Inside joke inbound.
So this weekend. I shot a doe. The deer itself wasn't impressive, but the hunt was quite memorable. Literally one of the most difficult hunts of my entire life. It's nothing short of a miracle that I persevered and succeeded against the almost insurmountable odds I faced.
First, I had to climb...a pine tree! With (shudders) a strap on ROS! It took a superhuman effort to secure it properly with my OCB.
Then, the deer came out on my WEAK SIDE. I was frantically trying to get my bow up and over my tether, severely hampered by that treacherous ROS that kept slipping and sliding on that loose-barked tree like a greased pig on ice skates. It sounded like an army of midgets wearing potato chip bags crawling through a pile of corn flakes. It took seven attempts to get the crossbow over the bridge.
Once that was done, I realized to my horror that my broadhead was not the 165 grain, 1095 carbon tool steel machete that I had intended to bring, but a simple 100 grain chisel tip Rage. I almost considered letting the doe walk, rather than run the risk of putting such a terrible projectile in her general direction. To make matters worse, she was QUARTERING TOWARDS ME!!
Barely able to settle the crosshairs thanks to the constant movement of the strap on ring of steps, I said a quick prayer and jerked the trigger.
Luck favored me, because the deer was found dead 20 yards from where I lost sight of her.
Y'all be good.
So this weekend. I shot a doe. The deer itself wasn't impressive, but the hunt was quite memorable. Literally one of the most difficult hunts of my entire life. It's nothing short of a miracle that I persevered and succeeded against the almost insurmountable odds I faced.
First, I had to climb...a pine tree! With (shudders) a strap on ROS! It took a superhuman effort to secure it properly with my OCB.
Then, the deer came out on my WEAK SIDE. I was frantically trying to get my bow up and over my tether, severely hampered by that treacherous ROS that kept slipping and sliding on that loose-barked tree like a greased pig on ice skates. It sounded like an army of midgets wearing potato chip bags crawling through a pile of corn flakes. It took seven attempts to get the crossbow over the bridge.
Once that was done, I realized to my horror that my broadhead was not the 165 grain, 1095 carbon tool steel machete that I had intended to bring, but a simple 100 grain chisel tip Rage. I almost considered letting the doe walk, rather than run the risk of putting such a terrible projectile in her general direction. To make matters worse, she was QUARTERING TOWARDS ME!!
Barely able to settle the crosshairs thanks to the constant movement of the strap on ring of steps, I said a quick prayer and jerked the trigger.
Luck favored me, because the deer was found dead 20 yards from where I lost sight of her.
Y'all be good.