The first deer I spotted that morning was a doe, but she was behind a treetop on a hillside, and refused to pose for a shot. Not long afterward, I spotted another deer near that place. I could have shot that one, but although antlerless, its head and neck appeared "bucky," so I held fire, in case it was a young button buck.
A while after that, I spotted another deer walking across the same narrow opening. It kept its head down to the ground, hidden behind the weeds, and refused to raise it when I gave out a plaintive call of "Maaaaa." Bleats and grunts also failed to get its attention.
A Buck...
After another 30 or 45 minutes had passed, I again saw movement there. This time the scope revealed a buck with a decent rack. The glimpses I got were fleeting, so I had no good way to judge his size, and any shot I could have taken would have been poor. My bleats and grunts didn't convince him to come closer. It appeared that he followed the doe I'd seen earlier. At any rate, he disappeared.
...And a Coyote
At 8:22, I heard something to my left, just beyond my peripheral vision. I started slowly turning my head and caught a flash of a big vividly-colored coyote just as he saw me and ran south, along the road on which I'd walked in. He had a good bit of red and black in his coat. I stood and turned with rifle ready, but unfortunately I had no shot on the deer-eating sonofagun.
Around 9:00, a light breeze began to stir, but it wasn't too bad. Around this time, the temperature was just climbing above freezing. The woods were gorgeous, I was seeing game, I was comfortable, and I had nowhere else I needed to be. Now that's a nice feeling.
Coming From Behind
Just before 9:30, I heard some footsteps in the leaves behind me and to my right. I turned to look, and there went a deer up the opposite slope, beyond a deep wash. The light was terrible. That slope, with numerous mature pine trees, was all in shade while the treetops I was looking through on my side were all sunlit. All I could tell was that it was a deer, and which direction it was going. It refused to respond to my bleat, then it got behind some crud and that was the end of that.
Almost an hour later, I again heard definite footsteps in that general vicinity, so I turned that way. The light was better, but there weren't many places I could see that slope at all. I finally spotted some movement and saw that it was a deer. I put the scope on it and saw that it was a buck, with his head down, probably scent-trailing a doe. He was walking uphill away from me, left to right, mainly behind a screen of limbs and brush.
The Buck Stops... Where?
He stepped into the one small opening where I had a prayer of hitting him. I said "Maaa," and he was slow to respond. He took another step or two away from me up the hill, turned to the left a little, stopped, and raised his head. His head and shoulder were behind a tree, and I could see antlers sticking out. I just didn't know if they were big enough, and I had no shot anyhow.
He did not stay stopped for long. He was on a mission. He was feeling randy.
Creating an Opportunity
He put his head back down, sniffing the ground, and took another small step or two, turning to the right. He was slightly quartering away, facing uphill. This time I said "MAAAA!" loudly. I wanted it to be effective this time.
He raised his head and stopped. I could tell that while he wasn't the biggest buck in the woods, he had plenty 'nuff antlers for me. I laid the crosshairs on the sweet spot and squeezed the trigger.
Away he went! It was obvious he was hit, but that didn't stop him. He ran up that hill pretty well for a shot deer. I felt real good about the shot, but it was very hard to see that slope and while I thought he had stopped at the top of the hill, I had no way of knowing for sure. Although I had immediately chambered another round, I'd had no opportunity for a follow-up shot.
The time was 10:24.
What to do After the Shot
What I did next was something worth noting: I got out a compass, and carefully observed the bearings to the place where he'd been when I shot him, and to where I'd seen him last. I also picked out some good landmarks between hither & yon, so that once I got across the small valley, I could eyeball back to the tripod to help me find those spots.
Ten minutes after the shot, I was on the ground and heading that way. In short order, I was eyeballing my landmarks and figuring I must be close to where he'd been when I fired. I glanced over at a nearby tree and noticed blood and hair - some of it up very high on the tree, and more of it kind of smeared onto it, down low.
A Strange Scene
There was blood aplenty. Since then I have pretty much decided that at the time of the shot, blood and hair must have been forced out of the entry wound and back towards me, which is where some of the blood and hair, including the stuff up high on the tree, had come from. The stuff down low was apparently left there when the buck stumbled against it as he crossed the ditch.
Wounded Deer Will Run Uphill
There was no time to worry about such details then. I knew which direction he had gone, so I began to follow the blood trail. And here's another lesson: Some folks will tell you that a wounded deer won't run uphill. I'm here to tell you, that is bull pucky. I personally know of at least four deer which, though fatally wounded, ran uphill. This buck happened to be the most extreme case I'd seen - this was a very steep hill. Some folks would have given up and called it a miss as soon as the deer ran up the hill. That would have been a very bad mistake.
(Continued)
