Not the right night to shoot

Bucks often bed down in open grassland where visibility is good.

The buck minced along a fence line in no hurry to enter the field before dark last night. It stopped every 10 feet, lifted its head to look around and sniff for danger before moving slowly toward the dinner table.

The day, still warm but overcast, threatened rain. The buck, more wary than it should have been, wasn't in a rush to leave the heavy cover. It poked along, feeding along the edge of a corn field, after leaving a thick swale where it and several other deer had been bedded down.

The buck, sporting six points in a small basket rack, was only 1 1/2 years old. It was plenty old enough to know enough to stay with other deer his age and not get mixed up with larger, older bucks. However, he had taken to hanging out with some big bucks.

Looking for a good buck, not a 1 1/2 year old.

My stand was 15 feet up a towering maple. The buck was still on the same path it had used during August, September and October, and apparently saw no reason to deviate from its chosen course.

Would it follow the same trail again? Yeah, it would because he always traveled the same morning and evening routes, and it would soon pass within easy bow range of my tree stand. My stand wasn't too far from my wife's covered pit blind.

The does and other yearlings had already passed by and continued on into an open field 200 yards away. The buck, moving slowly and daintily like his feet hurt, was taking all the time in the world. He was in no rush to go anywhere.

Many things would have to come together before a bow shot could be taken, and I knew I wouldn't shoot him. The buck seemed to be buddies with some trophy bucks. Now, some of those boys were shooters.

The problem with hunting big bucks is few shooting opportunities.

Would I be ready if one of the big bucks showed up? Daily practice and well over a half-century of studying big whitetail deer at close range had chased away any possible jitters. My mind and gear was ready.

The buck moved a few steps closer. He stopped to sniff where his sister, mother and cousins had paused, and the young buck looked around as its mother had done countless times before. He wasn't running with Mom now but was in the big leagues with the big guys.

My bow, sighted in to be dead-on at 20 yards from 15 feet up a tree, was waiting. An arrow was nocked, and it was ready to use when and if the right time arrived. I was ready for one of the big bucks, not Junior.

The six-pointer hopped over a single strand of barbed wire, and paused again to study the upcoming terrain. Other deer, 300 yards away, were heading out to feed as the sun began to sink in the western sky.

It would have been an easy shot on the little guy.

And then I saw them. Three big bucks were using an adjacent trail. They were only 40 yards away from me but the thick brush would deflect any arrow sent their way, and besides I don't shoot that far.

The young buck turned again, and slowly stepped a few feet closer to my tree. Its head came back, and its nostrils flared as it snuffled the air for danger. None was detected, and satisfied, the buck began to move again, now toward the big bucks.

My tree stand was directly downwind from the buck, and it couldn't smell me. Rubber boots and a downwind position and my Scent-Lok suit kept the buck from detecting my presence.

The buck bent forward, nibbled on a few sprigs of grass, and moved again. The buck was only 20 yards away and quartering toward me. It wasn't a shot I would take even if the buck had been huge. Patience would now become a factor as I waited for the animal to turn and head for the other deer. I could only hope a big buck was lagging behind.

I'd watched that small buck walk to that exact place many times before, and knew he would turn slightly and offer a quartering-away shot at 10 yards. I didn't move, and the buck followed the same pattern he had traveled for months.

The buck slowly turned, quartering away, and my bow came up. It felt like an old friend in my left hand, and as it came up the arrow was cautiously drawn back as my eyes tracked the buck.

An easy shot but again I passed on this buck.

The bow was held back at full draw, and my sight settled low behind the buck's near-side shoulder. One more ounce of pressure on the release would send the Maxima carbon arrow through the buck's chest.

He stopped momentarily to look around, and my finger softly caressed the release trigger without applying the pressure needed to send the arrow on its deadly flight. Slowly, as the buck began walking off again, I eased up on the bow and let the buck walk away, unaware and unharmed.

No other bucks came along that trail. For whatever reason, the bigger animals had taken a different route and were far out of range.

Patterning this animal was easy. His buddies were much more difficult.

I really didn't want to shoot, and patterning this six-pointer and his friends had been relatively easy. Trying to work a bit closer in the days and weeks to come was on my agendam and hopefully one of the bigger bucks would mosey my way..

This exercise was good practice. It provided me with superb outdoor recreational experience, numerous deer sightings, and the chance for a close shot at a nice young buck.

Who knows? Perhaps next time my finger will put that extra ounce of pressure on the release trigger. And then again, I will again choose not to shoot but wait for a larger animal.

It's always this unknown question: whether to shoot or not to shoot, and it's my deep respect for the deer I hunt, that allows me the wonderful opportunity to acknowledge the magical difference between hunting and killing.

For me, on this hunt, it just wasn't the right time or right deer to shoot.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors