Last week I got a chance to check something off my list that has been there for a long time. I harvested a deer with my bow. This is a fly fishing blog, but indulge me for a minute. A change of pace is good thing now and then.
Last year was the first time I had ever really hunted, despite a lifetime of wanting to do it. All of that was with a rifle, but this year I wanted to try with a bow and arrow. Archery is one of those things that has always interested me. It shares a lot of the same aspects as fly fishing: challenge, skill, and a degree of finesse. So this spring I purchased a bow and have been practicing and getting ready for the season ever since.
I’ve been out a few times so far this year, and on two occasions got within 50 yards of deer. But Shane and I decided to head down to a money spot that has been good to us both in the past. This particular spot is river bottomlands with a large open field, and some trees that make a perfect ambush spot.
So there we sat. Each of us on a different end of the property, sitting silently and waiting. That’s another thing that archery hunting and fly fishing have in common. Patience is a necessity. Your next cast might yield the biggest fish of the year, and waiting an extra five minutes in your deer spot might bring that big buck out into the open.
For two hours, nothing much happened. One little fawn walked less than 10 yards from me, completely oblivious to my presence. A hen pheasant rustled around in the bushes across the clearing. Being quiet and still out in the woods gets you closer to nature than you might think.
Finally, two deer stepped out right where I hoped they would. The bigger doe of the two turned broadside at 25 yards and although she looked right at me as I drew my bow, she didn’t run. What happened next I don’t think I’ll ever forget. The sound of my shot seemed incredibly loud in the still evening air, and as she turned to run back through the trees I could see I’d hit her.
My hands were shaking so badly, and my heart was pounding as I realized I had just shot a deer with my bow.
A couple minutes went by before I climbed out of the cluster of trees I was hiding in and checked the ground where she had been. There was a clear blood trail, and my arrow was sitting not too far away, dark with blood. Maybe half an hour went by before I found Shane. Not saying a word as I walked up, I handed him the bloody arrow and watched his face light up. Having a friend who gets that excited for you is a pretty cool thing.
For the next several hours, we crawled through the field, on hands and knees on occasion, looking for drops of blood. It’s a lot harder than it sounds. We trailed her down the riverbank, across a channel of the river, through a very densely thicketed island, and finally found her. I don’t think I have ever been more relieved. She expired right in the middle of the river. By far and away, she was the biggest catch of my life in any river, ha.
A word of caution: Don’t go traipsing around a river bottom at night without a GPS or some sort of navigational aid. It’s easier to get turned around than you might think.
By the time the pictures were taken, the deer was quartered and loaded in my backpack, and the congratulatory pats on the back were given, it was pretty late. A storm was moving on just south of us, and the lightning was pretty amazing to watch. Four quarters of deer and the rest of the good meat was more weight than I’m used to carrying, but it felt damn good.
It was one of those nights that I’ll never forget. Sharing it with a good friend made it even better. Now there is fresh meat in the freezer and I’ve got a good story. This is why I love fall.
Photos by Shane Rickert
