Admitting some bow-hunting errors

The crunch time is approaching. I've done most of my preseason deer scouting, put up a couple of tree stands in key locations, built a pit blind, and am waiting to see just how much more rain we are going to get in the near future.

Invariably, no matter how hard I think about things, I'll forget one key element in my deer-hunting equation. Hell, I once drove 60 miles to one of my hunting spots and got my plastic lidded tub of Scent-Lok clothes out of the car, as well as my rubber boots, and reached in for my bow. It wasn't there, and then I remembered taking it into the house to dry it out after a rain the previous day.

It was dry when I got home that night. Instead of hunting, I spent the evening watching other spots and located a good buck that I shot a week or so later when all of my equipment was in my hands or on my back.

Make certain you have everything in your baackpack or pockets.

Forgetting things is easy, and it happens to everyone. Once, I was hunting a cedar tree where there was no time to put up a stand. My bow was laid on the ground with my haul rope attached to a belt loop. Normally, my backpack is worn into my stand and it always contains a spare release.

The path up to where I could watch the trail and shoot if necessary was a tight fit so I left my backpack 150 yards away near the field edge. I'd pick it up on the way out. Up I go, like an arthritic monkey, got positioned on a large and sturdy tree limb, leaned back against another sturdy tree limb, and hoisted my bow into the tree after attaching my full-body harness.

I settled back to wait, and I always leave my release on the string. Here comes a dandy 9-pointer, and I'm prepared to shoot when he hits a little dogleg in the trail. It will provide a quartering-away shot at 17 yards. The bow is slowly raised into position, and guess what?

A tiny twig hit the trigger, and the release fell to the ground. The buck heard the noise in the leaves, stopped, looked around and walked to the dogleg and stood in the most perfect place. I could have shot with my fingers, but it had been years since I had done so, and I couldn't remember whether to pull with three fingers under the nock or one over and two fingers under. Rather than risk a bad shot, I didn't shoot but never saw that buck again.

I've lost enough things while hunting to stock some small sporting goods stores. All have been lost because of dumb moves on my part. I'm like the pool hustler: I know how to sink the shot, and play position pool to set up for an easy shot on the next ball, but knowing how to do it and doing it are two mighty different things.

Think ahead, and plan for any eventuality.

The same applies to hunting gear. A buddy found a pair of binoculars I had left in a blind. I thought they came out in my backpack, but goofy me, I forgot them and tore my car and house apart looking for my optics. The next person that sat in that stand walked out after dark and said "here are those binoculars you lost. You left them on the seat in the coop."

I've lost expensive and highly prized knives, flashlights and what not. Stuff falls out of my pocket or backpack, and I can think of at least two releases that have been lost in the woods.

Even knowing my proclivity for losing things, I still run through a checklist, and try to keep everything I may need in my backpack.

Paying attention to what goes in and what is taken out of the backpack or one's pockets is an obvious first step to keeping track of gear. But, as is true with many people, we get thinking about something else, and forget a sorely needed item.

I took my quiver off my bow several years ago, took them inside to retouch the edge on my broadheads. I touched them up, added a light coating of oil to postpone the onset of rust, and set the quiver next to the door. I was starting out the door when the phone rang.

Don’t let other things distract you.

I grabbed the phone, hung up, turned on the security system, and out the door I went. Drove to the hunting spot, grabbed my bow, looked all over for my arrows, and realized this was another head-slapper night.

So there are my stories of some nitwit moves and stupid actions. It's my suspicion that others forget things on occasion, but I seldom hear from people willing to admit to their dumb tricks.

Now, having confessed some of my silly stunts, perhaps I'll remember everything this year. You think?

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors