Watch this short clip from the hunt:
https://youtu.be/iMNkICyp66s
Hunting small acre comes with a number of considerations a hunter must prepare for. One major consideration is the possibility of a wounded deer running onto neighboring lands. After a long day of knocking on doors, placing phone calls, and getting to know the right people, we had searched every square acre of the surrounding private and it was back to square one. There was no blood leaving the bloody bed, meaning the big buck must have licked his wounds and clotting began. Where could he have gone?
The following day we returned under the suspicion the buck had doubled back and could very well be on the private I was hunting. The first place we searched on the property was a small patch of canary grass wedged between the hardwoods and a cut corn field. I was only a few quiet steps in when he sprung from his bed 15-yards from me. I drew my bow and sent another arrow the moment my pin found him through my peep, but a tiny sapling had other plans for me. My cameraman saw the direction the deer ran once he entered the hardwoods and agreed to sprint to the end of the wood lot to try and cut the deer off, maybe the buck would be pushed back towards me for a second follow-up shot opportunity.
Sure enough, five minutes later and here he came, running like he was healthy, but surely he was in recovery mode. I sent one more arrow in his direction as he ran past no more than 25-yards from me, but the arrow caught a branch in the dense woods and deflected towards the bucks feet as he passed by. Had the arrow not deflected, and had the first shot not punched a sapling, this buck would have been toast. Unfortunately for me that morning, "should have, would have, could have's" play no part in the reality of bowhunting.
From the way he ran I was sure he would survive. I told myself I would dedicate the remainder of my season to hunting this buck.
Two weeks later I had stretched the patience of my family as I pursued this animal. I was tired, I missed my wife and babies, and work was getting ahead of me and I realized this mission I had set off on was a recipe that tastes like obsession, and when obsession takes hold of a man, his vision becomes narrow focused while the things that really mean the most to him become blurred. I've been down that road, I didn't want to travel down it ever again and I made a decision right then and there as I came to this realization, I would be a fool if I passed another opportunity at a mature animal in pursuit of the one I had wounded just two weeks earlier.
That afternoon I climbed in the stand and said a silent prayer asking for a second chance, a fair one this time, not a Tim Wells trick shot opportunity. I reminded myself of my epiphany earlier that day, and then the wind picked up and I gripped my bow. My camera was mounted right beside me, but I scorned it for costing me the time I would have had to ready my bow the first time that giant buck walked into 12-yards broadside two weeks earlier. The wind blew harder and somehow I knew it was a sign. I hooked up my release, whispered under my breath, "Is this my sign?", and looked across the field to see a wide buck heading away from me nearly 200-yards away. A grunt and a snort-wheeze later and he came running on a string.
I have the remainder of gun season to pursuit the one that got away with my bow in my hand, but I'm surely grateful for the opportunity at this busted up warrior.
