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November 11, 1982. The weather was warm for November. Few leaves were left on the trees and the the mild breeze was in my face as I overlooked a small creek from my perch. The bank of the creek was well worn with years worth of deer tracks. My seat was crude. I had wedged a block of wood into the crook of an old tree and my butt was paying the price. When I stood I had to balance my feet on the small limb below. There I sat waiting.
In my hand was a Bear Whitetail bow. It's hard to say that name today without preceeding it with the word "old" but in it's day the Bear Whitetail was the top of the line compound bow.
I could here the deer coming. The unmistakable crunch of leaves, the slight pauses. Closer. Louder. Appearing out of the brush was a small 6 point. He meandered around just out of range as he nibbled on brush and leaves. I held my bow hoping for a few steps my direction. I had never shot a deer before and the small buck was no doubt a trophy.
I was well trained. The hay bales in the backyard were well worn with use. My sight pins were painted with bright orange paint and my bow was painted with the same paint used on military vehicles. A favor from a buddy I served with. I wore a red flannel shirt, black jeans and tennis shoes.
I don't remember being nervous. I think it was because I didn't know what to expect. The buck walked back into the woods out of sight and left me once again waiting. A few minutes later as darkness approached I once again heard the steps getting louder.
It was dark and a little difficult to see. I knew my shot was open. The deer stood broadside as I raised my bow and held the third orange pin behind the shoulder. I released when I felt the pin was in the right spot. I never saw my arrow but did see the deer run off. I immediately climbed down from my perch, crossed the creek and looked for my arrow. Instead I found a spot of blood on a leaf. I packed up and left.
My father in law was a deer hunter and I figured he had been through this before so I drove to his home. We grabbed a couple flashlights and headed back to my perch beside the creek. It didn't take long to find the buck. A perfect heart shot left plenty of sign. It was not the buck I had originally seen.
The joy I witnessed that day from my father in law I would witness again as he helped my oldest son find his first deer. I saw this joy again just last week as he helped find my youngest sons first bow kill. He can barely walk now but we call him with every deer we shoot. Despite our excited anticipation to find a deer we walk very slowly so my father in law can keep up. It just wouldn't be right if we didn't hear "It's a dandy!" when we found a deer.
My first buck was a 9pt. I never weighed it but it was big. His mount has hung in my college dorm, my first apartment and my first house. Today he hangs in my family room. He is not my biggest deer but no doubt my most memorable.
Buckhunter, great story. My first archery buck was only about 10 years ago. He was a yearling spike, a deer i'd certainly pass up today. I thought about passing him that day, but there were 3 spikes below me with 8 or 9 does, and i was getting antzy to shoot something. I knew there were larger bucks in the area, and they might come in as it got closer to dark, but my impatience got the better of me. I had only been bowhunting for a year or two and wanted to get one under my belt. I found him about 30 yds from the spot i shot him. He was not a big buck but i was proud. My little brother came out to help me find him, though that wasn't nessecary. Bowhunting has since taught me great patience and to be more selective, among other things. I thought i was a good hunter before that, but i was wrong. Bowhunting has made me a decent hunter.
I got my first deer with a bow this year; I am 15. I was hunting over my food plot in Farwell, MI. I left my house to go out to my stand about a mile from my house at about 4:30 P.M. I was walking there after I got out of school, and it looked like it was going to be a really nice night to bow hunt.
There was little wind and it was partly cloudy about 55 dagrees. I got up in my stand at about 5:00 and sprayed a little bit of premos silver scent eliminator with earthblend to make sure i was sent free after i washed my clothes. After about half our I was still waiting and i decided just to try a little bit of calling with my new M.A.D. snort wheze.
As I was sitting up in my tree stand and I was pretty confident in seeing deer because I had already passed a 3 point the first night. Then at around 6:00 I decided to grunt some more, and that's when it happend; i looked over to my left about sixty yards and here came a nice 6 point. He was walking right to my food plot it took five minutes and he was in my food plot eating some Winter Greens in bow range. When his head was down eating i stood up and grabbed my bow. When i was about to pull back he spooked from something and was perfectley broadside at 20 yards.
Then I let the arrow fly with a G5 montec broadhead on the tip and it nailed him. I got down in about five minutes and started tracking him. After following a pretty good blood trail i found him about 60 yards from my stand dead right on a ATV trail; I couldn't believe it. When i gutted I found out the the arrow had got a lung and hit right in the vitals. That was my first deer ever with a bow.
About my first deer ever with a bow:
Well, first I'll start with the stand location... I chose to put the stand on a logging road-type trail that we made a few years back with a bulldozer. From my preseason scouting (and a tip from my old neighbor who owns and hunts the land next door,) I was able to figure out that the deer (especially bucks) tended to walk along the ridge top that the part of the trail I was hunting was on. The deer mostly used that trail in the morning when they are going out to feed in the fields half a mile away across the road. They would approach my stand sight from the north (upwind) and cross over onto another trail that led westward into the corn fields and the river bottoms about a mile away. When they got there, they would brows and then bed down in the thickets for a midday nap.
October 11, '09:
I woke up at about 4:45 to take a scent-killing bath, eat breakfast, and get dressed. I headed out to the barn in just my long underwear to get my Summit Bushmaster climbing treestand. I noticed the weather was a lot colder than it had been for the past few days (a cold front of about 35 degrees had moved in, ) which made it an even better day to hunt. I then headed out to my stand with my dad as a "decoy." We got to my stand sight at about 5:30-ish. Once I was 20 feet up in a medium-sized hickory tree and settled in, my dad went back to the house to make the deer think that the danger had gone. I noked an arrow tipped with G5 Montec broadheads onto my 2009 Diamond The Rock bow, clipped my Scott “Little Goose” release to the string loop, and was finally fully ready.
As the sun begin to rise, I got out the rangefinder and started ranging different trees, stumps, etc to know how far a deer would be standing next to them. About halfway through this process, I heard the crunch of leaves behind me, but by the speed and pattern I could tell it wasn't a deer. I looked and saw a coyote trotting along behind my stand. I really wanted to shoot it because they had been howling a lot and threatening out livestock a lot lately. I was unable to draw my bow and shoot it, because my release had gotten tangled with the rangefinder and the coyote was just going to fast. Then it went over the hill and was gone.
About an hour later (8:30) I just happened to look up and see a thick, white branch moving side to side. Or at least I thought it was a branch. Then I realized it was a friggin HUGE buck standing in the middle of the trail about 60 yards away! I instantly started breathing heavy and telling myself I was seeing things. As the buck started walking, I knew for sure he was real. He would walk a few steps, lick his privates and lip curle, then walk a few more steps. He did this for about 30 yards and the went behind a brush pile. I couldn't tell for sure, but I think he was making a scrape when he was hidden. Finally, he started walking toward the cross-trail to the field for some still unharvested corn, and I knew now was the time. I stood up and drew my bow when he was on the other side of a huge beach tree. Once he was clear of all obstacles and next to a tree I had ranged at 27 yards away, I settled my 25 pin on him and said "doe-bleated" to get him to stop. My brain almost exploded when he looked right at me. I then did one of the most inhumane things ever, and I shot when I was not ready! I knew the pin was not quite in the right place, but I was so eager to get rid of that arrow that I just let it go! My mind worked in S L O W M O T I O N for the next second or sow as I watched the arrow fly toward him and hit WAY too far forward. “Oh CRAP!” I said to myself as I determined I had just shot him in the shoulder. I then watched as he took a few leaps and jumped halfway down the side of the hill and sprinted full out for the thickets between the corn fields.
It all took about a minute to register and then I snapped into action. I quickly grabbed my walkie-talkie and called my dad. "Dad, I seriously just shot a really huge buck! I think the hit was too far forward, and I need you to get out here and help me follow the blood trail." Then I climbed down the tree and stuffed my gear into my backpack. I ran over to where the buck had been standing, looked for blood, saw none and got back to the stand. When my dad got there, we looked around for the blood trail. I eventually found some blood about 15 yards from where I shot him. For the next 80 or so yards, we kept on finding good-sized drops of blood. He seemed to be going right for the bedding area on the close side of the field, when suddenly the trail just seemed to end and we couldn't find any more blood. That's when I got the idea to go get Luger (she's my 4 month old German Shepherd pup.) I figured she would have no trouble following the buck's tracks. I ran 800 yards to the house, ditched my pack, took my coat off and switched it for a jacket, and got Luger.
We ran back to where we left my dad with the end of the blood trail. I took her to about the middle of the trail and led her in the direction the buck had gone until she seemed to catch on. . She followed it as far as the road, but try as she did, the poor girl just couldn't follow it from there. We crossed the road, but still couldn't find any blood. I reasoned that if I could find just one drop of blood, my dog could follow it from there. Well it took about 100 yards of walking where I THOUGHT the deer had gone before I found any more blood. This time the drops were huge and close together. The spots of blood were getting a lot bigger and I saw huge clotted drops all over the corn stalks and dead grass. Then my dad suddenly yelled "There he is!" and I almost wet myself. He had ran about 250 yards total through lots of rough terrain, but dropped right below a metal power-line tower on an access road to the fields. We approached him from behind, just like your supposed to and I was absolutely amazed by what I saw. He (the buck) was the biggest 8-pointer I had ever seen and his antlers were even bigger than my previous 10-pointer's had been. We realized that I had hit him in the neck, not the chest! I guess I just got really lucky because the arrow severed his trachea and both his jugular veins. I lifted his head and ran my hands up and down the rack. He had 8 gnarly tines with a slightly palmated left main beam. My dad then took Luger back to the house as I stayed with the deer. While I was waiting, I thanked God for the extreme luck and for the bountiful harvest.
When Dad came back in the truck, we took pictures and field-dressed the deer. We loaded him into the back of my dad's truck and drove him back to the house and sprayed him down with cool water from the garden hose to keep him from spoiling. Hours later, I weighed him at 205 pounds field dressed! His rack was 21 inches wide on the outside and 18.5 on the inside. his tallest tine was 10.5" and his main beams were slightly "palmated." When it was all said and done, I learned that I should NEVER take a shot on an animal until I am ABSOLUTELY ready. I got really lucky on this hunt, because the buck just ran and bled out before we could loose him. From now on, I will wait until I am absolutely sure before shooting again.
The first deer i shot with a bow,wow that was 28 wonderful seasons ago,i was 12 my first year,how time flies.My dad took me hunting about 2 miles from our home at the base of the mountain,it was a evening hunt after school.I was sitting in my treestand an old baker climber by 4pm with my dad in his about 60 yards away.45 minutes before dark 2 does wondered into my bowrange ,i was very excited and pulled the shot,but hit her in the neck,she ran down to my dad and fell over.I whistled for him to come but he already new what had happened.He tought me to track a bloodtrail that night even though he knew where the deer was,it was his way of being dad,he must have been proud that night cause we stopped at several of his friends houses on our way home to show it off.He mounted the tail and the broken arrow for me and it still hangs on the wall in his den.That deer means as much to me as any of the bucks i have takin since.
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November 11, 1982. The weather was warm for November. Few leaves were left on the trees and the the mild breeze was in my face as I overlooked a small creek from my perch. The bank of the creek was well worn with years worth of deer tracks. My seat was crude. I had wedged a block of wood into the crook of an old tree and my butt was paying the price. When I stood I had to balance my feet on the small limb below. There I sat waiting.
In my hand was a Bear Whitetail bow. It's hard to say that name today without preceeding it with the word "old" but in it's day the Bear Whitetail was the top of the line compound bow.
I could here the deer coming. The unmistakable crunch of leaves, the slight pauses. Closer. Louder. Appearing out of the brush was a small 6 point. He meandered around just out of range as he nibbled on brush and leaves. I held my bow hoping for a few steps my direction. I had never shot a deer before and the small buck was no doubt a trophy.
I was well trained. The hay bales in the backyard were well worn with use. My sight pins were painted with bright orange paint and my bow was painted with the same paint used on military vehicles. A favor from a buddy I served with. I wore a red flannel shirt, black jeans and tennis shoes.
I don't remember being nervous. I think it was because I didn't know what to expect. The buck walked back into the woods out of sight and left me once again waiting. A few minutes later as darkness approached I once again heard the steps getting louder.
It was dark and a little difficult to see. I knew my shot was open. The deer stood broadside as I raised my bow and held the third orange pin behind the shoulder. I released when I felt the pin was in the right spot. I never saw my arrow but did see the deer run off. I immediately climbed down from my perch, crossed the creek and looked for my arrow. Instead I found a spot of blood on a leaf. I packed up and left.
My father in law was a deer hunter and I figured he had been through this before so I drove to his home. We grabbed a couple flashlights and headed back to my perch beside the creek. It didn't take long to find the buck. A perfect heart shot left plenty of sign. It was not the buck I had originally seen.
The joy I witnessed that day from my father in law I would witness again as he helped my oldest son find his first deer. I saw this joy again just last week as he helped find my youngest sons first bow kill. He can barely walk now but we call him with every deer we shoot. Despite our excited anticipation to find a deer we walk very slowly so my father in law can keep up. It just wouldn't be right if we didn't hear "It's a dandy!" when we found a deer.
My first buck was a 9pt. I never weighed it but it was big. His mount has hung in my college dorm, my first apartment and my first house. Today he hangs in my family room. He is not my biggest deer but no doubt my most memorable.
I got my first deer with a bow this year; I am 15. I was hunting over my food plot in Farwell, MI. I left my house to go out to my stand about a mile from my house at about 4:30 P.M. I was walking there after I got out of school, and it looked like it was going to be a really nice night to bow hunt.
There was little wind and it was partly cloudy about 55 dagrees. I got up in my stand at about 5:00 and sprayed a little bit of premos silver scent eliminator with earthblend to make sure i was sent free after i washed my clothes. After about half our I was still waiting and i decided just to try a little bit of calling with my new M.A.D. snort wheze.
As I was sitting up in my tree stand and I was pretty confident in seeing deer because I had already passed a 3 point the first night. Then at around 6:00 I decided to grunt some more, and that's when it happend; i looked over to my left about sixty yards and here came a nice 6 point. He was walking right to my food plot it took five minutes and he was in my food plot eating some Winter Greens in bow range. When his head was down eating i stood up and grabbed my bow. When i was about to pull back he spooked from something and was perfectley broadside at 20 yards.
Then I let the arrow fly with a G5 montec broadhead on the tip and it nailed him. I got down in about five minutes and started tracking him. After following a pretty good blood trail i found him about 60 yards from my stand dead right on a ATV trail; I couldn't believe it. When i gutted I found out the the arrow had got a lung and hit right in the vitals. That was my first deer ever with a bow.
Buckhunter, great story. My first archery buck was only about 10 years ago. He was a yearling spike, a deer i'd certainly pass up today. I thought about passing him that day, but there were 3 spikes below me with 8 or 9 does, and i was getting antzy to shoot something. I knew there were larger bucks in the area, and they might come in as it got closer to dark, but my impatience got the better of me. I had only been bowhunting for a year or two and wanted to get one under my belt. I found him about 30 yds from the spot i shot him. He was not a big buck but i was proud. My little brother came out to help me find him, though that wasn't nessecary. Bowhunting has since taught me great patience and to be more selective, among other things. I thought i was a good hunter before that, but i was wrong. Bowhunting has made me a decent hunter.
About my first deer ever with a bow:
Well, first I'll start with the stand location... I chose to put the stand on a logging road-type trail that we made a few years back with a bulldozer. From my preseason scouting (and a tip from my old neighbor who owns and hunts the land next door,) I was able to figure out that the deer (especially bucks) tended to walk along the ridge top that the part of the trail I was hunting was on. The deer mostly used that trail in the morning when they are going out to feed in the fields half a mile away across the road. They would approach my stand sight from the north (upwind) and cross over onto another trail that led westward into the corn fields and the river bottoms about a mile away. When they got there, they would brows and then bed down in the thickets for a midday nap.
October 11, '09:
I woke up at about 4:45 to take a scent-killing bath, eat breakfast, and get dressed. I headed out to the barn in just my long underwear to get my Summit Bushmaster climbing treestand. I noticed the weather was a lot colder than it had been for the past few days (a cold front of about 35 degrees had moved in, ) which made it an even better day to hunt. I then headed out to my stand with my dad as a "decoy." We got to my stand sight at about 5:30-ish. Once I was 20 feet up in a medium-sized hickory tree and settled in, my dad went back to the house to make the deer think that the danger had gone. I noked an arrow tipped with G5 Montec broadheads onto my 2009 Diamond The Rock bow, clipped my Scott “Little Goose” release to the string loop, and was finally fully ready.
As the sun begin to rise, I got out the rangefinder and started ranging different trees, stumps, etc to know how far a deer would be standing next to them. About halfway through this process, I heard the crunch of leaves behind me, but by the speed and pattern I could tell it wasn't a deer. I looked and saw a coyote trotting along behind my stand. I really wanted to shoot it because they had been howling a lot and threatening out livestock a lot lately. I was unable to draw my bow and shoot it, because my release had gotten tangled with the rangefinder and the coyote was just going to fast. Then it went over the hill and was gone.
About an hour later (8:30) I just happened to look up and see a thick, white branch moving side to side. Or at least I thought it was a branch. Then I realized it was a friggin HUGE buck standing in the middle of the trail about 60 yards away! I instantly started breathing heavy and telling myself I was seeing things. As the buck started walking, I knew for sure he was real. He would walk a few steps, lick his privates and lip curle, then walk a few more steps. He did this for about 30 yards and the went behind a brush pile. I couldn't tell for sure, but I think he was making a scrape when he was hidden. Finally, he started walking toward the cross-trail to the field for some still unharvested corn, and I knew now was the time. I stood up and drew my bow when he was on the other side of a huge beach tree. Once he was clear of all obstacles and next to a tree I had ranged at 27 yards away, I settled my 25 pin on him and said "doe-bleated" to get him to stop. My brain almost exploded when he looked right at me. I then did one of the most inhumane things ever, and I shot when I was not ready! I knew the pin was not quite in the right place, but I was so eager to get rid of that arrow that I just let it go! My mind worked in S L O W M O T I O N for the next second or sow as I watched the arrow fly toward him and hit WAY too far forward. “Oh CRAP!” I said to myself as I determined I had just shot him in the shoulder. I then watched as he took a few leaps and jumped halfway down the side of the hill and sprinted full out for the thickets between the corn fields.
It all took about a minute to register and then I snapped into action. I quickly grabbed my walkie-talkie and called my dad. "Dad, I seriously just shot a really huge buck! I think the hit was too far forward, and I need you to get out here and help me follow the blood trail." Then I climbed down the tree and stuffed my gear into my backpack. I ran over to where the buck had been standing, looked for blood, saw none and got back to the stand. When my dad got there, we looked around for the blood trail. I eventually found some blood about 15 yards from where I shot him. For the next 80 or so yards, we kept on finding good-sized drops of blood. He seemed to be going right for the bedding area on the close side of the field, when suddenly the trail just seemed to end and we couldn't find any more blood. That's when I got the idea to go get Luger (she's my 4 month old German Shepherd pup.) I figured she would have no trouble following the buck's tracks. I ran 800 yards to the house, ditched my pack, took my coat off and switched it for a jacket, and got Luger.
We ran back to where we left my dad with the end of the blood trail. I took her to about the middle of the trail and led her in the direction the buck had gone until she seemed to catch on. . She followed it as far as the road, but try as she did, the poor girl just couldn't follow it from there. We crossed the road, but still couldn't find any blood. I reasoned that if I could find just one drop of blood, my dog could follow it from there. Well it took about 100 yards of walking where I THOUGHT the deer had gone before I found any more blood. This time the drops were huge and close together. The spots of blood were getting a lot bigger and I saw huge clotted drops all over the corn stalks and dead grass. Then my dad suddenly yelled "There he is!" and I almost wet myself. He had ran about 250 yards total through lots of rough terrain, but dropped right below a metal power-line tower on an access road to the fields. We approached him from behind, just like your supposed to and I was absolutely amazed by what I saw. He (the buck) was the biggest 8-pointer I had ever seen and his antlers were even bigger than my previous 10-pointer's had been. We realized that I had hit him in the neck, not the chest! I guess I just got really lucky because the arrow severed his trachea and both his jugular veins. I lifted his head and ran my hands up and down the rack. He had 8 gnarly tines with a slightly palmated left main beam. My dad then took Luger back to the house as I stayed with the deer. While I was waiting, I thanked God for the extreme luck and for the bountiful harvest.
When Dad came back in the truck, we took pictures and field-dressed the deer. We loaded him into the back of my dad's truck and drove him back to the house and sprayed him down with cool water from the garden hose to keep him from spoiling. Hours later, I weighed him at 205 pounds field dressed! His rack was 21 inches wide on the outside and 18.5 on the inside. his tallest tine was 10.5" and his main beams were slightly "palmated." When it was all said and done, I learned that I should NEVER take a shot on an animal until I am ABSOLUTELY ready. I got really lucky on this hunt, because the buck just ran and bled out before we could loose him. From now on, I will wait until I am absolutely sure before shooting again.
The first deer i shot with a bow,wow that was 28 wonderful seasons ago,i was 12 my first year,how time flies.My dad took me hunting about 2 miles from our home at the base of the mountain,it was a evening hunt after school.I was sitting in my treestand an old baker climber by 4pm with my dad in his about 60 yards away.45 minutes before dark 2 does wondered into my bowrange ,i was very excited and pulled the shot,but hit her in the neck,she ran down to my dad and fell over.I whistled for him to come but he already new what had happened.He tought me to track a bloodtrail that night even though he knew where the deer was,it was his way of being dad,he must have been proud that night cause we stopped at several of his friends houses on our way home to show it off.He mounted the tail and the broken arrow for me and it still hangs on the wall in his den.That deer means as much to me as any of the bucks i have takin since.
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