Ben Long
Well-known member
This was one of those seasons when Real Life gets in the way of hunting season. Two deaths on my wife's side of the family and a sick kid meant that I only hunted in dribs and drabs. The good news is I have permission to hunt a ranch only 10 minutes from the house. I had some good bucks come in to rattles, but no chance for shots. So I was in the "any meat" mode on the last weekend of the season.
As I still-hunted at 10 a.m. Saturday, I saw a deer eyeballing me about 100 yards away. Too far for off hand, so I took a knee and aimed at the brisket. The buck was facing me. Not a layup, but usually the kind of shot that either collapses the deer or misses clean.
I lost the sight picture under the recoil, but saw two deer flagging for the south border of the property. So I beat it their way to look for sign of a hit.
My son's nurse's shift was up at noon, so my mind was on the clock. There was no snow or tracks, just pine grass and ponderosa needles. I searched somewhat systematically where I saw the deer go. After an hour of no sign, I was about to give it up for a miss. But the idea of leaving a dead or wounded deer on my friend's ranch made me return and try to recreate the shot. I went a bit further than where I thought the deer had been and -- bingo -- the buck was down in a heap. His heart was mangled but he bled not a drop outside.
As I still-hunted at 10 a.m. Saturday, I saw a deer eyeballing me about 100 yards away. Too far for off hand, so I took a knee and aimed at the brisket. The buck was facing me. Not a layup, but usually the kind of shot that either collapses the deer or misses clean.
I lost the sight picture under the recoil, but saw two deer flagging for the south border of the property. So I beat it their way to look for sign of a hit.
My son's nurse's shift was up at noon, so my mind was on the clock. There was no snow or tracks, just pine grass and ponderosa needles. I searched somewhat systematically where I saw the deer go. After an hour of no sign, I was about to give it up for a miss. But the idea of leaving a dead or wounded deer on my friend's ranch made me return and try to recreate the shot. I went a bit further than where I thought the deer had been and -- bingo -- the buck was down in a heap. His heart was mangled but he bled not a drop outside.
