If you have ever listened to a group of hunters talk about their famous hunts or their, "This one time," stories, you've noticed that most of them begin with, "It was just getting dark..." or, "It just started to snow..." or, "It was just getting light out."
Mine didn't start out that way.
It was going to be a hunt that I almost quit as it not only began with a little bit of a late start but when I reached my stand, the strap to pull back my bowstring snapped and I had to run back out of the woods to get another strap. On my way back into the woods, the sun was already breaking and I spooked a deer. I thought I ruined my chances.
Once I finally settled in my treestand, two bucks about 80 yards out headed toward each other, one coming in from each side. They met each other and headed along my right side but they were too far for a shot.
Awhile later, a large doe came down from the slashings about 125 yards out and headed south up near the trail. I grunted but after she failed to respond, I bleated a few times and she came in. She sauntered in about 40 yards and I waited for her to take one more step out from beyond the trees. Suddenly she was spooked and took off back toward the slashings. I set my bow down and sighed.
Twenty minutes later a doe walked in my direction and stood within 30 yards of my stand. However, she was too small to shoot so I just watched her circle around for a while and let her pass.
I had seen four deer at this point, more in one day than I have seen any other day all season. I was sure that my luck was going to run out if it hadn't already.
Not more than 15 minutes later, a buck was headed toward my stand to the left. He came within 50 yards of my stand behind some trees and brush and then began to meander back up the slope to my rear left.
He was about 60 yards out when I grunted. He stopped in his tracks. He looked around and then started up the slope again. He reached 70 yards and I grunted again but he kept going. I grunted once more, now 80 yards out, and he stopped once again in his tracks. He circled back and ran from behind me to ahead of me on the left side.
I grunted. He moved closer.
I grunted. He moved closer, now 60 yards.
I grunted. He moved closer, now 40 yards.
I drew my bow and waited. There he was, 25 yards away directly facing me, staring me down as I pointed my bow at him. He snorted trying to get me to respond in some way. He stomped his foot thinking I would somehow move and he would discover my identity. We stared at each for what seemed an eternity. He turned broadside and I took my shot.
