Bowhunting the Bedroom

The frigid shock of cold steel shoots through my hands and forearms as I climb the shaggy bark hickory tree ladder up to the hanging stand. A mysterious feeling of unknown events to come slowly consumes my mind. This is real time, every move I make feels like I'm breaking egg shells. I glare right and the faint ghostly glow of an arrow vane haunts me. Each time I see it a bad daydream plays back. The Easton Axis is driven into another hickory only 20 yards down the hill. Paint that picture in your mind as that is failure #1 for my 2023 bow season. As I settle into the brisk

November air I gather myself…. Deep breath…. Relax…..

 

Flash back to 2022

My brother and I routinely run trail cameras, our passion for whitetail hunting has evolved into part of our daily lives. A four year old buck named the “Broken G4” has our attention and this year the clean typical 10 is a 160 class star. At this age a buck like this is one that gets you excited to be a bowhunter, my brother Corey, nephew Kade, and I elect to let him walk. Some would say that is crazy and most of the time they are right but in my experience the real magic happens when you let great animals go, legendary ones get a chance to show you their physical and mental potential. In 2022 we were fortunate to encounter, observe, and pass the deer. Corey and Kade are persistent through shed season and pick up one of his antlers. They do a great job of sticking with our deer herd throughout the season, my lack of focus on whitetails this time of year makes me into a poor shed hunter.

 

 

Move ahead 2023

The summer of 2023 my focus was primarily on an upcoming elk hunt in Arizona. Routine camera work and evening drives with my wife Jessica and yellow lab Fancy bring in the new year. He’s big and has a large indentation on his left beam and Coke can mass: now a 180 - 190 class typical. The buck is on my radar but yet lacks clarity on all the pieces as my elk hunt is about to begin. Roll down to Arizona, hunt our tails off, kill a good bull. That’s another story on its own and driving home my kill switch shifts to whitetails. Kade killed a great heavy 6.5 year old mature, heavy horned buck in the youth season and my first night home Corey called with news of success on another 7.5 year old archery buck that he has a lot of history with. All done by early October, I’m happy for them and come to the realization I have the farms to myself for the rest of October and November!

 

The G4 is toward the top of the list for this year's prospects. The clock turns as I stare at the maps and mental notes of history. Bowhunting for me is like a new puzzle each year. I usually have quite a few of the pieces but some aren’t available at the beginning of the season. The pieces are sightings, trail cam photos, skill sets, equipment, historical data, food, and most importantly time. Let me say that again TIME. 

 

The Hunt Begins

Hunting the fringes begins the game of cat and mouse and trail camera photos is all I can take away from my time spent bowhunting. I press closer to my prediction of the bucks bedding area, a nasty thick ditch that seems to swallow up whatever enters its presence. Bowhunting near the bedding area is a risk I was willing to take, the payment in excitement has no match. 

 

On a morning hunt I walk south across the cut bean field, wind at my back. Wrong for most hunters but ideal for me as the thermals lift the powder up out of my wind checker. I settle in the stand as daybreak awakens the valley below to my right. A younger buck pushes through followed by some does heading back to their beds, a great sign of pre-rut action. More movement in the underbrush catches my eyes. BUCK!

 

Instinctively grabbing my glass in the dead calm setting I go through the sequence in slow motion. Huge beam and tall tine realizing it’s G4 I am silently yelling at myself. You should have your bow in hand! Should be shooting! NOW! GIANT 

 

The buck is looking in my direction for minutes now 40 yards. The magical encounter is quickly turning into a long drawn out show down that takes FOREVER. The cat and mouse game runs in slow motion…. The buck takes a step, I grab my bow. Another step, I range in my head, another few steps and I’m at full draw….. Just one more step… ONE MORE STEP!  The monster is 27 yards behind 3 hickory trees. My mind crystal clear saying it's going to happen starts to realize my arms and back are burning. The weight of my Matthews is fighting me after what seemed like 2-3 minutes of holding while the buck just stood there looking in the opposite direction. Vitals blocked he just needs one more step! He turns away and walks into the thick brush. WHACK! The bow erupts to my complete shock as I try to let down or so I think? What the hell happened? When I come to reality the buck is standing down the hill out of a clear shooting lane and my arrow is jammed into one of the damned hickory trees. The fresh splinters make me sick, I've never liked a hickory tree! The buck runs 20 yards not knowing what just happened either, rounded the hill and headed back to his bedroom. Failure #1 What a roller coaster! 

 

October fades into November, the anticipated time for red hot action did not come to fruition in the areas I was hunting. I encountered the buck one time as I hung in my tree saddle above his bedding area. While walking in on 2 hunts I have a gut feeling I bumped the buck well before sunrise at 4 a.m. and then an even earlier 3 a.m. trying to get in ahead of him. At this point I had logged many hours hunting the deer. The landowners must have thought I was going crazy, yes I was! Laugh out loud and thank you for everything.

 

The Final Sit

 

The final puzzle pieces are scattered in my head as I daydream through the days into mid November. I cannot focus well on work this time of year. Bowhunting is something I have to do. I gave the area a rest and went after another buck coming close on a stalk as he tended a hot doe. A shortage of daylight seized the encounter, to be continued for 2024! 

 

The break helped as I rewashed and organized my gear. Shooting a few arrows and repacked my 2001 Tundra I closed the rusty tailgate and decided to go back to the dreaded hickory tree stand. The upcoming north wind and last year's information gave me hope. He just has to come over the hill from his bedding area one time.

 

The Alarm came quick as I grind ahead. The morning felt right, some just have the positive vibes often reassured with deer moving in the headlights on the road traveling to the farm. I parked the truck in the familiar spot, now compacted from all the prior sits. Geared up and set my target in the headlights, shot my practice arrow as I most times do to feel fresh. Just then a shooting star fell to the south as I stepped across the cut soybean field. 

 

“Another chance” was whispered under my breath, a wish that is mandatory in this setting. I climbed in and pulled the SD card from my pocket which was in a nearby trail camera on my way in just above the treestand.  Quick load on my phone, scrolling…. BOOM! There he is just one morning prior at 6:30. I put my phone away, fastened my release and waited for the sun to awaken the day. Each sunrise from a treestand is a blessing, a new picture being painted for each sitting right before the bowhunter's eye. 

 

A faint rustle of leaves turned into obvious crashing below in the ditch, broken by the resident owls waking up hooting. A few deer came running by in range as my sight pins were just getting visible. Two small bucks chased a few does back into their bedding areas. The wind settled for a moment, I could hear soft walking behind me to the West. Grabbing my bow and still standing, a gray colored coyote came into my glass resting on my limb. At this point my trigger finger had been itching for weeks. I let him walk through knowing the big buck may be in the area. Ten - fifteen minutes pass and I sit down for the first time in the 45 minute hunt. 

 

Not long after I hear another noise, too precise for a squirrel. As it slowly neared I could hear the slight tickle of antler rubbing through the buck brush. Quietly I reached for my bow and hooked my release to the d-loop. Sitting completely still the massive beam flashed to my left eye. What an impressive sight once again. At this time he was at 15 yards heading toward the field edge right to a scrape. Instinctively drawing my Matthews and settling the green 30 yard pin a touch low. Draw, aim, settle, feel the fire… RELEASE! I felt great but some limbs temporarily blocked my view. Quickly grabbing my binos…. Heart shot!. The Magnus Stinger buried into him as he was going to die in sight at just 45 yards from my tree. He spun uneasy and looked in my direction, locking eyes briefly before he settled into the black Iowa dirt taking his last breaths. That sight I will never forget as the emotions of excitement, admiration, sadness, achievement, gratitude, respect, and many others filled my body. I sat down one last time on the creaking treestand seat, it was over. Just like that 15-20 days hunting the hills all for this 15-20 seconds or magical time.

 

 

Climbing down and heading toward the buck, “Freakin Jumm!” spat out of my mouth. The term I picked up from some Arizona guys with a hunting problem! #jummsonly search it up! I called Corey and filled him in on the news as he was glassing mule deer in Colorado. Another great buck was down on the ground we devote several hours of effort to. Dialing my wife Jessica, she was uneasy about helping load the deer before heading to work. She came out and helped take some photos and lift the deer into my truck. She shed her overalls into fancy dress clothes with an eye rolling smile as she took off for the college campus in which she works. Thank you for supporting me when you can.

 

The broken G4 buck had a broken G3 this year and gained many inches, especially mass this season. His body was not surprisingly big compared to other deer we have taken. I enjoyed the late November ride home and started to return customer phone calls for my sign shop. As it was time to get some work done and soak in the experience that had just taken place.