of the deer.
“What happened?” I said. Thankfully, it was a clean miss, but it was a complete boneheaded move I came to find out. I determined that as I was swinging my bow, I was hanging up on a limb above my head. I didn’t know it at the time of the shot, but it would explain why I was encountering difficulty maneuvering my bow. It was a rookie mistake if I had ever seen one. I let buck fever get the best of me, and I tried to force something. Turns out that you are never immune to boneheaded mistakes, no matter how many times you have successfully pulled it off.
Fast forward to the next morning, I now found myself hanging in my saddle in an Arkansas river bottom. I was looking for redemption from the day before. I was replaying the events of the previous morning in my head when suddenly I heard the familiar sound of soft crunching in the leaves. I turned my head and saw another nice buck at only 30 yards. This time he was heading in a direction that would offer a comfortable shot out of my saddle.
Before he could step into my shooting lane, he saw me in the tree. He couldn’t quite figure out what I was, but there was no doubt that he was aware of something out of the ordinary. He reluctantly stepped into my shooting lane at about 25 yards. I drew back, centered my pin on his midline, and squeezed the trigger. The buck dropped at the sound of the shot, and I hit a little higher than intended. At the time, I thought the shot was lethal but practiced caution and gave him a couple of hours before taking up the trail.
My dad and I didn’t encounter any blood for about the first 100 yards, and when we did finally find it, it was minimal. We trailed red droplets for another 400 yards before the blood completely stopped. He hadn’t lost much at all, and we determined it was a muscle hit and the buck was alive and would more than likely survive. In retrospect, I think I hit the dreaded “void,” the small triangle below the spine but above the lungs and vasculature.
I felt twice as small as the day before. A miss is one thing, but wounding a deer is the last thing that I want to do. I know it happens, but it makes me sick. Needless to say, my confidence is shaken. I had two deer in comfortable bow range in two days and still have zero punched tags. That’s bowhunting, I guess.
As I stated earlier, we can’t only discuss the good if we want to see hunting for what it truly is. There is some give and take for sure. I was hesitant to write this because nobody wants to highlight their failures, and mine are glaring at the moment. So the question now is: where do I go from here?
As any experienced hunter will tell you, stuff happens. It won’t always go your way. I’ve been on a good streak of good, clean harvests. No misses, no wounded deer, and no boneheaded mistakes for several years, only to be served a big plate of humble pie. I know I can get my season back on track, but it’s going to require a few things. I need to shake off the negativity and anxiety developed from the last couple hunts. I need to keep hunting and get my confidence back. I did everything right except for the shot the last two days. That’s a win in and of itself. And lastly, I need to remember the levity of my situation.
I hunt for fun, self-sufficiency, and personal growth. In the end, nothing has changed. Sure, I’d have a few more antlers to throw on the shelf, but it’s not the end of the world. No major harm has been done; I obviously wounded an animal, but I shouldn’t be crucified for that. It happens. I get to keep hunting, and I’ll get another chance. You can bet that I will be shooting a bunch of extra arrows in the yard the next couple of weeks. I’m praying that God will bless me with another chance to redeem myself, and hopefully it will be a good confidence-building situation.
Just because my hunting has been characterized by rookie mistakes and heartbreak, that doesn’t mean I have to hunt with my head down. It’ll get better. I mean, I get to spend time in the woods chasing whitetails, how much better can it get?