2017's trip was nothing more than a teaser. I only sat in a tree a mere 20 minutes before double lunging a young 9 point, then spent the rest of the trip helping Dad fill his tag and scouting as much as possible. Dad was out for redemption after wounding a stud on the second afternoon and then settling for a smaller buck at the end of the trip.
A few minute ticks after 4 am we safely made it into camp, dropped the boat off beside my uncles tent(he'd setup the evening prior), and dad and I headed in to where he'd drop me off for my first hunt. Haphazardly gather gear, a fist bump and a "this is going to be a good trip", and I was off to my first setup and dad was headed for some sleep and then to finish setting up our part of camp.
Bowhunting is a finicky game. Most reading this probably already know of the emotional rollercoaster it will put you on. On October 30, 2017, we'd found ourselves in one of those low spots. Dad had shot a great buck at last light the evening before. One that he was sure was the best he'd ever drawn his bow on. He found good blood shortly after and backed off to leave it to morning. 30 yard shot, slightly quartering away, good blood with no reason to rush, everything was seemingly perfect..... until it wasn't. Eight hours after taking up the trail we found ourselves right at 1000 yards away from the shot and the blood trail seemingly gone. A grid search that would be fruitless ensued.
What that grid search did however, was open our mind to how the deer use this foreign terrain. In a sea of marsh, corn, and milo, they related to what few trees were scattered among them. Two big, gnarly oak trees kept grabbing my attention. I knew I wanted to hunt them but could not figure out how to get in them due to limbs.
With 7 days to hunt this year and nearly 4 full days of scouting in 2017, I was more than prepared for what lie ahead. 13 setups between 2 pieces of public made the cut for possible all day sits. I was ready for the grind and embraced it.
A couple days prior to the trip, with the wind and weather not forecasted to cooperate for the first three days, I dug into the bottom rankings of the 13 setups I'd listed. One of them was the aforementioned two oak trees. Text dad a screenshot of the spot, "Remember how hot this was? Am I crazy to hunt this on morning 1?" I got a "I don't know how you'll hunt it but if you can, it may work" text back. Text it to a buddy.... "Go for it". It was finalized. Those two trees were going to somehow be my first hunt.
I arrived at the two trees and slowly started scanning them with a light trying to pick out a spot that I could get a little elevation in. Nothing looked good, so 3 sticks up the first to evaluate... not even the slightest chance for a shot. Move everything to the second, 3 sticks up... same story. Once back down, I settled on fixing my Jim stepps for my platform at about 5 feet, climbed up and tethered my saddle in and hoped for a 2 hour nap waiting on daylight. But there was no chance of that... The duck hunting circus of opening day had begun, I ended up with groups about 300 yards away on two sides and one about 500 yards away on the other side. 5 foot up a tree and surrounded by shotguns, this was a bad idea, atleast this isn't a flash trip.
A full 45 minutes before daylight I heard the march of a buck heading straight to me. He came to the first tree I tried to get up in. Worked the licking branch not 5 yards from me for what seemed like 5 minutes, then marched out through the marsh. The moon hit his antlers as he was going away and he looked to be a stud.
Pic of the where he was:
Before shooting light I would hear a buck grunting and chasing a doe out through the marsh. Daylight revealed a 4 point dogging a doe and fawn on the other side of where I'd heard the chasing. Next, two grown does made my way through my setup, a 6 point down one of the cut corn lanes, and two fawns down another.
At 8:30 I heard deer crashing my way with grunting. Bow off the hook, turned toward where they should appear. Doe was in the lead of course, and then bam... stud. The bow was drawn as he passed my last cover, grunted at him as he got to about 8 yards, he semi-paused and the arrow was on its way.
Off impact, the buck made about a 80 yard loop and then disappeared in the crp. The shot didn't look good at all, but I was 99.9% sure the buck was down. Still I sat in my saddle for some hour and fifteen minutes trying to keep myself from throwing up and juggling that with whispering what had happened on the phone to my dad, brother, and a buddy.
First blood was encouraging:
Every step made it seem more and more like the deer would be dead where I last saw him. Still I stalked my way to that spot, but it would prove unnecessary.
The buck died in a very impressive bed. A big circle that was probably 10 foot in diameter. Dad had actually jumped a really good buck very close to this while grid searching for his deer last year. Makes you think
Without this deer shrinking a whole lot, he'll be my first P&Y. 20 years of trying.
Brow tine stuck in his nose:
Time to get it done here at home now. Can't wait for December!
