“Sleepy”

     It had been a really long day in the stand.... 9 hours to be exact. My phone buzzed with a text from another friend who was in a stand about 500 yards to the south on the same winter wheat field as me: 

"Seen anything?" 

"Not since lunch. You?" 

"Same. Phone is on 4% so I'll meet you at the truck after dark." 

     Sure enough, the long day had drained both of our phones' batteries. Shortly after, we were both without contact to the outside world. It was about 5:00 PM and all the I remember was thinking how bad it was going to suck to drag one out by myself.

     At 5:15 the woods started to come alive. The squirrels began to jump from tree to tree in search of acorns. The familiar old possum emerged for his nightly ritual of making hair stand on the back of public land hunters’ neck’s by sounding eerily similar to a giant buck walking through the leaves.  

     I was sitting in a big, old oak tree that was bordering a stretch of thick bedding cover. The bedding was separated from a long winter wheat field by 60 yards of timber. The wind was blowing a steady 5-10 mph in my face. I started to hear something creeping through the thicket to my right. The thicket is notorious for hiding old, mature whitetails (including a weary old buck named “King” that had slipped me multiple times over the years). A few moments later I saw what first looked to be a young 8 point. I pulled my binos out of my bag. When I got my binoculars on him I could see that it was actually an extremely old 8 point with a GIANT body. I turned and picked up my camera to hopefully get a few pictures of such an old buck. It was obvious that his antlers were now in regression from old age. At this point he was about 70 yards away and didn't look like he was coming in. I turned and threw a few grunts his way which all appeared to fall on deaf ears. The rut is just starting to pick up here but obviously not in full swing. He slowly made his way up edge of the bedding and disappeared into another thicket of timber.

     I sat down for about 45 seconds, hoping that the early sighting meant the evening was going to be an entertaining one. Not a minute later the old 8 that we later named "Sleepy" slowly made his way back out of the timber and headed  straight for my stand. Having the opportunity to harvest a buck of his age class on public land is a trophy in and of itself. I stood, grabbed my bow, and watch as he crept my way. When he got to 40 yards, I drew my bow in anticipation of him crossing into my shooting lane to the left. He came to about 30 yards, stopped, and looked around. I was holding full draw but his vitals were covered with a huge branch... no shot. Sleepy then turned to the left and walked 10 yards into a shooting gap I had that was the size of a dinner plate. I grunted at him and he stopped 25 yards away. I steadied the pins on his shoulder, took a breath and let the arrow fly.  The arrow found its mark right behind the shoulder and the expandable broadhead deployed with a loud "thud". The old 8 jumped, turned, and raced into the thick timber bedding with the arrow still sticking out his right side.

    I got down and started the hike back to the truck with my stand and pack. Two hours later after meeting up with my friend, we went to look for the old 8. There was not a drop of blood but we found the last 8 inches of the arrow broken off on a tree 20 yards down the trail. We crawled hands and knees in the brush for 45 minutes trying to find any blood, but there was not a drop. It was now pitch black out with only our head lamps to provide light. We decided to back out and wait until morning. 

    The choice to back out and give it a night is a difficult decision. That one night of waiting is one of the hardest things for a bow hunter. Thoughts flood your mind:

"Did I make a good shot?" 

"Did I hit it too high?" 

"Did I just wound a good buck?" 

     The negative thoughts and self doubt start to flood in. No matter how many practice arrows you shoot, or how many hours you slave away in the gym to be in the right shape for that moment; there are some things that are beyond your control. When you have to make the call to back out and wait until the morning to go look for a buck, nothing can stop the worry from occupying your mind. But that's part of bow hunting. You just have to make the best shot you can and hope that the arrow finds its mark... or misses. As the old Bow Hunter's Prayer goes:

"O Lord, I am a hunter
And life I seek to take
But let me not attempt the shot 
Beyond my skill to make
For Lord they are your creatures 
Given for our use
But each one falls within your sight 
They're not for our abuse
And when I loose my arrow 
Please guide it swift and true 
Or let it miss completely, Lord 
That pain be not undue
A clean kill or no kill, Lord 
Such is my heart's desire 
Give me the skill to make it so 
Or let me hold my fire
And when my time upon this earth
The days they are fulfilled 
Grant that I may die at least 
As clean as those I killed."

     The next morning the wind was forecasted to be 20 mph with 30 mph gusts. We decided to sleep in until 7 and then go look for the old buck. When we got out of the truck, we threw on our orange (it was the last day of muzzle loader) and filled up our packs with everything we might need.

     We started to follow the trail from where we found the broken arrow. Now that the sun was out, it was much easier to track. Bow hunting and tracking animals teaches you lots of things. With no blood on the ground, we had to look for the small, often missed details. Any leaves that had been kicked away, any broken branches, anything that might show us the way to this buck.

     We found a trail of prints that were obviously from a heavy deer running. We decided to spread out about 50 yards from each other and continue in the direction of that trail.

"Matt!" 

"Found him!" 

     Hearing those two words provided more relief than I can put in words. When we first laid eyes on that old buck, we were both amazed. This deer was well over 200 pounds, probably breaking 230 (field dressed 196ib). It was the biggest bodied deer I had ever harvested. We found him eyes closed and thanked the Lord for providing us with an amazing harvest and giving us this old buck to feed our family and friends. The rest is history... including the mile and a quarter drag out of the thick timber!!