Headed out in 2D this evening with my 9 year old son for the first hunt of the year. About to pull into my buddy's a mile down the road, and I realized I forgot to get him his mentored tag. Called the local sporting goods store, and had 9 minutes to make the 6.5 mile drive before they closed at 5:30 and got there at 5:29. Whew.
Tough to remember all ya gotta remember when you're getting ready to take a kid hunting.
Set up the pop up blind on a field edge (planted in soybeans this year) near a corner that's been good to my 15 year old son the past 2 years with a doe and a 4 pt. (he's outta state for the weekend with my wife and daughter). As soon as we got settled 2 does were peeking at us from 70 yards away on the distant wood line, and they moseyed off.
My 9 year old is much more patient fishing than he is sitting and waiting for deer, but he hung in there pretty well. I told him stories about taking his big brother hunting on this property. Told him if he farted again every deer around was gonna high tail it outta there. We had fun, and when we had about a half hour of daylight left, we got a little more serious.
A BIG deer with it's head down stepped out of the woods about 50 yards away and went straight into the beans to feed, just over a little curve in the field. Seated in the blind, we couldn't see it. Soon another big deer followed. After about 30 seconds, one of em popped its head up and it was a big old doe. We had talked before the hunt that tonight would be only bucks, but when ya gotta a 9 year old begging to shoot if she came close enough and the size of this doe, ya can't say no.
Man, whoever came up with the idea of the mentored hunt sure wanted to challenge the skills of the mentor. Keeping a kid from jumping out of his skin, while he's steadying a crossbow on shooting sticks in a blind, and you've got one eye on the deer, another on the kid, one hand on the shooting sticks, and trying to find the right moment to click off the safety with the other hand sure ain't an easy task. Fortunately, I knew exactly where the 20 yard mark was as I shot it with the range finder beforehand, and it was an easy to see branch hanging into the field.
The big nanny followed the script perfectly. In as hushed a tone as I could find I said, "Top dot right behind the shoulder. Keep your head down on the shot. Breathe slowly. Don't flinch."
THWAAACKKK. The best sound in the world to a bow hunter.
I didn't see where the bolt hit, but she high kicked and took off through the beans on what looked like a death run. She got just past a little rise in the field and I lost sight of her. She actually was running towards my vehicle, and I was thinking, "What are the chances?"
Took a few minutes for him to quit shaking and babbling, so we got out of the blind and looked for the arrow. Didn't look good.
The mechanical Rage deployed well, and there was blood on the shaft and fletching. Not frothy pink blood, but not dark either. The shaft was covered in fat and grease. But, the good thing was that it didn't smell like guts.
Oh boy, what to do?
We walked the field edge back to the car, and I was hoping not to jump her, but there was just no way we could get back to the vehicle without coming within about 50 yards of where I last saw her. Fortunately, that was uneventful. Texted the landowner to let her know we'd be back in awhile. Went and grabbed some dinner at Subway. Went home and let the dogs out, who had been cooped up most of the afternoon and evening because we had been farm pond fishing before we went hunted. Took as much time as I could and we went back to the scene.
Blood was spotty the first 50 yards. Then really, really poor. Like hands and knees poor. The saving grace for us was that this was a late planting, so the beans still had mostly yellow leaves and some green ones. Man, did my kid do a great job of seeing blood that I never would have seen.
It was slow going the whole way and we got to a point where I was beginning to get that sinking feeling in my gut. Walked out ahead of the last blood about 10 yards and shined my headlamp into some mules tail that was growing in the field, and he cried out, "Dad, there she is!" He saw her before I did. She had been dead an hour and a half at least, maybe 10 yards past where I last saw her running. 40 yard drag to my car.
The shot was good, albeit a little high. Got both lungs. This is the part I'm trying to figure. I swear she was straight broadside, but she was either slightly quartering towards us or that bolt did some dancing in her, cause her liver was straight jelly and the exit wound on the far side was plugged with fat.
When I took her to the processor tonight I laid her next to a good 8 point, and she was every bit as long and round. She had NO teeth left on top, and only 2 front teeth on the bottom. One of the heaviest deer I've ever handled for sure. Had fun trying to wrangle her into the back of the Pilot by myself.
He was thrilled to take his second doe in 2 years. .243 last year. Still hasn't missed a shot at a deer.
1000 more words in pictures
Not the greatest looking blood on that arrow