Lessons in deer hunting.
It was a beautiful Ohio fall day. The promise of great things to come was in the air. My brother, dad and myself were preparing our game plan for the mornings hunt.
The leaves were in their full fall color change with vivid colors like only the Ohio hardwoods can produce. The air was brisk, just enough to give you a slight chill when the heart rate settled down from the mornings climb to our pre-planned stands.
The year was circa 1968 and Ohio bowhunting was very difficult especially for a teenager, like myself. The deer numbers then were nowhere near what they are now. Ohio Fish and Game officials have done a remarkable job there, almost too good.
We were all poised for the ambush along a narrow ravine that would all but guarantee venison in the freezer if a deer approached from either direction. Several deer trails led into the ravine and we felt like an ambush was certain. I was stationed in an apple tree at one end and my brother Dan was in a clump of bushes on a knoll at the other end. Our dad took up a stand in the middle on the sunny side of a ridge (I guess in case the deer got by either one of us, fat chance).
After sitting in the apple tree for nearly an hour, I could hear the deer approaching, naturally from the opposite direction in which I was facing. Each step he took crunched leaves under foot. As he neared my tree from behind I couldnt resist the temptation to turn around to get a look. I readied my Bear 50lb recurve and cedar arrow tipped with a Bear broadhead. Slowly I turned around, not my head, rather my whole body, to see a fat, young four point approaching.
This was a scene I experienced as a youth in the hills of central Ohio during the 60s. My father, brother and I were hunting in the hardwood-covered hills in the vicinity of the small rural community of Hebron, not far from Columbus.
The ending to that hunt was the same as many others that have followed, prompting me to share with you in my wealth of wisdom on deer hunting. Countless stories have been written and told teaching you how to bag a deer but very few teach the true art of how to come home empty handed. It is to this end that I write this story. Im sure all of you who have ventured into the woods with stick and string in hand have at least one good story to tell but I doubt any of you have made it a lifelong endeavor such as I.
Naturally, as I turned around the young buck caught the movement. I sat there frozen like a kid with his hand in a cookie jar, in a waiting game I was destined to lose. Here is where all my education on deer hunting really came to good use. I stared the little devil right in the eyes. Hey, I figured, Ill just mesmerize him and when hes frozen in a trance Ill draw and shoot, right? Five minutes later when my hands began to shake almost as much as the rest of me the buck decided he had seen enough. He may have been ignorant about deer hunters before but I was sure filling in the gaps that instinct had left wide open, and fast. Finally he turned to leave the way he came in, leaving me sitting in the tree twisted like a pretzel still afraid to move.
What he didnt know was that my brother Dan, was waiting in ambush in a clump of bushes on a knoll at the other end of the ravine. Dan, being an equally accomplished hunter himself (at least then, he has since fallen by the wayside and actually killed a few deer.), saw the buck return. Yes I said return, because Dan had let him walk right by him the first time without firing a shot. Ill probably never know the true reason for that one. As the buck approached the knoll Dan readied the arrow on his bow. His movement concealed by brush he moved his bow arm around to follow the bucks path until he entered his shooting lane. Pulling back to full draw he swung the bow to line up on the bucks chest and just before releasing the arrow, the broadhead hit an unseen limb and knocked the arrow of the shelf. The buck turned at the sound and stared Dan right in the eyes from about ten feet.
Finally the buck decided it was time for school to close and left the small ravine with his big white tail announcing to all who could see that he was the victor in this battle of wits. Our dad in the meantime was enjoying the sun on his hillside, catching up on the sleep he had missed out on in getting us to this spot in the first place.
That was the beginning of a long and remarkable streak Ive had in many seasons of chasing Mr. Whitetail around. I have decided that the anti hunters have nothing to fear from me since it is a mathematical improbability that Ill ever connect.
