Timberninja
Lil-Rokslider
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2013
- Messages
- 277
If you want to read the play by play version, jump further down. The short version is, shot a mule deer, pics below.
LONG VERSION..
I missed the first beginning of the season as I did my bi annual pilgrimage to Sweden to see friends and family. Aside from missing the opener, this also meant I burned my vacation days. To make things even more challenging, my wife works Saturdays. After a couple of Sundays with blown stalks due to swirling wind, the final weekend of season arrived. I managed to find a babysitter to help cover for me on saturday and ventured to the mountains.
I made it to my glassing spot early enough that I took a nap waiting for daylight. My expectations were low, each outing I’d seen fewer and fewer bucks. This, coupled with the unusual heat put extra pressure on finding something to pursue in the first 30 minutes of daylight, deer bedded faster than dracula. As the sun crept up, the grid search began. Despite wanting to panic glass at tennis spectator pace, I kept my composure. After 10 minutes, I picked out a deer feeding behind some pines. It was far away where I couldn’t see any antlers but based on the location and body size, I was pretty sure it would be a buck. I waited until he was in a decent size opening and made the switch to the spotter. (The weekend prior I lost track of a buck when switching to the spotter..)
Sure enough, he was a buck and with a close to empty freezer, that fulfilled the only size requirement I had. He was the first hard horned deer I’d seen this season and given how close he was to the timber, I worried he would disappear before I could see him bed. As he started dropping elevation my fears set in, he was on a straight-line to the thick stuff. But as soon as he hit the shadows on the steep slope, he bedded down. I could barely see him through the spotter given the angle. It took an ear flick or head move for me to reconfirm he was still there.
The sun would hit him sooner than later and with fear of loosing sight of him altogether, I decided to move to get a better vantage point of the area he was in. I zipped along the ridge found a spot that looked better and sat down. After some stressful minutes behind the spotter I was able to relocate him again, up and feeding, then disappear. After some in and out behind the timber and a couple of stressful glassing spot relocations, I was able to relocate him just as he was kicking a bed right behind a big boulder. This had to be his bed for the day.. I couldn’t see exactly where he bedded but took some waypoints, photos and started the trek to get around to him. At this point, the time was 10.30am.
Last time I saw him feeding.
Around 2.5 hours later, I dropped my pack and boots. Different than other days I’d hunted, there were clouds and a while there was barely any wind, it was pretty steady.
I made my way towards where I thought he’d bedded. When I got close, I sat down, glassed, moved one foot, glassed etc. The terrain had a ton of features but he was bedded facing the direction I was coming from and I wanted to make sure I saw him first. As I was sitting contemplating where he could be, I see antler tips move in front of a rock formation below me. Shortly thereafter, he feeds out, the rangerfinder said 60 yards but he is facing away from me. At this point, the wind is almost calm and I can hear every bite he takes. After feeding for a couple of minutes, he starts raking the bushes. I seize the opportunity and scoot out of sight of him, tip toe around a knoll to get a broadside angle. As I peak around the corner, he’s moved. I range all the openings and wait. Nothing. Minutes go by and I’m sure he hasn’t left the area as I’d have heard somethig. I start to suspect he is bedded again and sit down. All of a sudden antler tips pop up again and step by step, he feeds into an opening I had ranged, perfectly broadside. I draw, anchor, take my sweet time to settle in, split the 40/50 pins AND SEND THE ARROW WAY OVER HIS BACK.
I instantly knew my mistake, he was WAY closer than 45 as the bush he was in front of was at 37. While waiting, I’d mixed up the distances.. While he runs away, I’m deflated, this was easily the best shot opportunity I’ve had in my life, I could have ranged and re-ranged several times but “thought” I had the distance on lock. Anyway, he stops at 80 yards and looks back. I’m holding out my bow to cover my face and have another arrow nocked. Too far to shoot. But low and behold, he turns around and starts walking back the way he came from. As soon as I start thinking I’ll get another opportunity in the opening, he stops. He is standing still so long my bow arm starts shaking. I sneak my hand up, range him at 60, dial, draw back as he looks away and shoot again. I can’t see the hit but hear a loud twack. He runs downhill, disappears behind some trees, when I see him again, he is limping bad and wobbles a bit, it almost looks like he’ll tip over. I can see the what would have been the exit side but I can’t see any blood in the binoculars. As he moves out of sight, I listen for several minutes but can’t hear as much as a twig snap.
As I sneak back to my boots and pack, doubt of how good of a hit it was sets in, between the limp and the sound of the hit, my mind starts to wander. Around 3600 long seconds later (around 3pm), I make my way down to where he stood. I can clearly see his tracks and start looking for sign. A little drop 5 yards down the path he ran is followed by the broke off arrow. Based on the blood, I’d gotten about 15 inches of penetration which made me feel better.
The blood trail was fairly sparse but I take my time and continue to find leads. At times, I can walk and follow it, but more often than not, I end up circling the dark timber on hands and knees to find clues. Several times, I get really concerned only to find hope in the form of a speck of blood minutes later. It’s an emotional rollercoaster on repeat.
This would be an above average one.
Additionally, the clouds are getting darker and darker and fear of rain starts to set in, and with that came the stress. I had several hours of daylight left, but even a light rain would make a challenging blood trail really tough..
The trail takes me through some nasty terrain up to a bench where I find a bed. With views covering his backtrail, I’m fairly certain he’s seen me and moved off. What’s more concerning is the tiny amount of blood in the bed. Barely visible in the picture.
continued below..
LONG VERSION..
I missed the first beginning of the season as I did my bi annual pilgrimage to Sweden to see friends and family. Aside from missing the opener, this also meant I burned my vacation days. To make things even more challenging, my wife works Saturdays. After a couple of Sundays with blown stalks due to swirling wind, the final weekend of season arrived. I managed to find a babysitter to help cover for me on saturday and ventured to the mountains.
I made it to my glassing spot early enough that I took a nap waiting for daylight. My expectations were low, each outing I’d seen fewer and fewer bucks. This, coupled with the unusual heat put extra pressure on finding something to pursue in the first 30 minutes of daylight, deer bedded faster than dracula. As the sun crept up, the grid search began. Despite wanting to panic glass at tennis spectator pace, I kept my composure. After 10 minutes, I picked out a deer feeding behind some pines. It was far away where I couldn’t see any antlers but based on the location and body size, I was pretty sure it would be a buck. I waited until he was in a decent size opening and made the switch to the spotter. (The weekend prior I lost track of a buck when switching to the spotter..)
Sure enough, he was a buck and with a close to empty freezer, that fulfilled the only size requirement I had. He was the first hard horned deer I’d seen this season and given how close he was to the timber, I worried he would disappear before I could see him bed. As he started dropping elevation my fears set in, he was on a straight-line to the thick stuff. But as soon as he hit the shadows on the steep slope, he bedded down. I could barely see him through the spotter given the angle. It took an ear flick or head move for me to reconfirm he was still there.
The sun would hit him sooner than later and with fear of loosing sight of him altogether, I decided to move to get a better vantage point of the area he was in. I zipped along the ridge found a spot that looked better and sat down. After some stressful minutes behind the spotter I was able to relocate him again, up and feeding, then disappear. After some in and out behind the timber and a couple of stressful glassing spot relocations, I was able to relocate him just as he was kicking a bed right behind a big boulder. This had to be his bed for the day.. I couldn’t see exactly where he bedded but took some waypoints, photos and started the trek to get around to him. At this point, the time was 10.30am.
Last time I saw him feeding.
Around 2.5 hours later, I dropped my pack and boots. Different than other days I’d hunted, there were clouds and a while there was barely any wind, it was pretty steady.
I made my way towards where I thought he’d bedded. When I got close, I sat down, glassed, moved one foot, glassed etc. The terrain had a ton of features but he was bedded facing the direction I was coming from and I wanted to make sure I saw him first. As I was sitting contemplating where he could be, I see antler tips move in front of a rock formation below me. Shortly thereafter, he feeds out, the rangerfinder said 60 yards but he is facing away from me. At this point, the wind is almost calm and I can hear every bite he takes. After feeding for a couple of minutes, he starts raking the bushes. I seize the opportunity and scoot out of sight of him, tip toe around a knoll to get a broadside angle. As I peak around the corner, he’s moved. I range all the openings and wait. Nothing. Minutes go by and I’m sure he hasn’t left the area as I’d have heard somethig. I start to suspect he is bedded again and sit down. All of a sudden antler tips pop up again and step by step, he feeds into an opening I had ranged, perfectly broadside. I draw, anchor, take my sweet time to settle in, split the 40/50 pins AND SEND THE ARROW WAY OVER HIS BACK.
I instantly knew my mistake, he was WAY closer than 45 as the bush he was in front of was at 37. While waiting, I’d mixed up the distances.. While he runs away, I’m deflated, this was easily the best shot opportunity I’ve had in my life, I could have ranged and re-ranged several times but “thought” I had the distance on lock. Anyway, he stops at 80 yards and looks back. I’m holding out my bow to cover my face and have another arrow nocked. Too far to shoot. But low and behold, he turns around and starts walking back the way he came from. As soon as I start thinking I’ll get another opportunity in the opening, he stops. He is standing still so long my bow arm starts shaking. I sneak my hand up, range him at 60, dial, draw back as he looks away and shoot again. I can’t see the hit but hear a loud twack. He runs downhill, disappears behind some trees, when I see him again, he is limping bad and wobbles a bit, it almost looks like he’ll tip over. I can see the what would have been the exit side but I can’t see any blood in the binoculars. As he moves out of sight, I listen for several minutes but can’t hear as much as a twig snap.
As I sneak back to my boots and pack, doubt of how good of a hit it was sets in, between the limp and the sound of the hit, my mind starts to wander. Around 3600 long seconds later (around 3pm), I make my way down to where he stood. I can clearly see his tracks and start looking for sign. A little drop 5 yards down the path he ran is followed by the broke off arrow. Based on the blood, I’d gotten about 15 inches of penetration which made me feel better.
The blood trail was fairly sparse but I take my time and continue to find leads. At times, I can walk and follow it, but more often than not, I end up circling the dark timber on hands and knees to find clues. Several times, I get really concerned only to find hope in the form of a speck of blood minutes later. It’s an emotional rollercoaster on repeat.
This would be an above average one.
Additionally, the clouds are getting darker and darker and fear of rain starts to set in, and with that came the stress. I had several hours of daylight left, but even a light rain would make a challenging blood trail really tough..
The trail takes me through some nasty terrain up to a bench where I find a bed. With views covering his backtrail, I’m fairly certain he’s seen me and moved off. What’s more concerning is the tiny amount of blood in the bed. Barely visible in the picture.
continued below..
