solo_archer
Member
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2019
- Messages
- 95
Setting the Scene
A week had passed since my last hunt and it was Friday afternoon again. The sky was clear except for a few clouds and the sun’s rays beamed down from the west, piercing every gap of space between the trees.
The air was crisp and the ground was covered in the browns, yellows, and reds of fall foliage.
I was 20 feet up a pine tree which had dark, scaly bark that flaked off on my ascent. Two does walked past this tree on my last hunt, but I was too far away that time to take a shot. That feeling of ‘what if’ gnawed at me all week and I was fixated on being in the right spot this time.
I scanned the area and was satisfied with the ratio of cover to shooting lanes my surroundings provided.
The wind started to blow. In response, the trees and branches begrudgingly swayed with its gentle gusts. The wind died down and the forest grew quiet. I listened.
Everything was still, so I leaned back, settled in...and waited.
She Appears
My hands were cold.
About two hours had passed and the briskness of the air had started to chill the skin on my hands.
I didn’t have gloves so I tucked my hands underneath my armpits trying to keep them warm that way. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked well enough.
My eyes were growing tired. I yawned now and again, each one reminding me how little sleep I had the night before. I tried leaning over to rest my head and close my eyes, but the carabiner attached to my bridge from my tether didn’t allow me to get comfortable. I forced my eyes open, tricking myself into believing the more I blinked the less tired I’d be.
I listened for a rustle in the brush or any sound other than those birds that kept fluttering from branch to branch.
I scanned my right...nothing.
I scanned my left...nothing.
I scanned ahead...wait.
I squinted my eyes and tried to get a better look at what I thought I saw.
About 50 yards away, there was faint movement by the base of a tree. There was brush all over and I couldn’t make out what it was. It could’ve been the wind, it could’ve been a deer, or it could’ve been nothing at all. After a bit, I settled on it being nothing at all.
Then I saw it again and this time there was no mistaking it. A brown head looked up and just as quickly as it appeared it ducked back down behind the leaves again.
My ears perked up. My eyes zeroed in. My left hand slowly started reaching for my bow. The doe’s ear flickered.
She Approaches
The distance was closing.
The doe was getting closer and closer and it slowly worked its way through the trees. To my surprise, she wasn’t alone.
Right behind her was a friend; another doe, more slender, more youthful in appearance. While the older doe was wearier in her feeding, the younger doe perkily moved from sapling to sapling.
All of a sudden, I felt exposed.
The does were directly in front of me, about 30 yards away and coming right towards me. “How could they not see me?”, I thought to myself. I look nothing like a tree. This bow in my left hand looked nothing like a branch. I was sure to be spotted.
But the moments passed and they kept getting closer. 20 yards away now.
The young doe pulled up ahead of the older doe and was now coming within range. They had slightly changed direction and instead of coming right for me, were now walking at a 45-degree angle towards my 10 o’clock.
There was just the right amount of small trees to provide enough cover for me to draw my bow. But I had a dilemma.
Although the young doe was closer and within shooting range, I couldn’t draw without the older doe behind it noticing me. My fingers felt stiff. I moved them around to loosen them up and waited.
After a few minutes, the older doe lagged behind and started feeding behind another tree. Its body and head were completely covered and there was no way it could see me now.
I turned my gaze to the younger doe and it was still feeding at my 10 o’clock only 20 yards away. The young doe was quartering away and I knew this was it. It was time to line up and draw.
I slowly started raising my bow. My right hand was already on my thumb release and I could feel the tension of the string go from the release into my fingers and forearm. I started to pull back.
Staredown
Just as I started to draw, I caught a movement out of the corner of my right eye.
Without moving my head, I turned my gaze to the right and there out in the open was the older doe. It was no longer feeding and it was definitely no longer standing behind that tree.
Instead, both of its eyes were locked on me and it was intently staring me down.
I couldn’t move. My heart started beating faster and the muscles in my body tensed.
Minutes passed and the older doe still hadn’t moved. It was still looking up waiting for me to make a mistake; waiting for me to confirm its suspicion. I was afraid to blink.
The older doe turned its head away from me and just as quickly snapped it right back in my direction. It was baiting me, daring me to move. My left shoulder started to burn.
It turned its head away again and snapped it back one more time. It kept staring me down.
I lost track of how much time had passed. The doe turned its head once but this time it flicked its tail and started walking away. I could finally breathe again.
The Perfect Shot
The older doe followed the same path that the younger doe did. It ducked its head down to nibble, would look up and then duck down to nibble again.
I couldn’t believe this was happening, everything was clicking into place. A week ago, I was kicking myself for not trusting my instincts and setting up farther than I should have. Now I was in the right spot at the right time with a doe lining up perfectly on my strong side.
I waited patiently, not wanting to ruin this opportunity after coming so close to being busted a few minutes before.
Just ahead of the doe were two small trees. The plan was to wait for her to walk behind those trees, draw my bow and then wait for her to step out on the other side. As soon as she did, I would have the ideal broadside shot. I couldn’t have asked for a better setup.
After a minute, the doe took a step behind the trees. I watched the tip of her nose and then her head and neck disappear behind the trunk.
I raised my bow and drew back in one quiet, swift motion. I felt the let off of the cams and lined up the peep to my eye.
The doe stepped out.
She was broadside and turned her head towards me but I wasn’t worried. She didn’t look nervous and just seemed to be taking in her surroundings.
She took a step to her right and now she was quartering away. She lowered her head toward some leaves and I was no longer in her line of sight. This was it.
As cliche as it sounds, it felt like time had slowed. As I was lining up the shot, I whispered to myself, “Put the 20 on it, put the 20 on it, put the 20 on it.” My sight wavered and the pins floated from side to side before I finally settled the 20-yard pin just where I wanted it.
And then all of a sudden, time sped up. One moment I was 110% ready to take the shot with my 20-yard pin and the next moment, another voice convinced me that the doe was farther than I thought.
“You’re going to shoot low. You’re going to miss. Put the 30 on it,” the voice said. It was right, what was I thinking? I was 20 feet up in the air, there was no way I’d hit this doe with my 20-yard pin.
I titled my body up a bit and could hear the seconds ticking by, each moment pushing me further away from harvesting this doe. My pins floated from side to side again and this time I settled the 30-yard pin just where I wanted it.
I slowly let out my breath and my release went off. The timing couldn’t have been better.
I followed the arrow with my eyes waiting for it to make an impact.
It got closer…
And closer…
And closer…
And finally sailed a foot over the doe’s back and crashed into the brush behind her. The deafening sound sent her into a full sprint and she darted away. She stopped after about 20 yards, looked back, and disappeared into the woods.
I missed.
Sunset
When the sun went down and shooting light was over, there was nothing more to do but gather my things and leave.
As I walked out of the forest, I paused and let out a breath.
It was a good day.
A week had passed since my last hunt and it was Friday afternoon again. The sky was clear except for a few clouds and the sun’s rays beamed down from the west, piercing every gap of space between the trees.
The air was crisp and the ground was covered in the browns, yellows, and reds of fall foliage.
I was 20 feet up a pine tree which had dark, scaly bark that flaked off on my ascent. Two does walked past this tree on my last hunt, but I was too far away that time to take a shot. That feeling of ‘what if’ gnawed at me all week and I was fixated on being in the right spot this time.
I scanned the area and was satisfied with the ratio of cover to shooting lanes my surroundings provided.
The wind started to blow. In response, the trees and branches begrudgingly swayed with its gentle gusts. The wind died down and the forest grew quiet. I listened.
Everything was still, so I leaned back, settled in...and waited.
She Appears
My hands were cold.
About two hours had passed and the briskness of the air had started to chill the skin on my hands.
I didn’t have gloves so I tucked my hands underneath my armpits trying to keep them warm that way. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked well enough.
My eyes were growing tired. I yawned now and again, each one reminding me how little sleep I had the night before. I tried leaning over to rest my head and close my eyes, but the carabiner attached to my bridge from my tether didn’t allow me to get comfortable. I forced my eyes open, tricking myself into believing the more I blinked the less tired I’d be.
I listened for a rustle in the brush or any sound other than those birds that kept fluttering from branch to branch.
I scanned my right...nothing.
I scanned my left...nothing.
I scanned ahead...wait.
I squinted my eyes and tried to get a better look at what I thought I saw.
About 50 yards away, there was faint movement by the base of a tree. There was brush all over and I couldn’t make out what it was. It could’ve been the wind, it could’ve been a deer, or it could’ve been nothing at all. After a bit, I settled on it being nothing at all.
Then I saw it again and this time there was no mistaking it. A brown head looked up and just as quickly as it appeared it ducked back down behind the leaves again.
My ears perked up. My eyes zeroed in. My left hand slowly started reaching for my bow. The doe’s ear flickered.
She Approaches
The distance was closing.
The doe was getting closer and closer and it slowly worked its way through the trees. To my surprise, she wasn’t alone.
Right behind her was a friend; another doe, more slender, more youthful in appearance. While the older doe was wearier in her feeding, the younger doe perkily moved from sapling to sapling.
All of a sudden, I felt exposed.
The does were directly in front of me, about 30 yards away and coming right towards me. “How could they not see me?”, I thought to myself. I look nothing like a tree. This bow in my left hand looked nothing like a branch. I was sure to be spotted.
But the moments passed and they kept getting closer. 20 yards away now.
The young doe pulled up ahead of the older doe and was now coming within range. They had slightly changed direction and instead of coming right for me, were now walking at a 45-degree angle towards my 10 o’clock.
There was just the right amount of small trees to provide enough cover for me to draw my bow. But I had a dilemma.
Although the young doe was closer and within shooting range, I couldn’t draw without the older doe behind it noticing me. My fingers felt stiff. I moved them around to loosen them up and waited.
After a few minutes, the older doe lagged behind and started feeding behind another tree. Its body and head were completely covered and there was no way it could see me now.
I turned my gaze to the younger doe and it was still feeding at my 10 o’clock only 20 yards away. The young doe was quartering away and I knew this was it. It was time to line up and draw.
I slowly started raising my bow. My right hand was already on my thumb release and I could feel the tension of the string go from the release into my fingers and forearm. I started to pull back.
Staredown
Just as I started to draw, I caught a movement out of the corner of my right eye.
Without moving my head, I turned my gaze to the right and there out in the open was the older doe. It was no longer feeding and it was definitely no longer standing behind that tree.
Instead, both of its eyes were locked on me and it was intently staring me down.
I couldn’t move. My heart started beating faster and the muscles in my body tensed.
Minutes passed and the older doe still hadn’t moved. It was still looking up waiting for me to make a mistake; waiting for me to confirm its suspicion. I was afraid to blink.
The older doe turned its head away from me and just as quickly snapped it right back in my direction. It was baiting me, daring me to move. My left shoulder started to burn.
It turned its head away again and snapped it back one more time. It kept staring me down.
I lost track of how much time had passed. The doe turned its head once but this time it flicked its tail and started walking away. I could finally breathe again.
The Perfect Shot
The older doe followed the same path that the younger doe did. It ducked its head down to nibble, would look up and then duck down to nibble again.
I couldn’t believe this was happening, everything was clicking into place. A week ago, I was kicking myself for not trusting my instincts and setting up farther than I should have. Now I was in the right spot at the right time with a doe lining up perfectly on my strong side.
I waited patiently, not wanting to ruin this opportunity after coming so close to being busted a few minutes before.
Just ahead of the doe were two small trees. The plan was to wait for her to walk behind those trees, draw my bow and then wait for her to step out on the other side. As soon as she did, I would have the ideal broadside shot. I couldn’t have asked for a better setup.
After a minute, the doe took a step behind the trees. I watched the tip of her nose and then her head and neck disappear behind the trunk.
I raised my bow and drew back in one quiet, swift motion. I felt the let off of the cams and lined up the peep to my eye.
The doe stepped out.
She was broadside and turned her head towards me but I wasn’t worried. She didn’t look nervous and just seemed to be taking in her surroundings.
She took a step to her right and now she was quartering away. She lowered her head toward some leaves and I was no longer in her line of sight. This was it.
As cliche as it sounds, it felt like time had slowed. As I was lining up the shot, I whispered to myself, “Put the 20 on it, put the 20 on it, put the 20 on it.” My sight wavered and the pins floated from side to side before I finally settled the 20-yard pin just where I wanted it.
And then all of a sudden, time sped up. One moment I was 110% ready to take the shot with my 20-yard pin and the next moment, another voice convinced me that the doe was farther than I thought.
“You’re going to shoot low. You’re going to miss. Put the 30 on it,” the voice said. It was right, what was I thinking? I was 20 feet up in the air, there was no way I’d hit this doe with my 20-yard pin.
I titled my body up a bit and could hear the seconds ticking by, each moment pushing me further away from harvesting this doe. My pins floated from side to side again and this time I settled the 30-yard pin just where I wanted it.
I slowly let out my breath and my release went off. The timing couldn’t have been better.
I followed the arrow with my eyes waiting for it to make an impact.
It got closer…
And closer…
And closer…
And finally sailed a foot over the doe’s back and crashed into the brush behind her. The deafening sound sent her into a full sprint and she darted away. She stopped after about 20 yards, looked back, and disappeared into the woods.
I missed.
Sunset
When the sun went down and shooting light was over, there was nothing more to do but gather my things and leave.
As I walked out of the forest, I paused and let out a breath.
It was a good day.
