348Winchester
Well-Known Member
With all the talk about Spook Spann and hunting ethics, I got to thinking about some of my own capers. We all do things wrong. Sometimes we do them unintentionally and sometimes we do them deliberately. There are sundry instances of both in my case!
In October 1989 I was bow hunting at Chuck Swan WMA. It was a buck only hunt. I had fallen asleep under a large oak that was heavily burdened with acorns. As I lay there dozing in the warmth of that indian summer afternoon, a group of deer fed up to me. When I awoke they were about twenty yards away contentedly feeding and paid no heed to me. A small spike was closest and there were does and fawns a little past him. I was able to draw my bow; albeit heavily canted at a steep angle. The arrow barely missed the spike and the little herd scattered in every direction. Dejectedly, I got up to search for my arrow. To my utter surprise I found blood on it! I could not believe it.
After finding a few specks of blood on the forest floor, I was able to determine the direction in which they led. It was a long tracking job but anticipation of finding that spike kept me going. Imagine how I felt when I found not the spike but a spotted fawn dead in a grown up field. Its throat had been neatly sliced by the broadhead.
I sat there for a while contemplating what to do. I could not bring myself to waste the deer but was not about to turn myself in either. I decided to take a chance, so I drug it through the field to where my truck was parked and smuggled it out behind the seat! I made it home and processed the deer in my parent's garage.
Sometimes you have to make tough choices! That deer was one of those choices for me.
In October 1989 I was bow hunting at Chuck Swan WMA. It was a buck only hunt. I had fallen asleep under a large oak that was heavily burdened with acorns. As I lay there dozing in the warmth of that indian summer afternoon, a group of deer fed up to me. When I awoke they were about twenty yards away contentedly feeding and paid no heed to me. A small spike was closest and there were does and fawns a little past him. I was able to draw my bow; albeit heavily canted at a steep angle. The arrow barely missed the spike and the little herd scattered in every direction. Dejectedly, I got up to search for my arrow. To my utter surprise I found blood on it! I could not believe it.
After finding a few specks of blood on the forest floor, I was able to determine the direction in which they led. It was a long tracking job but anticipation of finding that spike kept me going. Imagine how I felt when I found not the spike but a spotted fawn dead in a grown up field. Its throat had been neatly sliced by the broadhead.
I sat there for a while contemplating what to do. I could not bring myself to waste the deer but was not about to turn myself in either. I decided to take a chance, so I drug it through the field to where my truck was parked and smuggled it out behind the seat! I made it home and processed the deer in my parent's garage.
Sometimes you have to make tough choices! That deer was one of those choices for me.
