Folks, I don’t know about you but, I have always appreciated when hunting shows or writers include failures among their stories. I have always felt that those tales of failure make the stories and those telling them more real, and it makes me remember that mishaps can and will happen to all of us at one time or another. Thus is the case for this year’s archery deer season, well at least in my case. The season was not without a victory in the woods, but it came at a cost.
My 2024 archery season started out kind of like last year. The general business of life, along with my son’s senior year and one last fall football season that I wouldn’t have missed for anything. To be short and to the point, I hadn’t gotten as much time in the woods as I had hoped for. However, my hunting partner Steve and I had seen several nice bucks on his property, and I think we both had very high hopes for success this season.
October went by in a blink and before I knew it, I was off work from Election Day through Veteran’s Day to hunt the rut. On the evening hunt of Wednesday November 6th, I found myself sitting with my new crossbow in a box blind on the south end of the property. It was one of a few places on the property that hadn’t really been pressured a lot and I needed a break from getting blasted by the wind in a tree stand. About 3:45 in the afternoon a 6-point buck came in from the woods south of the blind. I watched him weave around and navigate his way through the brush and he eventually walked within 10 yards of the west side of the blind. He continued west in his search for a mate, and I went back to waiting for a good buck to show up. About an hour before dark, a doe came thru on the same trail and was being followed by a 4 point. I shrugged it off and just sat there in the chair with my arms folded and the crossbow leaning against the wall to my right. My friends let me tell you, that was a mistake. I should have grabbed my crossbow and paid more attention because just as the 4-point made the turn to the west I heard a deep grunt. It was the type of grunt that when you hear it, you know it’s not a little buck. I turned my head to look back out the south window and to my surprise he was already right on top of the blind. The buck was 15 yards out and coming in fast. I had little time to react, so I grabbed the crossbow and tried to get ready to shoot out the west end of the blind through a very small window. No good, he blew right past the opening before I had a chance. I quickly spun the chair to look out the north window and got to my feet. Leaning my upper body out the window I gave a meh! The buck stopped so I quickly got the crosshairs on him and just as he started to take off again, I squeezed the trigger. Thud. Oh no, thud is not the sound I wanted to hear. The buck lunged forward and trotted a few yards then began a very slow walk. I grabbed my binoculars and got a look at his side. The rage broadhead had done its job and made quite a hole but the hole was back a bit far and I thought that the best-case scenario, I got him in the liver. Now I have shot deer in the liver before and this was not ideal, but I knew that if I played it cool and gave him a couple of hours, he would lay down close by and expire. I packed up my things and slowly crept over to retrieve the crossbow bolt. It was easy to find thanks to the lighted nock. You have just got to love those things. The bolt was covered in blood and there was blood on the ground nearby so I felt confident the recovery would not be that difficult. I headed out the west end of the woods and stayed as far out in the field as I could in hopes the deer would not get up and run any further. When I reached Steve’s house, I told him about the encounter and the shot I had made. He asked what the plan was, and I said I would like to give it two hours and go look for him. So, I ran home to grab dinner and returned about 2 hours later. As I drove back to Steve’s I started to notice a mist on my windshield. Now keep in mind, there had not been any forecast prediction that included rain that evening. When I arrived, Steve greeted me and seemed really concerned with the fact it was raining. I had my reservations, but I kept my cool and said it would all be ok and that we would find the buck. Well, I wish I could tell you that I was right. Unfortunately, the rain began to come down just hard enough that it was making it hard to find the blood trail. A liver shot isn’t known for producing a great blood trail anyways and having any of the trail get washed away was certainly not helpful. Steve’s property is thick, and it is hard to see very far in front of you when navigating in broad daylight, let alone with a flashlight at night. We walked all the deer trails that were visible but had no luck finding the buck. I decided to call it after an hour and a half, and we went home for the night.
The next morning, I took to the woods with the motto “When a horse bucks you off, don’t wait, jump right back on it”. I grabbed my good old Mathews and climbed up in a tree stand not far from where I had shot the buck the night before. Around 9:30 several deer were spooked off the cut corn field to the south when a tractor pulling a set of discs came driving back towards the woods. One deer stopped and did not follow the others. So, I grabbed my binoculars, looked at it and soon realized that it was a nice buck, very tall and out past his ears in width. He was a shooter by anyone’s definition that hunts in the surrounding area. As the tractor made another pass, the buck decided he no longer desired to hang around. As he got closer to the property line, I made some doe bleats and a few grunts hoping I could coax him into swinging by my stand for a visit and sure enough, he turned and headed my way. Now let me paint this picture for you. The stand I was in is on the very edge of a field, but it faces the woods and a very thick little corner that bucks just love. The only problem was, he was coming in on the thick side and would need to leave the cover to offer me a shot. I could not risk calling any more as he drew closer to my location. All I could do was wait and hope that he was curious enough to step out into the open. He came to about 35 yards from me and stopped. All I could see was his head and one leg. He looked around for a few seconds and then as if to say “no thank you”, he turned and walked away heading in the same direction all the other deer had gone a few moments earlier. I had thought about looking around for the buck I shot the night before but with another good buck in the woods, I knew I needed to sneak out of there as quickly as possible. I snuck out of there for a few hours and returned to hunt that afternoon. I got in early and headed to a stand that we call “The Orchard”. It was warm so I packed in most of my clothes so I would not overheat on the way in. As I was getting settled in my stand and putting on a few layers, something caught my eye. It was about 50 yards to the north of me and it looked like a deer laying on the ground. I thought to myself “I was very sneaky getting in here, but I can’t imagine getting into this stand and not waking a deer that close”. I dug out my binoculars to get a closer look. As I peered through the brush, I could make out antlers. It was my buck from the night before! I quickly descended the tree and made my way over to my buck.
Author’s buck found the following day amid warm temperatures.
It was him alright. He was a solid 2.5-year-old 8 point. Unfortunately, the temps had been above 50 over most of the night and had reached the upper 60’s that day so I did not feel good about using any of the meat. After I punched my tag, we removed him from the woods that evening, and I removed the head to make a western skull mount from him. It wasn’t how I wanted the hunt to end but at least I had closure.
A few days later Steve and I were hunting together again and this time it was Steve’s turn at a close encounter. I had seen a nice buck headed right for him and several seconds later I heard what I thought to be the sound of a crossbow. I patiently waited to get word from Steve, hoping to find out that he had gotten the buck. Unfortunately, he shot right under the deer but at least it was a clean miss. That evening I sat in a stand with the duck grass opening behind me. That night I watched a very large and wide antlered buck working scrapes and rubs in the neighbors’ woods. I was sure it was the buck I had called into 35 yards on Thursday morning. There were several does in the field, and he was checking all of them. I grunted, bleated and even snort wheezed at him but nothing I did seemed to interest the old boy. Just about 30 minutes before sunset I had another nice 8-point and a doe sneak in behind me. They were very interested in the tree I was hiding in but never seemed to peg me. Steve and I waited until it was good and dark that night before we headed back to the house. What an exciting week in the woods it had been so far.
The next day was Sunday, Steve had to work, and I went to church in the morning. That afternoon I had just enough time to get back to Steve’s place, but I didn’t dare to try getting to the woods as I feared it would only mean I would bump deer. So, I climbed into an elevated box blind just across the field and directly behind Steve’s house. It wasn’t long at all before I had several groups of doe and fawns in the field. Along with all the doe and fawns there was another solid 8-point, but he wasn’t the big one I had seen the night before. The deer had all moved on until just before dark when one lone doe showed up in the field 30 years from the blind. She was bleating her little fool head off and I thought this could be enough to bring him in if he is anywhere close to the area. But he never showed and as the last light faded away, I watched as she disappeared into the brush.
Monday morning, Veteran’s Day. This day has significant meaning for me as it was the day I shot my first buck at Steve’s place and the day I herniated a disc in my lower back trying to load him in the truck by myself. There was not a shred of doubt where I needed to sit, and I was in the blind a good hour and a half before sunrise. I had a feeling that this was going to be the day that I finally would get a crack at the buck that I had been playing cat and mouse with for days. As dawn broke, the same group of doe and fawns all filtered back in from the field and made their way back into their bedding area. I sat and watched waiting for a pair of big antlers to appear, but the field remained empty. I decided after not seeing any deer for a little while that I should close the north facing window and turn around to watch the brush to the south of the blind. As I opened the south window, a fawn that had bedded right under me and 10 yards from the blind jumped up and looked around to try and figure out what had startled her. I sat back down and watched her for a few minutes, and she eventually laid back down. I grabbed my phone to look at a message that I had gotten a few moments earlier. I was typing a response when I heard a doe bleat and as I looked up, I watched another doe emerge from the brush. I watched as she slowly walked out in front of the blind and just as she crossed a small clearing right in front of me, more movement to the left caught my eye. I looked over to see what was following her and there he was! As big as ever, tall, wide and everything a bow hunter hopes to see standing in front of him. I slowly reached for the Mathews and rotated in my chair to position for the shot. I kept my eyes on him as I drew back. He had no idea I was there. We had been playing a game of chess against each other for 3 days and I was about to win. As I reached full draw and settled the kisser button to the corner of my mouth, touching the string to my nose and getting my sight picture, I carefully placed the 20-yard pin just behind his shoulder. What happened next will be one of those moments that haunts me for the rest of my bow hunting years. I squeezed the trigger on my release and sent the Grim Reaper tipped Eason Full Metal Jacket arrow rocketing towards him. Crack! The giant bounded off with all but about 10 inches of my arrow sticking out of his side. What? No pass thru? I thought something must be wrong with my bow. How did I not have enough energy in that shot to get a pass through? Then as the adrenaline started to let up and my mind could process the information, I started to think about where he was standing. As I looked down at the trail he was standing on, it occurred to me that he was not broadside but rather quartering away. In fact, he was quartering away enough that I should have placed the pin a good 6 to 8 inches further back on his ribs. I had struck the deer exactly where I aimed and unfortunately buried my broadhead in the inside of the opposite shoulder blade. This also likely meant that I did not hit both lungs. I watched the buck as he ran off onto the neighboring property. He was certainly hauling the mail and did not act in any way like he was mortally wounded. I got out of the blind to inspect the spot where I had shot him. I found one of the blazer veins from my arrow which made perfect sense as I had seen the arrow contact the post he ran past when he took off. I started across the open duck grass and eventually found a blood trail. Once I had a trail to follow, I backed out and went back to the blind to secure permission to track him on the neighbor’s land. Once I had permission, I headed back across the field to pick up where I left off. It seemed like it was a good trail at first but quickly dissipated and eventually after several hundred yards I was following pin drops. I did find the arrow and about 6 or 7 inches of it was missing. After obtaining permission to continue my track on the next adjacent property, I ended up kicking him up. He took off bounding away and again looked as though the injury was not slowing him down. I worked a small grid back and forth and never found another drop of blood. That’s where my hunt ended. I had done everything in my power to put myself in position for that shot and in the end the buck got away because I put my sight pin 6 or 8 inches off the mark.
I recently started following a you tube channel called Latitude Outdoors. A few of their hunts have ended like this and the words in the closing remarks of one of their videos were something along the lines of, “Without occasional defeat, we do not appreciate success”. I find that to be true. I will keep the faith that the buck survived the injury and will live to be hunted again, and, in the meantime, I am hanging up my bow for the season and pulling out the rifle. I will keep an eye out for him during the firearm deer season, but I know that I will be thinking about the one that got away for many weeks to come. I will eventually move on from this and perhaps I might even get another opportunity later this year. Each encounter like this with a hunter makes those old bucks even smarter, and in the same respect, every mistake we make is an opportunity to learn and become better for the next hunt. To say the least, it’s frustrating when you work so hard and come so close to success only to fall short because of such a seemingly small error. Yet it’s these frustrating and exciting encounters that keep us coming back for more.
As always, Good luck in the woods, Happy Hunting and God Bless
son how to shoot and have watched him successfully harvest three deer to date. I enjoy making memories with him in the woods and hope to see him take some nice deer in years to come. My loving wife and partner in life is my biggest fan and supports me in all of my endeavors. We love to go camping, hiking, kayaking and exploring together. I’ve been to Canada nine times and counting on remote fly-in fishing trips and love going after those tasty Walleye and giant Northern pike. Most recently to date, I have become a Michigan DNR certified Hunter and Bow Hunter Safety instructor and
have started writing for the Wild Game Dynasty Blog. I enjoy giving back, by teaching youth some of what I have learned in my years of experience in the woods, as well as sharing my stories with readers.
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