Entertainment was scheduled for Thursday night but were the performers going to show up? That is always a question. We were on the edge of a cold front a forecasted 20 degree drop in temperature. The drop would take it from a very comfortable high 40’s to high teens or low twenties. It was just too early to start a temperature number with a 2 or a 1. I hope the deer in the area agreed and would be showing up on the food plot to entertain us this evening. It was a beautiful night. Four players arrived on cue three young bucks and a mature doe. All performed as expected checking scrapes browsing and moving in and out of my shooting lanes. It was what I had hoped a dress rehearsal. Although the star or stars of the show had yet to arrive. There were many stars that sent me pictures the trail cameras strategically placed on the food plot. It appeared all had snubbed my invitation for dinner. Theirs then hopefully mine. A suitable swap I thought, clover and corn for venison. I would go starless and hungry this Thursday evening.
While watching the show as the deer entered and exited the shooting lanes I noticed a branch that hung down and blocked a shooting lane. It was an issue. The main stage should not have obstructed view seating. This was not the cheap seats it was a high-priced ladder stand front and center. It reminded me of an unruly Miami Hurricane fan that refused to sit down in front of my wife and children during an Orange Bowl game. He thought it perfectly ok to stand up during the entire game in front of women and children.
This like the unruly, obnoxious and insufferable young man were going to have to be dealt with. He thought he was going to stand the entire game. That problem was solved quickly without violence. Just a few loud well thought out words and some agreeable guests sitting close to us that favored seeing the Badgers destroy the Hurricanes and not the back of this young Hurricane fan. I am thankful for their support. However, being thankful for an orange bowl entourage and the positive result and removing this branch from my shooting window is entirely different. This will require physical action. No talking or yelling this stick out of my way.
Fortunately, I had foreseen the possibility and packed a trimmer in my back pack. The big pincher kind. The kind you would see the mob using to trim off a pinky if they needed some information.
Alex was in a stand just south mine on another plot and was seeing deer as well. Fun night. It is good to hunt with him during the week. The first time in 5 years now that he is out of college and full time employed squeezing in hunts between work hours. Ha! Now he knows how hard it is to balance everything.
A spike buck walked at the foot of my high-priced stand. Headed straight to the food plot, didn’t look at a single scrape. Too young to look for fun I guess. Stomach before other parts of his anatomy, I am guessing that will change next year.
The sun disappeared behind the still leaf holding oaks on the west ridge and dusk fell quietly on the plot. A quick text to Alex to let him know I was getting down. He was doing the same.
Back on solid ground. I grabbed the trimmer and headed to the branch that was causing me some visual complications. I had my bow in hand and jumped to reach the branch and missed the small twig that was my target. That small twig was my ticket to pull the branch down so I could grab it and let my “pinky” cutting trimmer do its work. I am blaming the additional weight of a very light bow to my vertical jump inadequacy. I landed hard on my feet sending a little jolt through my body and the bow. A clean miss. I was pretty happy Alex wasn’t here to witness the less than adequate vertical effort I thought.
I dropped the bow and positioned myself for a vertical explosion. Success! I grabbed the branch and pulled it down and bent down to grab the trimmer. I know it sounds like I just gorilla dunked a basketball, believe me I felt like I just did. But in reality, it was more like jumping to get a rebound after it already went through the net. Not very high and not much talent required.
The small twig broke off as I adjusted my grip and secured the branch while reaching the trimmer. I was fairly pleased with my quick multi -tasking adjusting my grip with one hand and grabbing the trimmer with the other.
The branch was pulled down to easily get at the desired cutting point. Again, showing magnificent athletic ability. I one handed he trimmer in to position for the big cut. Should be an easy trim and I will on my way to meet Alex at the truck and we can talk about what we witnessed.
I pulled one arm of the trimmer with one hand and pushed the other arm with my shoulder as I held the branch to keep it all with in reach. All going well, the blades cut deep into the branch and snap. Not the snap of a branch being severed but a snap I would learn to be metal breaking. The trimmer was stuck three quarters of the way through the limb. The trimmer holding firmly on the limb I was able to get both hands on the trimmer. No luck on the first attempt to finish the cut. I will have to open the jaws and start over.
The trimmer would not open. A part had broken on the trimmer it was not going to open. The only way to finish the cutting was to get all the way through the branch. I squeezed hard and the trimmer slipped from my hands. The branch and trimmer bolted to the heavens. It is getting extremely dark now, but not dark enough to hide the embarrassment of the trimmer hanging on the branch like a Christmas ornament. Coyotes started to howl and the owls began to hoot. Some music to work by. The show was now turning into a musical comedy.
I was now extremely happy Alex was not there to witness this, but not happy in the sense I could have used his help getting the trimmer that was now again going to test my vertical jumping ability again.
A couple of jumps later I managed to get the trimmer. Oh my, what a sight this had to be. Was I now returning the favor of a comedy show to the four deer that performed for me earlier?
Darker still. I grabbed my head-light out of my back pack while holding onto the branch. Why didn’t I think of it before I successfully grabbed the branch. I wondered. I don’t know. Probably because I didn’t think I was going to have the success getting actually reaching the trimmer I answered to myself.
I bent the limb opening up the cut and the trimmer fell to the earth. I bent the branch down and tried to break it off. No luck.
I had made a mess of my shooting lane. Why didn’t I leave the shooting lane as is? I was second guessing my choice to try and make things better.
I had tried to open my shooting lane up and left my scent all over the place. I grabbed my knife from the back pack and cut through the remainder of the branch. Success! A two-minute task that took at least 10 times that. Oh well. Lane opened.
Rain coming with the cold front will clean up the scent I hoped. I planned on being in the same stand in the morning before work.
It was the only stand I could get to and make my first work appointment on time. It would be ok I hoped. I am second guessing my choice of trying to open the up the shooting lane but now it was perfect.
I met Alex back at the truck.
He didn’t even ask what took so long. Good thing I wasn’t hurt laying in a heap of blubber and bones at the foot of my ladder stand. But I wasn’t going to go there. The embarrassing removal of the branch is going to be my secret until he reads it.
Alex asked if I was going to go out in the morning. I said I planned to. “You should” he said. “They are on their feet already and should be moving well in the morning.” He said “I can’t come with because I have to work.”I hid a little smile when I heard that. It was good to have him working and good that he made solid decisions. It was also good to see he was starting to figure out how hard it was to balance hunting and work.
Friday morning came and true to the forecast it was colder. Actually, it was very cold. 33 degrees for mid-October is too cold too early for me. At least it wasn’t in the teens or twenties. Everything was set out and ready as I took a quick inventory of what was in the truck.
A bolt of slight panic ripped through my stomach. Not the excited nervousness of “butterflies” before a game but the little dash of pain that must happen when adrenalin enters your system as you fumble a football and need to scramble to recover it.
I saw the broadheads in my quiver were expanded. It must have been the earthquake as I hit the ground the violent landing pushed them open when I was trying to catch the branch with bow in hand. All but one in my quiver was open. It was a different color but that was ok. One was all I needed. I was off.
A smooth trip to the parking spot out of the truck and to the stand. I left the broken “pinky” trimmer home. One less thing to haul and I didn’t want to be reminded of the sitcom like production of last evening.
Alex and I have shared a lot of the trail camera pictures and made a hit list and a pass list. We each had a different list. He has had more success than I. I suspect the lower end of my list did not match his. We accept and embrace that. We are each the decision maker of our own tag, we believe all hunters should be. One man’s pass is another man’s trophy. It is more about the experience than the trophy itself. My list of “stars” was set for the season.
There was definite genetics in the area and many of the bucks looked similar. We took joy in seeing the different bucks age and grow year to year.
I was comfortably set in my high- priced ladder stand. The woods were quiet and the sun had yet to crest the bluffs to the east but still gave sufficient light to witness my gardening work. Perfectly clear shot at all the points I needed. I sat back in my chair and smiled. Today’s deer season was now open just like my shooting lane.
Just minutes after the smile left my face a brown body with a nice white rack was tracing my steps into the plot. Big deer. Nice rack. Better than the deer performing for me last night. Much better. Was he one of my “stars”? He showed me his right rack with a long G2. He was on my list. Not high up on the list but on it. I pulled my bow into position, watched him as he gave me a standing broadside look at him. I moved my sight into position and he took a hard left showing me nothing but tail. I was disappointed. I wasn’t sure I wanted to take a shot but now that I didn’t have one I wanted it. I kept my sight on him and he gave me a nice quartering away shot. He stood still and click, whish, thud. I heard the arrow hit something solid and the deer bolted off behind the lone oak tree in the plot.
I grabbed my phone and texted Al who was on his way to work and told him I had just shot at a nice buck. He asked if I hit it. Why would he ask such a thing? Ok I know why, let’s not go there that is a whole other story. Refer to previous story of the “Big Miss”. I said I think so, I heard solid thud. But I didn’t hear a crash or see it fall. He asked “Should I call in to work and see if I can get off to help. He answered his own question and said I really can’t Dad, I have commitments today.” I said I understood. It would be fun to look for it together but adulting requires sacrifices. I was still in the stand waiting giving the deer time and its was starting to rain.
It was raining on Alex as well as he drove to work and he called to see if it was raining on me as well. He suggested I get down and check for blood and mark some spots in case it starts to wash away.
I was down in a flash looking for my arrow and blood. I found neither at first glance but I saw some blood cupped in an oak leaf. Not a lot but more than a little. He called and asked for details. I shared and also shared I didn’t have the arrow. I second guessed if I hit the deer hard or shouldered him. He was hit for sure, he took the arrow with him as a souvenir.
Alex called again asking for details after the report he asked “What should I do? I want to help and it is raining and you are going to lose the trail. But I have to work.” I said “Go to work I will get after it in 30 minutes.” He said he would call his friend Clay and he could help.
Thirty minutes later walking swiftly onto the plot with a big smile on his face a 6-foot three-inch three blonde college basketball player was on the food plot with a big smile and a look of anticipation on his face. “Way to go!” he said. “Where did you hit him? Let’s get started.”
In thirty minutes of waiting I hadn’t found a single spec of blood on the plot. I was second guessing everything. Why was there so little blood? Why was the only broadhead not sprung open a different color? I was second guessing was it a target tip? Oh no! Had I really messed this up. Did I hurt this animal with a broad head target tip? My mind was racing. I shared information with Clay that I did not hear a crash and that from the stand I could not see the exit point from the food plot.
The woods were quiet, with pines on two sides leaving abed of noise silencing needles on the ground. The ridge that led down to the swamp was the other exit. We split up looking for blood around edge of the plot. I took a wide half circle covering the last tall grass before reaching the pines hoping to find something. Nothing. The roller coaster ride was in full swing. Excitement, disappointment, doubt, and urgency it was starting to rain a little harder a solid mist.
I walked back to the plot and was going back to the last speck of blood near the impact point. I heard Clay yell “I found blood”. He had already started over and army crawled inch by inch over the plot from the original blood find. A speck here a speck there. It was something. The deer had headed to the ridge. I did not hear a crash so I informed Clay of a that. I told him expect a long trail if he fell in this stuff it was close enough I would have heard it. He said that is ok I found some hair as well. White hair you might have hit him low. Low I thought, not good, low like my optimism at this point, low like the likely hood we would recover a deer hit with a target tip.
Still speck by speck, he crested the ridge and headed down the hill to the swamp. Did I mention it was a steep hill and that the river and swamp was at a near flood levels? Back on the roller coaster this was a dip in the track and thought I would share with Clay some of my concerns and second guesses.
“Clay” I said” I think I might have hit him in the shoulder although he was quartering away. Clay said the arrow might have hit the far shoulder low and stuck.” Nice kid, an optimist. I thought. “I am worried I might have used the arrow with my target tip on it.” I said. I thought that should shake his optimism. Clay didn’t answer right away, that one I think shook him a little. Before he could answer he said look here. Good blood, bright red. on the ground and on the tree. He is heading down hill right past one of Alex’s stand. Alex has taken some wall hangers from that stand. Just past his stand the blood trail drifted off again had become speck to speck and worse yet he entered the swamp.
Cold water was near my boot tops and Clay had non-waterproof work boots. That didn’t stop Clay. He led the way into the swamp speck by speck. The roller coaster ride was in full speed nothing consistent on the blood trail the only thing that was consistent was the texts from Alex begging for info. I was glad he didn’t see Clays face when I told him I might have used a target tip. I was embarrassed and worried.
The last 24 hours of less than spectacular actions. I was happy he didn’t witness.
The buck headed straight across the grass of a swamp, not cattails but overgrown abandoned field that was growing tall grass and been flooded with the high water. We lost the trail a few times and picked it up when we saw a pink pool of water. That was a first. A speck of blood on a blade of grass and a pool of pink stagnant water. We reached the end of the field and were out of the swamp to solid ground. We were on a high spot of land but now faced deeper water covered in green algae. No blood now what? The green scum floating on the deep water was all in place if the buck swam the deep water to the other side we would see the algae disturbed. That left only one option. Go to the right and look. Nothing. Then Clay said here is a speck and a little more. Good blood he must have stood here awhile. It was an odd place to stand. What would I have done by myself? Clay keeps coming up big. I could hear Clay walk in front of me squish, squish. Not the sound of the soft ground in front of me but the sound of ice-cold swamp water in work boots.
That was the last bit of blood we would see. The last of the blood trail. It was raining again and I had hit a new low on the roller coaster. Although our last blood was extremely good. The trail opened to a 200-acre woods with no clear logical direction to look.
Time for the panic circle at least with all the water we only had a partial circle to cover.
Clay took three steps I could again hear the water sloshing in his boots as he stepped forward finally on solid ground. Then he yelled Mark. There is your deer! He is good one! I can see his rack sticking up out of the weeds.
Back on top of the roller coaster. He was pretty good. Not my biggest but I was now very happy.
I looked at Clay and said “Let’s look at the arrow and see how dumb I was.” The arrow was sticking out of the exit wound of the deer. Piercing one lung the exit wound was low behind the back shoulder. The tip of the arrow sticking out.
It was an expanded broadhead. I was relieved.
However, I now second-guessed sharing and worrying Clay about it.
That arrow had left the quiver and was not getting back in.
Thank You Clay and Alex. I can only say “TAGGED OUT” because of your help.