Saturday, October 25, 2008

Shot #2

In our early days of hunting this fall, we spent time moving through the woods, checking out deer trails, following tracks, and hunting as we walked. As the deer began getting more cautious of our presence, Matt found me a "stand". A clump of three trees growing near a clearing, with deer trails criss-crossing the area in front and behind me. I stand on a stump, sawed off when the land was logged. From there, I'm about three feet off the ground, with a great view.

And so, most of my latest forays into the woods involve my standing on that stump for about two and a half hours, waiting for those brown tree trunks to suddenly morph into a four-legged woodland creature.

A week ago, on Friday night, a doe did suddenly become visible behind thin tree trunks. She moved closer and closer to me, eating and not once looking up. Not having learned my lesson before, I drew back on her once she reached 20 yards, waiting for her to turn broadside. When she didn't, my arms began to shake and somehow I misfired, sending my arrow flying into a log lying in a pile on the ground. She started, looked up, and started moving toward me. She stomped each foreleg on the ground several times. She was staring directly at me, but I froze, and dropped my gaze, hoping I would blend in with the trees behind me. At this point, she would have been a perfect shot, except that I had no arrow on the string.

When she finally looked away, I eased another arrow from the quiver. She moved further into the woods, but still a decent shot. In my excitement, I completely missed. She looked a little confused about the noise, but continued carelessly on her way. She walked a short loop around fallen brush. I tried another shot, using the wrong sight pin in my haste, and missed wildly. She ambled out of sight, unconcerned. Now arrowless, I sat down on my stump. When Matt appeared at 7:30, we decided his parents might help us find the arrows tomorrow on our walk.

I don't suppose too many deer would be so ignorant that they'd let three arrows fly so near.

1 comment:

HollyMarie said...

Oh Amy, I'm laughing! I don't picture you being impatient, though I can see how you could become tired!