Just couldn't get into it this year. Dad not able to hunt with me any more, etc. I wouldn't scout much, prep gear, etc.

So, opening weekend I force myself to do a little scouting in an area I haven't hunted for a few years do to logging. Went in the saddle and found one little rub. Pretty cool, but got melancholy and went home.

Last Friday I start prep. Couldn't find stuff, couldn't remember stuff, shot bow a lot (still nailing it at 40yards so all good), etc.

I go in to set up stand after forcing myself to get out of bed at 3am. Get set up before daybreak.

I just set there in that same saddle and wait for about an hour. About 7:30 I remember to laser a few trees to be sure of distance. I'm scanning the laser to the right when I hear a stomp, RIGHT UNDER ME!

Slowly turn my head to extreme left and look down at a 4.5 year old 125ish 8 point buck in full velvet; and of course he is giving me the evil-eye. I FREEZE for about two minutes while giving him the "Oh-Lord-Please"-eye.

Thank the makers of ASAT Leaf, he can't figure out what he is looking at. But, I'm frozen; can't get my bow, can't pee my pants (almost did), nothing.

He finally moves off nervously down the draw to about eighteen yards while I get my bow and come to full draw. I'm still sitting, but he is to my left which is an easy shot for me while sitting.

He stops at about eighteen yards with his chest right behind a bushy limb and decides to give me another stare-down.

I hold it... and hold it... just waiting for him to take a step. after about a minute and a half I start the shake-thingie and need to let down. He decides that it is time to take that step and I... yank the release button. POOP!

Arrow goes about two inches, right in front of his chest. He goes into the thicket. My heart goes south.

I get another arrow and hear another stomp behind me. It is another big buck without the fancy velvet. He goes into the thicket and my blood pressure goes up.

I hunt for a few more hours and see a doe and fawn. Later I get down to relocate and find six fresh scrapes, one the size of a truck hood, and several fresh rubs in the saddle all around me.

Needless to say I spent the rest of the weekend scouting and have been washing cloths and shooting the centers out of my targets every since.

Sometimes God can rattle your cage to get you in the mood. Thanks Lord!

Edited by Meateater (10/06/10 11:13 AM)
Edit Reason: butter fingers
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