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 Like Paul
Harvey Says, “and now the rest of the story.”
By, Dave Wamer
11 hours is a long time to spend
sitting in a treestand.
My body felt the ache of the previous days hunt in which I spent
the day in a stand. However, I was back on stand and willing to
put in another 11-12 hour day. I heard steps in the leaves off
to my right and looked up slowly in that direction. I saw legs
of a deer and then a head...
This hunt was taking place at Croft State Park in SC on a bow
only draw hunt where there are some monster deer. We had been to
this area several weeks before to walk around and do some
scouting. That scouting trip started as an adventure itself as
we ran into Mr. “No Shoulders” Copperhead as we were getting out
of the truck. Lankyman, Rustyfan, SBEhunter and myself covered a
lot of ground that day searching for a spot to stick a big one.
Not one spot really stuck out until near the end of our trip.
The thunderstorms rolled in as we headed up from a creek bottom
back towards the trucks.
We followed a ridge line that
looked promising and came to the top where a small saddle 30-50
yards long connected to the adjacent ridge before dropping off
the other side into a ravine. The saddle and ridge tops were
mixed with white oaks and pines with a thick growth of
understory that would allow deer to feel secure while moving
from ridge to ridge. It looked difficult to bow hunt, with few
shooting lanes from only a couple of trees big enough to climb.
The place just felt like deer. There was food from the oaks and
muscadines, easy access to water, thick cover for secure travel
and it was no easy task for anyone to stumble on from the road.
I liked it and planned on being back with bow in hand.
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The first day was uneventful,
long and hot with little activity. Since my scouting trip a
few weeks earlier, a buck had visited a holly type tree 20
yards in front of me and left a small scrape as his calling
card. The oaks were dropping acorns as squirrels danced from
limb to limb driving me nuts all day long. The wind was
right and blowing west to east across my front. I was just
short of the top of the saddle facing south towards a large
creek. I could not see the creek, which was 150-200 yards
away due to thick growth. However, I had a good 75-100 yard
view of the two ridges coming from the creek bottom that
were joined in front of me by this narrow land bridge. I
passed the time with some cheese crackers and a few chapters
of a book. |
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Finally, I saw movement and saw a deer approaching. I glanced at my watch
and thought that it was odd for them to be
moving at 3:30 in the afternoon as warm as it
was. I was ready for the showdown regardless of
the time and slowly reached for my bow. I could
not tell if the deer had antlers yet and I
slowly stood up as the deer walked behind a
large tree. The deer began to turn from me and
walked over the ridge. Quickly, I rolled the can
over to try and bleat and attract the attention
of the quickly leaving deer. She stopped, poked
her head up, and looked straight in my
direction. After a short search, she could not
see the deer that was making the noise and
resumed her march across the ridge. I tried the
bleat again. This time her reaction was one of
nervousness and the bleat caused her to trot off
without looking back. It was early, and now I
had some newfound anticipation, there were deer
using this area. Much to my disappointment, I
did not see another deer that evening. A smile
did cap off the day as several turkeys flew up
to roost along the ridge to my right and I
thought of the days end bringing me one day
closer to turkey season.
In the stand at 0515, the second day began as most with a lively
transition from dark to light as the creatures of the woods
awoke to meet the new day. Wish I could say the same for me. The
second straight day of waking at 0330 was getting to me. I could
barely keep my eyes open in the comfort of my stand. I fought
off the sleep and managed to stay alert ready for a deer at any
minute. They would not come, no signs of deer moving at first
light, nor as the sun crested the tree tops. Hmm, I was looking
at another long, long day in the tree. It was the last day of
the hunt and I was not coming down from the tree until oh, dark
thirty that night. Just after 8 O’clock I caught movement to my
left and saw a deer coming over the ridge on the same trail as
the deer from the previous night. I glimpsed antlers and thought
it to be a 4 or 5 point. I gently raised into position and
prepared for the shot. The deer turned down towards the creek
bottom and headed away from me, not responding to bleat or
grunts. I settled back in and patiently waited.
This deer had antlers! The deer was moving towards me acting
like a vacuum cleaner while he scooped up acorns as he eased
down the trail. I glanced at my watch and it was 1138. I
wondered if this was the same buck I had seen earlier this
morning. I grabbed my bow from the hanger and turned to position
for the shot. The buck was coming down towards the saddle with
the wind at his tail. I only had a few shooting lanes, but he
was going to maintain a course that took him down a trail from
my right to left and broadside at 20-25 yards. I watched him
pass by the first lane, still not quite broadside and not the
shot I wanted. He paused next to the scrape and raised his nose
as to check and see who was visiting and then continued to
slowly on his path. I came to draw as he passed behind a clump
of brush and a small tree. I was in his backyard and the buck
never knew it. Just as I quickly thought of my anchor point and
did the quick mental check, the buck stepped into the shooting
lane. It was almost a grunt and shot at the same time. The buck
was just starting to quarter away as the broadhead hit the pump
with the crack and slap as the arrow met its target. The deer
kicked wildly like a donkey, my first thought was it was a heart
shot and he wouldn’t make it far. The buck dropped his rear like
a dog scratching his butt on the ground and then staggered as he
tried to run up the ridge. No luck! He was loosing senses
quickly and was stumbling down the side of the ridge with each
step he took during the death run. I lost sight of him in a pine
tree blow down 75-100 yards away as I heard him crash. Quickly,
I scanned the ground for my arrow as I realized my heart was
beating so fast I could see my glasses rise up and down with my
pulse beat. The arrow was laying just where I had shot him, I
glassed the area with binos and saw good blood on the arrow and
the ground around it.
I packed up my things and decided to climb down and take my
stuff halfway back to the truck before searching for the deer.
No sense in rushing things. I had the rest of the day to find
him and haul him out. Heck, there were several hills to cross
and it was time to go find some dragging help anyway. I climbed
down, checked the arrow and the sign, and felt good about the
shot. There was bubbly, lung shot looking blood all over the
arrow. I headed towards the truck realizing that my radio was in
it. At the top of the next hill I hooted to rustyfan who had
been hunting 150-200 yards from me. He hooted back and I eased
over to tell him the news and get his help. Roughly 45 minutes
later we were back at the base of my tree and ready to find the
deer. The trail was easy to follow, blood heavy in most places
and we never had to stop and really look for it. As we eased
down the hill, Paul said “is that him”, but I could not tell
from my vantage point. “Yeah, its him, there he is” Paul said as
he walked up on the deer that had collapsed in the blow down
pine that I had seen from the treestand. He was down and we took
a minute to give thanks, look over the deer, share a smoke, and
think about the long drag we had ahead of us with this deer.
The hunt ended with great results. Not only because I shot a
deer, but because of the people I was with. I spent time in camp
with a fella that is like another father to me, Treeclimber. I
shared the struggle of dragging a deer from the woods in
unbearable heat and miserable flies with a buddy that is always
there for me, Rustyfan. And, I shared camp, scouting, stories,
and another day hunting with my best friend, Lankyman.
Life is great, thanks for letting me share my story.
Dave Wamer
Copyright September 2003
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