We all make dumb hunting mistakes

There are few people who can tell me they’ve never made a mistake when going head-to-head with a mature whitetail buck. I’ve made some really colossal and stupid mistakes.

Making a little mistake that means nothing is not bad, but when a mistake costs you a shot at a good buck at spitting distance, that is something a person will live with forever.

Preaching to the choir is easy because you’ve made some mistakes, as have I, and we well know the feeling of anger and frustration at ourselves when we mess up.

Fess up! Remember some of your bow-hunting mistakes?

One year a nice buck came past me every night. My stand was in a cedar tree atop a 10-foot knoll. My stand was eight feet up the tree, and when I sat in the stand I was about 20 feet above the trail the buck followed night after night.

The buck was upwind of me, and never looked up at that cedar tree. One day I could hear the buck grunting as he followed his scrape line. He stopped, broadside to me, and as I made my draw, the arrow fell off the rest and rattled through the branches to the ground.

The buck looked up, and then went back to pawing his scrape. I nocked another arrow, began my draw and again the arrow fell off the rest. That buck never hung around long enough to see what made that second tinkling sound.

The question often arises about shooting other critters while deer hunting. I no longer do so, but once while sitting in the same tree stand as noted above, twigs and needles kept falling down on me. I looked up, saw nothing, and five minutes later down came more bark and needles.

I looked up again, and this time saw a big porcupine scratching around on the tree. Not thinking, I drew back, aimed and shot the porkie. It wobbled around, and suddenly I realized what could happen. The animal could fall on my head.

I stepped to the extreme edge of the stand, got two hand-holds and one toe-hold, and down he came onto my stand. A foot nudge sent him toppling over the edge where fell to the ground with an audible thud.

The porkie waddled off, walked down by the scrape below me and died. No deer came visiting me that night.

I could have been wearing a wounded porcupine on my head.

Another time I was in a different stand near an open road that was bordered by a small field, and I was watching a buck 100 yards away. A late arriving hunter came down the two-track trail, knew I was in that stand, and waved at me as he drove past. It’s a normal reaction, and I waved back. The car disappeared, and so did the buck. The buck had seen my friendly wave and skedaddled for heavy cover.

Once I was bow hunting in late December, and was sitting in a hay bale blind near a corn field. I have asthma and hay fever so I downed a Benadryl pill to keep from sneezing, crawled inside and soon there were deer in the corn and eating away, unaware of my presence.

One deer was a nice buck, and I’m inside the hay bales, trying to get a shot at the deer. I needed just another inch or two for a shot, and darkness was coming. I tried to force the issue without making any noise, and damned if the two rectangular hay bales didn’t move a bit. The small bales moved several inches, and there I went, falling out of the blind and almost on top of the buck.

It’s questionable who was more surprised: me or the buck.

All the deer ran off, and at Show and Tell after hunting ended, everyone had a good laugh at my expense. I laughed too as I replayed my smooth move for the other hunters.

Falling out of a ground blinds really requires skill.

One of my dumbest moves came several years ago. We decided to take a different car than the one we normally drove to our hunting land. I’d taken my bow out of the car to shoot a few arrows, and put it back in the car.

The dumb thing was I had transferred everything, including Kay’s bow, into the other car. Habit, being what it is, made me put my bow in the car we normally used. I dropped Kay off at her stand, and drove to where I would hunt.

I got my hunting clothes out, got dressed, grabbed my back pack, and started looking for my bow case. It was forehead slapping time as I remembered putting it in the other car.

I spent that afternoon and evening watching deer through my binoculars and spotting scope. It seemed as if all of them were laughing at me, but it was probably just a figment of my imagination.

Choosing between shooting or not shooting a buck

This nice buck pauses within easy bow range but I didn’t shoot

A hard northwest wind came moaning through the pines last fall, driving the snow horizontally across the newly whitened horizon, and making me wish for the comfort of home and hearth.

The pines were draped with snow, and only the foolish or hungry were afoot in this foul weather. I belonged to the first category, and was hoping a few deer from the second group would filter past my tree. My stand, 15 feet up a pine tree, offered a vast panoramic view of the nearby woods, tag alders and open feeding field. Several inches of new snow covered the ground, and a nearby tag alder thicket provided the only decent cover where deer could wait out the storm.

My glasses were almost useless because they were covered with melted snow, and periodic cleaning of my specs helped some, and the movement was necessary if I were to loose an arrow if and when a buck showed up.

It wasn’t a nice day that year to be out, but bucks were moving

The wind sliced through the nearby bedding area like a knife through warm butter. It came gusting across the field, sandblasting my face with hard snow, when a buck stepped hesitantly into view.

The 8-pointer seemed to have come from nowhere. The animal appeared like gray smoke scudding ahead of the wind, moving dark against white from the tag alders into the snow-covered open woodlot.

It traveled downwind, and stopped at random to check the wind, and then seemed to drift slowly across the whitened woodlot. It was the epitome of a whitetails strength to survive in all types of weather and ensure perpetuation of the species. Deer must be tough to survive for long in this type of weather.

It also was the stuff of calendar photos: a snowy scene, green topped pines and a motionless, majestic buck alertly surveying his surroundings. I raised my bow as the buck stepped methodically through the deepening snow to within 30 yards, knowing I wouldn’t shoot until it moved to within 15 yards and offered a high-percentage shot at a no-miss range.

It’s a close shot or nothing because of my vision problems

The buck began to forage, and conflicting thoughts sent electrical currents coursing through me. Live or die, it’s late in the second bow season. I may not have another opportunity to take a buck before the season finally ended.  Besides, it would be a tough drag for one man to get the animal out of the woods to where I could pull it to my car with the four-wheeler. It would be a back-breaking chore just to lift it into my vehicle.

Conflicting emotions offered the thrill of taking a nice 8-pointer while testing my mettle against a savage late-season snow storm. The buck fed closer, browsing on something just off the ground, and my mind was forcing me into a confrontation with myself over the sanity and wisdom of shooting or not shooting this buck.

Give in, and just do it, came one mental command. The flip side said no, it will be too tough physically and there will always be another opportunity.

Flip a coin or do something; I chose to pass on this buck

The buck solved my mental deliberations. It gradually fed into a thick tangle of second growth from a cutting made 10 years before, and it slowly disappeared from sight.

I trudged through the building snow to my vehicle, cased my bow, and prepared to head out. Within moments, the vehicle was filled with welcome warmth, and I calmly reflected on my ambivalence.

Was I too wishy-washy? Had I lost the killer instinct?

The questions pinged around like metal balls in a pinball machine. Minutes of inner reflection told me that the answer was a definitive no to both questions.

There’s something about a nasty storm, and hunting in bad weather, that satisfies my mental needs. There also is something about taking an animal’s life, or not taking it, that causes great deliberation. It’s easier to kill the animal than to allow it to walk away.

Granted, venison is one of my favorite meats. I take deer every year with bow, muzzleloader, rifle or shotgun, and each year I pass up many bucks that could have been harvested.

But, darn it, it feels good to let one live another year and to recall the decision many times over a long winter.

That’s why it was simple not to pull the trigger on my bow release. That decision made it easier to yank the four-wheel-drive lever into low-lock and ease down the rutted and slippery two-track for a snowy journey back to civilization where my decision to not shoot made even more sense.

The power of granting life or death over an animal had been satisfied once again, and this time, the buck lived to furnish many fine memories. The thoughts of passing on that buck will live longer in my mind than it would have if the buck had been killed.

Knowing I had made a wise decision based on my personal feelings and simple logic was enough to turn this hunt into a successful one.

Little Things can Change a Hunt

The result of good planning and the plan working out.

Many hunters think of bow hunting as a huge-antlered buck standing motionless at 20 yard with nothing but a few low-growing weeds and air between them and the deer.

This so-called calendar pose is what many short-term bow hunters expect to see while hunting. They’ve been conditioned over many years to expect such a shot, no matter how unrealistic it may be.

The same hunters seldom think of spotting a nice buck, his head held low, as it ghosts through a cedar swamp or tag alder tangle. The truth is that while an occasional shot is taken at a broadside, head-in-the-air buck, the reality is much different than what our imagination tells us is true.

The little things about bow hunting should tell us that a buck seldom offers an easy, open shot. Often, the animal is partially screened by brush or is standing in thick cover. Deer often stop when their vitals are screened by thick brush.

I’m not naive enough to believe they deliberately do so.

One of the little things that hunters must learn, and practice faithfully, is an extraordinary amount of patience. Hunters who get strung out by a motionless buck that doesn’t move are usually unprepared for a shot when the deer does move.

Patience is something all of us must believe in. It’s always better to sit motionless, and if the buck doesn’t move before shooting time ends, chalk it up to another night when the deer outsmarted the hunter. Such things happen far more often than most of us care to think about.

Sitting motionless and silent is far preferable than trying a Hail Mary shot that may make it through the brush to the buck’s vitals, but for whatever reason, it rarely does. Taking a low-percentage shot only educates or wounds deer.

There have been countless times when I’ve spent 30 minutes to one hour waiting for a good buck to move that last 10 feet to offer an open shot. More often than not, they refuse to budge and shooting time ends with the animal still standing motionless in thick cover, still looking around.

Another little thing to remember is to stay in your stand until the buck moves off by himself. Start crawling down out of a tree, and you’ll have ruined that stand for the rest of the year. Just hang tight, remain silent, and let him move when the mood strikes him. Wait for someone to come looking for you, and let them spook the deer rather than you doing so.

Building your patience level doesn’t occur overnight. It takes time and a great deal of practice, and blowing some possible shot opportunities, before you acquire the necessary skills to wait out a slow-moving deer.

Don’t do something stupid if the buck is slowly making his way to you. Perhaps you are in his travel route, and if you sit patiently, the buck may move to you. If you haven’t been calling, and suddenly start calling to a nearby deer, the animal may turn away. It may or may not spook, but if the deer keeps coming to silence, don’t introduce something new into the equation because it could backfire.

Be very cautious about dropping things. I’ve seen bucks and does stop 50 yards away because they saw something they don’t like. I once watched a buck come a long ways only to stop just out of easy bow range.

Why the buck stopped was beyond me, but stop he did, and he kept looking on the ground along the edge of a tag alder run between us. I studied him through binoculars, and tried to see what he was looking at, and it remained a big mystery.

He left without coming the 20 yards necessary to provide me with a clean shot within my established shooting distance. He walked off and soon disappeared, and as shooting time emded, I eased from the stand and walked over to that spot.

It took a moment of looking around but I found what had spooked the deer. A hunter had moved through that area while hunting grouse and woodcock near the alders, and apparently had shot at a bird.

I found an empty 12 gauge shotshell, and it was laying somewhat in the open where the setting sun would glint off the brass. It wasn’t much, but from where the buck had stood, there was still a tiny glint of sunlight there. The buck knew something was different, and turned and took another route out of the area.

It’s some of these little things that can make or break a bow hunt. Always be aware of what is going on around you during a hunt because it can affect how deer react.

Bow Quivers … On Or Off

Bow quiver on when shot is taken. Replace quiver after the shot.

Life is about making personal choices and decisions. None of us must do everything as others do. We can dare to be different if we choose.

This blog post applies to bow hunters. Every stick and string hunter worthy of the name has his or her way of doing things, and often they turn out right. We all learn from our best teacher, experience.

Bow quivers are a case in point. Should hunters leave the quiver on the bow while sitting in a stand and shooting or should they take the quiver off to minimize weight and to remove one unnecessary item that could easily tangle in tree limbs and mess up a shot?

Hunters swing both ways on bow quivers but not me.

I’ll go first, and throw my hat in the ring and voice my opinion. I climb into a tree stand after attaching my full-body safety harness to the tree and my body, I sit down, and use the haul rope to raise my bow from ground level. The bow quiver is then removed and placed elsewhere on the tree after an arrow is removed and then nocked. I often hang the quiver on a nearby limb where it will help break up my silhouette but be out of my way.

Once the quiver in hung, I unscrew the broadhead and attach my Game Tracer string behind the 100-grain FirstCut broadhead, and screw it into my Maxima carbon arrow shaft.

I attach the release to the bow string, stuff the lower limb of my C.P. Oneida Black Eagle bow into my left boot, and relax. I hunt and shoot sitting down, and my stands are positioned so bucks usually come from behind me and on my left side.

I shoot sitting down, and stow my bottom limb in my rubber boot.

If the buck follows his normal pattern, he will approach from behind and on my left side. I’m right-handed, so when the buck comes within bow range, and looks the other way, I start my draw and as I reach full draw, the lower limb clears my boot and is clear of my leg, the stand or any tree branches.

This allows for a minimum of movement, is very quiet, and oh so effective once a hunter becomes used to it. This method of drawing a bow wouldn’t be possible if my bow quiver was still attached.

The arrow shafts, vanes or even the quiver could get caught up in clothing, limbs or branches. But there is another reason why my quiver comes off my bow when I begin hunting.

It reduces the overall bow weight. Not much, mind you, but when hunting in a variety of locations, sooner or later a bow quiver is going to hang up on something. I remove all possibilities of that happening by taking it off and hanging it some place where it is out of my way.

I want my bow in my hands at all times with my release on the string.

Whenever I watch a television show, or hunt with someone who always leaves his or her quiver on their bow, it makes me wonder how many lost opportunities have occurred because of that quiver.

A bow is a one-shot piece of archery equipment. It’s not like hunting with a bolt, pump or semi-automatic firearm. Unless the wind is very strong and noisy, second shots at a buck are so rare as to almost be nonexistent.

A bow quiver on a bow, doesn’t speed up getting off a second shot at a deer. It is somewhat awkward to reach to the quiver, pull out another arrow, reach across the bow to nock the arrow and prepare to shoot. Chances are, any self-respecting buck with heavy headgear will be long gone if you miss the first shot.

I often use my bow to help camouflage my upper body and head. I wear a face mask while hunting, and can still turn the bow inside my left boot so the handle and upper limb breaks up my silhouette. If a deer offers a shot, a simple and slow half-turn of the wrist will point the bow toward the animal as the hunter comes to full draw.

A full draw should make your bow and arrow unencumbered by anything.

Such a movement may or may not be necessary, and that is a debatable point, but it would be impossible to do with a bow quiver attached. For me, that is a strong reason for removing the quiver.

Whenever I watch outdoor TV shows, each person is checked to determine if their quiver is on or off. It seems quite evenly divided as to their preference. Those who stand all the time usually have the quiver on while those who sit to shoot take the quiver off.

Many hunters, including some of the television hunters, hang their bow. A deer approaches, and they risk being caught by a sharp-eyed deer. Me, my preference is to hold my bow where there wasted movements that could spook the animal. Holding a bow with quiver attached becomes just too awkward to hold during the hunt.

The slight added weight of a bow quiver (even a three-arrow quiver like I use) can allow a hunter to unknowingly cant the bow to that side. Is it enough, under the pressure of a nearby buck, to throw the arrow off its intended course?

I don’t know and don’t care to test the theory. My preference is to shoot a bow unencumbered by a quiver. It’s my thought that it simplifies things, reduces weight, eliminates canting, drops a few ounces of weight and besides … it works for me.

Anyone willing to plead their case for keeping a bow quiver on a bow while hunting is encouraged to contact me. You won’t change your mind, I won’t change mine, but I’d love to hear your philosophy.

Camera or Bow: Which is best?

Photographing wild whitetail bucks requires as much skill as hunting them.

It was one of those great nights a few tears ago when the deer started moving early on a west wind, and continued filtering through my area until after dark. It presented me with a dilemma.

Should I shoot a buck with my compound bow or with a camera? The new Canon camera with a 300mm lens seemed to beckon hard and long for my use, and because it is newer than the bow, I left the bow in its case at home.

The first deer came along the edge of a funnel between two tag alder thickets. It was an adult doe, and lacking anything better to do, I watched her come for 200 yards. She stopped once, looked back, and hauled butt toward me and she was weaving in and out of the tags.

Knowing where to set up for taking good photos works just as well when hunting.

Her body language told me all I needed to know. She was trying to stay ahead of a trailing buck, and she squirted out in front of me. She stopped just out into the field, stood momentarily, and kept moving.

Two minutes later, as silent as a shadow, came the 8-point. He had five-inch brow tines, and had all the makings of a good buck with one more year on him. I clicked off several photos as he stepped out of the snowy alders where she had run out, and he trotted head-down to the place where she had stopped 15 yards from me, and came to a broadside halt.

I got another photo as he came to a stop, and he apparently didn’t hear the camera shutter clunk, but off he went in hot pursuit. Then minutes later two does and four button bucks and doe fawns passed, and they too were looking over their shoulder. I clicked a few photos of them passing by, and then all was silent and still for several minutes.

The wind was switching from southwest to west to northwest, and back again. My stand was perfect for the wind, and it gave me a good view of the funnel these deer were using. They often would step out into the field rather than cross the two-track trail in heavy cover.

There’s not a lot of traffic down this trail, and my stand was 150 yards from it. The deer seem to favor a more open view of the area rather than to be caught in heavy cover with a car coming. I found it a bit odd, but it seemed to be a local quirk of these animals.

A knowledge of deer habits is very important when shooting photographs.

A half-hour passed, and I could see a few deer across a wide-open field, and those animals were heading elsewhere. They weren’t heading in my direction.

Fifteen minutes before shooting time ended, a small doe was seen being chased by a spike, and she came busting down through the funnel, jumped out of the tag alders and never slowed down near me. The spike had twin six-inch daggers growing out of his head, and it’s possible the doe was more concerned about rough stuff with those spikes than being bred by him.

A minute later a pair of year-and-a-half-old bucks, one a 7-point and his buddy had 8 points, walked past my stand just inside the brush. I snapped some photos of them, and they were on their way.

A friend was coming to pick me up, and I stayed in my stand to await his arrival. His vehicle would spook away any deer, and it would help me avoid scaring off any deer within sight of my stand.

Having a friend walk or drive in to pick you up works great. They will be gone before you can get down.

Shooting light came and went, and I stowed my camera and sat quietly with binoculars in my hands. Two antlerless deer were seen 200 yards away, moving south and away from me, and as I sat waiting patiently, a buck slipped out of the brush and paused, 15 yards away.

I could see white atop his head, and what appeared to be a goodly amount of it. This buck came from out of nowhere, and he wasn’t seen until he was spotted standing there. He was upwind of me, and where he paused was where the doe had stopped.

He sniffed around, sorted out the odors of the doe, the other bucks and fawns, and headed into the tag alder funnel and disappeared from sight. He may have went north or south, but it was too dark to tell.

My buddy soon arrived, picked me up, and we discussed what photo ops each of had had. He had seen more deer than me, and he didn’t have a bow with him either.

Perhaps, another evening will be a bow night. I’m not terribly picky, but I’m always looking for something great. I may have to settle for an antlerless deer or two this year, but I don’t care. I’ve taken too many smaller bucks, and I’d just as soon take a doe as a small rack.

I’m not a trophy hunter. I’m a realist, and would rather see those small bucks grow into big bucks. A doe eats as well or better than a buck, and in the meantime, I can always shoot photos.