There are times when I decide ahead of time to shoot a buck. There also are days when my mind is made up to just study the deer, see how they travel and enjoy sitting in a tree stand. On the occasional day, if the right deer shows up, I make an instantaneous decision to shoot or not shoot.
I was sitting out in a tall pine tree and was ambivalent about whether to shoot or not that December evening, and it all depended on whether a good buck put in an appearance. I often go for days or weeks without seeing a good buck, and other times, there ay be one or two good ones seen in a week.
A buck came across a small field, heading in my direction, and I knew from past experiences that if he stayed his course, the deer would pass under my stand and offer a quartering-away shot at close range.
Some Irish guy -- by the name of Doyle, Murphy or something like that -- has developed a bad reputation for messing things up for bow hunters. Little did I know that he would be riding my shoulder in my tree stand tonight. The law with this guy is if anything can go wrong, it will. I think they call it Murphy's Law.
Two does and three fawns came out of nearby heavy cover, and headed my way. They appeared to be on a collision course with the 9-pointer. Sure enough, there was a gathering of the deer clan behind my tree as the five does and fawns and the single buck moved out in front of my tree to mill around.
It wasn't a massive buck but a nice 8-pointer with plenty of shooting light left.
I tried to pay the most attention to the buck and what he was doing, but it became necessary to watch the does as well. Many of us have become so intent on shooting a buck that we forget the antlerless deer standing nearby, and a doe or fawn can step in front of an arrow intended for the buck or look up as the bow is drawn, see movement and spook all the deer.
It's happened to me a few times over more than 50 years of bow hunting. I aim at a buck, check the locations of the does or fawns, reacquire my aiming point on the buck and shoot. Between the time my brain tells me to shoot, and the trigger finger pulls the trigger, a doe or fawn can step forward to take the arrow instead of the intended target animal.
This buck stood, upright and motionless, and quartering toward me from a 10 o'clock position. The wind was blowing from the buck past me, and the does and fawns seemed willing to mill around before moving on.
I shoot bucks that are broadside or quartering away, and have learned over many years to wait for one of these shots. If it doesn't present itself, you wait. More deer are lost because of sloppy shooting and shots taken at a low-percentage angle, and the result is a wounded deer. It's far better to wait for the shot you want.
The buck turned when it saw a small buck in the distance, and opened up the angle I wanted, but just as I began my draw, the buck turned back and presented a straight going-away shot. It's another shot I won't take.
One of the does walked past the buck, and he hooked at her, and she shied away. A doe fawn came up on the other side of the buck, and one hard look sent her scampering away.
This buck's rut was over but he wanted to dig into what was left of my winter wheat.
The buck turned again, and quartered toward me from a different angle. He offered every possible low-percentage shot there was, but wouldn't turn and open up his chest cavity.
Bow hunters with very little experience should consider the wisdom of the following statement: Never take a shot the buck (or doe) offers; wait for the exact shot you want or don't shoot. It's simple advice but many people count on luck rather than skill to put the arrow in the right spot. I watch the television hunters take those bad shots, and it seems they always connect at 50-60 yards, but something is wrong with that practice. And often, the buck they supposedly take turns out to be one that looks nothing like what they were shooting at.
Patience is a virtue, and none are more noble than waiting for a killing shot to offer itself, and then being capable of putting the arrow where it must go. The patience required to sit like a bird-dog on point in cold and snowy weather, and wait and wait for a deer to turn is something that must be experienced. It's not easy to do.
Hunters need self control to wait out a buck. These deer stuck around within easy bow range for nearly an hour. Twice the buck offered a good shot but he held that position for only a second or two, and it's impossible for someone to stay at full draw for 60 minutes.
Murphy put in his appearance.
Each time he got to that magic spot, he would spin and swipe at a doe or fawn that had come too close. Finally he turned, and as I came to full draw, a doe walked up and whispered in his ear.
He stood, as still as a mannequin, and she stood next to him. I slowly eased the bow back down and watched. Soon, the buck and doe turned 90 degrees as if they were dance partners, and walked off side-by-side and directly away from me.
There would be no shot taken this night. The deer had again won the eternal struggle between hunter and hunted, and on this night, the deer didn't know anyone was nearby.
There will be another night, and we'll see how that one plays out. Any hunt with a buck out in front of a bow hunter is a night to cherish ... even if we never get the shot we hope to experience. That's why they call it deer hunting.
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