OK this deer hunting stuff sounds fun but holy CRAP it's a lot of work.
I went out to my spot this morning. IMMEDIATELY saw what appeared to be a fairly big doe after I got in to position. Then another. Then they got in to my lane.
I shouldered my crossbow, estimated the difference, breathed... relaxed, pulled the trigger. It seemed to take a year for my arrow to get to the deer.
Then everything happened SOOO FAST.
I know I nailed him, but I also saw that I hit a little low.
My deer ran across the field, up in to the hills, and fell back down in to some brush. I figured "hell yeah!", nice clean kill. I put the bow down, reach for my belt, and realized I'd forgot my knife. So I mark the location good, can see the deer laying there about 80 yards off.
I get back with my knife, get to the spot, and find nothing but a blood pile.
Sonofa..
We had a fairly fresh snowfall so the blood trail is easy to follow. PRODIGIOUS blood trail, splatter, signs of coughing. I figure as fast as this deer is bleeding out this shouldn't be a long chase.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Every 50 yards or so I'd find where it coughed, or laid down for a minute. I caught sight of it a half dozen times. Always about 80 yards off, or so. It was watching me. I had to leave my bow behind when I crossed property lines so I had no choice but to wait it out (it never let me get a clean shot anyway).
I tracked him through the hills. Through the fields. Through the forest. Signs of coughing. Heavy blood flow. Blood sign everywhere. wasn't hard to follow, although I almost lost the trail quite a few times where there wasn't any snow. Had to back track about a half dozen times and find the trail again. A few times I had to search a while until I found it.
After over an hour and a half of hiking, I get to the edge of a corn field and BOOM. Jumps up and bounds off, like nothing ever happened. Fast as can be.
I figure he's not mortally wounded. Decide to come home, sad, and depressed.
I'm sitting here 15 minutes and figure... no. He's lost too much blood. There's no way in HELL he's going to survive.
So I got my boots back on and went out again. Hiked from my house a mile or so back to where I left off at, picked up where I left off, and found him 30 yards away in grass at the edge of the field. Thought he was dead. NOPE! Off he goes again.
One tough sonofa...
At this point I'm determined just to run him down. So off in to the hills we go... I run after him. He bounds ahead, then lays down. Each time I have to run less.. and less.. I'm closing on him. I finally wore him down to the point I could get close to him.
I reach for my knife. Left it at home...
I had to finish him off with my bare hands. I tried to grab him - he jumped up and I about peed myself. So I broke off a big sturdy 3" wide stick, that's about 3 foot long.
I get close to him again.
Hit him three times with the big stick, in the head. Broke the damn stick. He's dazed but still alive.
So I figure I'd break his neck. It looks easy enough in the movies, right?
No. Spun his head around 360 degrees and no snap.
So I sat on him, and choked the buck to death with my bare hands.
I tell you something. It was primal. I'll remember that moment until my dying day.
As if I wasn't tired enough... Then the REAL work began. I'm a LONG way from home, on foot, in steep hills, with no knife, no rope, no NOTHING. So I grabbed his rear feet and drug him.
Rest. Drag. Rest. Drag. Rest. Drag.
I had to haul him over a half mile to the edge of a clearing. Barbed wire fence stopped me, couldn't get him over it. Walk a half mile back to my home. Get my garden cart. Walk back with my 16 year old boy. Junior helps me get him over the barbed wire fence.
I can barely stand at this point. And I haven't even started butchering him yet. (Was a young buck, I actually thought it was a doe until I'd killed it and found his ding dong between his legs... little nubs for antlers. Weighed about 150-160 lbs.)
So I find that butchering an animal of that size, alone, is not easy. I'd never done it before. I managed to cut off all the meat. Didn't break any guts open on anything (didn't bother to gut it. Took the back strips off, quartered it, cut all the meat off the legs.)
Hauled the carcass out back a quarter mile behind my place, for the 'yotes to eat.
Wash the meat.. wash the meat more.. wash the meat some more...
Then I cut off a couple small steaks and I ate something I killed with my bare hands.
Now... I rest while the meat firms up a little in the deep freeze so I can finish making steaks.
Will post pics when I find my phone cable.
I went out to my spot this morning. IMMEDIATELY saw what appeared to be a fairly big doe after I got in to position. Then another. Then they got in to my lane.
I shouldered my crossbow, estimated the difference, breathed... relaxed, pulled the trigger. It seemed to take a year for my arrow to get to the deer.
Then everything happened SOOO FAST.
I know I nailed him, but I also saw that I hit a little low.
My deer ran across the field, up in to the hills, and fell back down in to some brush. I figured "hell yeah!", nice clean kill. I put the bow down, reach for my belt, and realized I'd forgot my knife. So I mark the location good, can see the deer laying there about 80 yards off.
I get back with my knife, get to the spot, and find nothing but a blood pile.
Sonofa..
We had a fairly fresh snowfall so the blood trail is easy to follow. PRODIGIOUS blood trail, splatter, signs of coughing. I figure as fast as this deer is bleeding out this shouldn't be a long chase.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Every 50 yards or so I'd find where it coughed, or laid down for a minute. I caught sight of it a half dozen times. Always about 80 yards off, or so. It was watching me. I had to leave my bow behind when I crossed property lines so I had no choice but to wait it out (it never let me get a clean shot anyway).
I tracked him through the hills. Through the fields. Through the forest. Signs of coughing. Heavy blood flow. Blood sign everywhere. wasn't hard to follow, although I almost lost the trail quite a few times where there wasn't any snow. Had to back track about a half dozen times and find the trail again. A few times I had to search a while until I found it.
After over an hour and a half of hiking, I get to the edge of a corn field and BOOM. Jumps up and bounds off, like nothing ever happened. Fast as can be.
I figure he's not mortally wounded. Decide to come home, sad, and depressed.
I'm sitting here 15 minutes and figure... no. He's lost too much blood. There's no way in HELL he's going to survive.
So I got my boots back on and went out again. Hiked from my house a mile or so back to where I left off at, picked up where I left off, and found him 30 yards away in grass at the edge of the field. Thought he was dead. NOPE! Off he goes again.
One tough sonofa...
At this point I'm determined just to run him down. So off in to the hills we go... I run after him. He bounds ahead, then lays down. Each time I have to run less.. and less.. I'm closing on him. I finally wore him down to the point I could get close to him.
I reach for my knife. Left it at home...
I had to finish him off with my bare hands. I tried to grab him - he jumped up and I about peed myself. So I broke off a big sturdy 3" wide stick, that's about 3 foot long.
I get close to him again.
Hit him three times with the big stick, in the head. Broke the damn stick. He's dazed but still alive.
So I figure I'd break his neck. It looks easy enough in the movies, right?
No. Spun his head around 360 degrees and no snap.
So I sat on him, and choked the buck to death with my bare hands.
I tell you something. It was primal. I'll remember that moment until my dying day.
As if I wasn't tired enough... Then the REAL work began. I'm a LONG way from home, on foot, in steep hills, with no knife, no rope, no NOTHING. So I grabbed his rear feet and drug him.
Rest. Drag. Rest. Drag. Rest. Drag.
I had to haul him over a half mile to the edge of a clearing. Barbed wire fence stopped me, couldn't get him over it. Walk a half mile back to my home. Get my garden cart. Walk back with my 16 year old boy. Junior helps me get him over the barbed wire fence.
I can barely stand at this point. And I haven't even started butchering him yet. (Was a young buck, I actually thought it was a doe until I'd killed it and found his ding dong between his legs... little nubs for antlers. Weighed about 150-160 lbs.)
So I find that butchering an animal of that size, alone, is not easy. I'd never done it before. I managed to cut off all the meat. Didn't break any guts open on anything (didn't bother to gut it. Took the back strips off, quartered it, cut all the meat off the legs.)
Hauled the carcass out back a quarter mile behind my place, for the 'yotes to eat.
Wash the meat.. wash the meat more.. wash the meat some more...
Then I cut off a couple small steaks and I ate something I killed with my bare hands.
Now... I rest while the meat firms up a little in the deep freeze so I can finish making steaks.
Will post pics when I find my phone cable.