Up until recently, my 20-year performance history as a bowman deer hunter has not been too bad, at least in terms of humane kills and ethical shots.
Only three deer have been taken by my bow over those years, but in all three cases, the arrows flew true and all were the best-kill scenarios — double lung shots and complete pass-throughs.
No wounded deer with my bow. One of the deer was a very respectable 10-point buck, which stares down at me every day at breakfast time.
My conviction as a bowhunter, being keenly aware of what bad shot placement can do to a deer, has always been to piously avoid the arrow release if the distance is excessive or if there is no broadside shot. Fellow bowhunters have even hinted that my shot philosophy is a tad on the weeny side.
Before the bow season and during August shooting sessions this year, my 60-pound compound bow proved just too difficult for my “mature” muscle groups. So I broke down, and spent some of my kid’s inheritance and purchased an Ember Elite. It has adjustable draw poundage of 45 pounds and a let-off that would make Robin Hood green with envy.
Putting the bow through its paces at my practice target, I soon realized that this bow, however user friendly, shot differently than my old PSE. Practice, practice, practice was the key.
When bow season arrived, I went to my tree stand feeling confident, not only in my sweet new bow, but in my ability to bring arrows to the bull at 20 yards with consistency.
Then reality came along and reared its ugly head. At the moment of truth, under the most ideal possible conditions, everything went to hell. With plenty of light left and no wind, a doe came tiptoeing from left to right below my stand at about 15 yards.
Bump.
She heard the noise as my bow scraped the side of the tree stand rail. Alerted, the deer sidestepped behind a beech tree. With my bow drawn and saying soft thank-yous for the lovely string let-off designed by the Elite bow engineers, I took a breath, calmed myself and awaited the shot.
As scripted, she stepped into the open.
“What the … ?” The peep-sight ring on the bowstring was apparently unaligned. No green pin. No sight picture. I triggered the release anyway, knowing the risk.
Prang.
The arrow missed the deer completely and thwacked off a rock, breaking the fixed broadhead and sending the arrow flip-flopping vertically alongside the now-wary whitetail. But she didn’t take flight. She did a couple of smooth, tango-like steps just out of range and stood frozen, eyes and ears on full alert, looking back my way.
Nocking another arrow, I awaited her return to within shooting range. No such luck. My deer soon took flight making that nose-clearing blow that all fleeing deer make.
But can you believe it? A half hour after this ill-fated hunting kerfuffle, a yearling and another doe came along on the same track beneath me, moving left to right.
At full draw, I awaited the shot on the biggest doe just as a trailing four-point buck appeared in my peripheral vision. Suddenly the moving doe blocked the buck. In the confusion, I lost composure and couldn’t rationalize that shot.
The buck stopped in an opening just out of my target practice comfort zone. No longer cool-headed, I took the shot anyway, forgetting to use the red distance pin that was called for. The arrow buried itself in the dirt just beneath the buck’s forward shoulder.
Would you believe it? The doe was still there. She was out of range, too, but by then my emotions were apparently controlling my decision-making more than my brain.
I sent my last remaining arrow at her vitals. To this moment I am not sure which pin was used, but I do recall a sight picture in the peep ring. It sounded like the arrow hit, but an hour of careful, meticulous searching turned up no blood and no arrow.
So let me guess. By now you are as disappointed with me as I am with myself. My late wife, Diane, with whom I shared my hunt stories, would not be happy with her husband the hunter, either. She would be up one side of me and down the other.
It is said that if you bowhunt deer long enough you will have regrets, that a wounding is inevitable.
So I will put on the bowhunter’s “hair shirt,” but I will keep hunting. And I will do better.
