Ten Seconds

Saturday was my only day to hunt this past weekend, so decided I would try for one of the two bigger bucks I have seen on my property this season.  One was a thick tall 6-point, and a slightly smaller 8 point.  I opted for the natural ground blind and I wanted to get in there well before it was light.  There was a moderate breeze and I did not hear anything in the area as I crested the hill.   I turned on my flashlight briefly to get back on the path when I heard something get up.  Turning, there was the 8-point just 15 yards away and standing in the beam of my LED light.  I took off the light and I heard it slowly walk away as I turned to walk into my blind.  Bummer. 

It was an uneventful morning after that, and the wind started shifting.  Around 8:30 AM I got tired of sitting there, besides the wind was now blowing directly into the little runway I have.

I thought my partner might be at out mountain property to help me install a few fence posts for the landowner.  It turns out he drank too much the night before and decided not to go, so I unfastened the gates and went in.  

I knew it was supposed to rain later that afternoon, so I decided the posts could wait and went back in the woods, headed for the thick laurel and rocky ridge in the back of the property.  It was a beautiful autumn day, bright and sunny with lots of yellow and gold leaves.  The breeze was still steady, so sneaking around was feeling effective.  After entering the laurel, I slowly made my way toward the ridge when to my left I see a doe standing there in the bright sun that wasn’t there before.  She was bedded not 20 yards from where I was and my scent finally roused her from her nap.  She was resting on the other side of downed oak, and we seemed to see each other at the same time.  Then, she flicked her tail and started to walk behind the root ball…  I readied as I thought she would pass the roots and offer a shot.  Moments later I saw her walking uphill and away instead.  I had a small window to shoot through above the root ball and decided to try about a 27 yard shot quartering hard away.   I pulled the shot and missed right by about 3 feet and spend about 12 minutes getting my grizzly head out of a small oak stump.  

When I started off again I immediately saw a gigantic fox squirrel about 10 feet away!  It wasn’t in a panic about me and bounded off behind a large chestnut oak trunk to feed.  This squirrel was like a rabbit with a puffy tail, very big.  I eased around the trunk and decided to just try for it with a broadhead arrow.  I released and it lit out in a panic.  I had to have hit it, and it seemed to drag its tail or hind quarters a bit behind it.  It was slowed down and I tried another blunt arrow on the run crossing about 15 yds and missed high by a mile.  I ran after it pulling another blunt, trying to get a bead on it as it ran down the fallen tree the deer was behind.  As it reached the root ball I launched a blunt that seemed to get real close.  He chuckled in agitation and slid down under the roots.  I never did find any blood or my broadhead arrow and verify a hit.  I was not happy to lose a $10 broadhead.

I carefully eased up over the rocky ridge as I almost always catch deer on the other side in the thick laurels and rocks. As I crested the ridge I saw two more fox squirrels chasing each other round a trunk and was tempted to switch to a blunt, but since I just blew it on the other squirrel I decided to just relax.  Then, I saw him.  Maybe 10-12 yards from me feeding behind a laurel bush.  It was a small 5 or 6-point.  I didn’t really want to shoot a smaller buck, but I have had a hard time shooting lately and this one was so close and had no idea I was there…bird in hand concept.  I turned slightly and waited for him to feed into the open broadside.  He was downhill about 8 feet and as I started to draw my top limb hit a 4-inch diameter tree to my right.  I leaned back so the bow would clear the tree and concentrated very hard on the spot.  As I released, I watched in horror as the arrows was down hear his legs on the left side.  I do not remember hitting the bow against the tree but it was possible it happened and I didn’t realize it with the excitement.  I watched the arrows seemed to hit near the leg/feet and seem to flip up and go with the buck as it blasted downhill.  Stopping about 50 yards away I had another arrow on the string, but realized it was a blunt as I decided whether to try the shot.  It continued away.  

I found the arrow, and the broadhead was broken off behind the point about 15 feet down the hill.  No blood or hair at the shot site.  The grizzly was snapped off at the tip maybe about ¼ missing.  No blood anywhere.  I decided I hit a rock under him and he tripped over my arrow as he ran.  I was a mess.  How the heck did I miss that gimmie shot.  Thoughts of giving up the bow for the season or switching left hand wedged into my brain again. 

I may as well sneak back out of here and work on the fence.  Two misses….how many more will I get today?  The wind was dying down and it was hard to move quietly anyway.  I’ll set up the posts and try to make it back to my private area for evening prime time.  

As I got close to the field edge I saw a grey squirrel feeding on some black walnuts in tall grass.  It was close so I decided to try a broadhead shot again.  Arrow went high and I short drew so bad I hit my face with my glove hand solidly.  Really angry now at myself, the squirrel ran toward me and across downhill on a log.  I had a quick blunt on the string, and as it ran I tried to only hone in on the eye….short drew again but nailed him on the run just under the eye at about 10 yards.  Hmmm….  

I skinned the young squirrel and watched at the field edge but no deer came by.  Worked on the fence posts for about an hour and ran out of sackcrete after the 3^rd post.  Did enough and was now hot and sweaty in my wool.  Time to head home, drop the squirrel in the fridge, and get out back again.  I felt I needed a close shot….not very confident.

It was drizzling lightly at about 5:45 PM as I eased back up the hill.  The rain was here.  I thought about the ground blind again, but didn’t want to get all muddy in there when it started pouring, the wind was stiffer now anyway still blowing through the chute, so I quietly climbed the ladder stand instead.   

The rain tapered off again, and maybe about 20 minutes later I hear a deer approaching the trail…. It is that 8-point.  He was approaching from my right side and I was sitting down.  He was wired and very cautious.  He didn’t seem to care about me this morning in the flashlight, but now was visibly edgy.  

I sat there calm and he took his sweet time scanning the woods, sniffing the weeds I brushed against on the way in, and slowly he was directly under my stand sniffing the rungs of my ladder.  I didn’t move and was quite comfy sitting.  I could see him in the peripheral look up every now and then, and expected him to get out of there at any second, but he continued.  

Once he entered the left side about 5 yards I got in position to shoot as he looked away.  Still he was facing dead away…not a great angle from the tree.  I waited and he eventually walked out farther, but still facing dead away.  Finally, at about 15 yards he quartered slightly uphill and I gave myself the green light before he got too far for comfort.  I focused hard on a spot and envisioned where the arrow would pass to get the goodies, even with the leg on the other side.  I told myself not to hesitate and pause, stiffened the bow arm solidly and kept drawing…. All I remember is the arrow appear right where I was looking.  I could not believe it as he bolted like a scalded cat about 30 yards out before slowing down.  I saw a good half arrow of penetration, but knew I got at least one lung.  I saw him turn slightly downhill at my property line and stumble…looked like his knees gave out, or did he just trip crossing that deadfall branch?  I dared not move an inch for a few minutes, but never saw him leave.  I eventually got brave enough to scan with my binos…. Nothing.  After about 20 minutes the rain started again.  I texted Mike who was hunting about 30 minutes away and he said it was pouring there…better get on the trail.  

Just then I head another deer approaching.  It is the bigger 6-point.  Instead of coming down the trail he circles around high, uphill of my mock scrape along the property edge and around past where I had my other treestand.  He moved by and downhill circling back towards the area my buck went.  I hear him grunt several times and he wanders off.  

Now I am in a hurry.  It is raining and getting dark. I Stood up and scanned that area with my binos again from the standing poition….no sign of deer. Did he sneak out somehow?   I find no blood or hair at the hit…no trail.  I go directly to where I last saw him and there he is.  He never moved.  He crumpled there within 10 seconds after the shot.  Amazing!

My arrow went in past the last rib, centered the middle of the heart and cut the offside leg bone.  I found the grizzly head broken off in the pericardial sack when I dressed it.  

When we skinned it, it had a deep puncture in the rump that was clotted under the skin.  Hole went almost to the bone.  So here is the theory:    Before I saw him he just got his butt kicked in a fight with that 6 point.  That is why he was so jumpy and wired.  He was looking to avoid that other buck.  The puncture was an antler tine in the butt.  The 6 came by later looking for him, and walked up on the dead buck and grunted a few times at it before losing interest and walking away. 

It only took about 5-7 seconds for the deer to get shaky and stumble….it was dead in 10 seconds. 

Venison Jaeger Schnitzel Recipe

Jaeger Schnitzel

Ingredients:

½ pound of Venison chops (5 or 6 x 1 inch backstrap chops)

1 cup of sliced Chicken of the woods mushroom

1/3 cup sliced morel mushrooms

1 cup of all-purpose flour

1 cup of Italian breadcrumbs

1/4 teaspoon of salt

¼ teaspoon of black pepper

3 tablespoons of olive oil

3 tablespoons of butter

½ a sweet onion or one large shallot

¼ cup of red wine

½ cup of beef stock or broth

2 eggs

¼ cup of heavy cream (or whole milk)

Place your venison cutlets between 2 layers of cling wrap (to keep things from splattering) and pound each side with a meat hammer to tenderize.

Dredge the pounded cutlets in a plate of flour salt and pepper, then coat in a bowl with the well beaten eggs.  Transfer the cutlets then to a plate with the Italian breadcrumbs and thoroughly coat. Reserve some of the flour for thickening later. 

Heat a large heavy cast iron skillet with the olive oil and butter over medium -high heat. In batches, cook venison 3-4 minutes, or until browned, turning once. Remove the venison from pan; set aside and keep warm.  

Using the same pan used for the cutlets, add the thinly sliced onion or shallot, and the mushrooms and sauté 3-4 minutes adding additional butter if necessary and salt and pepper, until tender.  

Add the wine and beef stock and bring to a boil for several minutes.  

Add the heavy cream or milk and about a teaspoon of flour to thicken sauce to the consistency of gravy while constantly stirring.

To serve pour the mushroom sauce over the cutlets and enjoy with an accompaniment of traditional German Spaetzle, butter noodles, or potato of your choice.  

The Tent Flap

The tent flap, wet and clammy with condensation, brushes a damp chill across the hunter’s stubbly face as he fumbles out of his tent in the frosty early morning darkness.  With his thickly woolen feet finally snug inside of the well broken in soft leather Bean boots, he struggles by headlamp in finger-less tattered surplus glove liners to get the lighter to finally catch his already prepared camp stove.  There is no need for an alarm despite weary legs and sore back from 4 days of clamoring over rocky ridges and thickly woven valleys in search of elk sign.  After stuffing a granola bar and some jerky into his pockets and cursing the rudeness of the manufacturer’s noisy packaging, the hunter chugs down the bitter coffee scolding his lips on the hot metal of the titanium cup in a cloud of rising condensation.  Tossing the wayward grounds, he stashes his cup and quietly and briskly weaves past his companion’s tent lines and exits camp.  There shelters tremble as they too are slowly rousing themselves from the stupor of exhaustion induced sleep.  He knows the long steep climb ahead, and the necessary haste he must undertake to get into a position ahead of the well-fed elk heading for their beds. 

                After the struggle of clamoring up the hillside as quickly and quietly as possible, the hunter curses his decision to wear that extra sweater that seemed like a necessity back at camp.  It was shed on the first quarter of the trek uphill.  With beads of sweat now rolling down from his sideburns and the feel of a soaked shirt back under his well beaten back quiver, the man slinks across the crest of the ridge as the first rays of morning sun begin to filter through the surrounding terrain.  

                With no time to reflect on the beauty and glow that surrounds him, he reaches the uphill side of a well-worn trail, clears away the dank and musty smelling pine litter, and takes care to extricate any branches that may interfere with his longbow’s limbs.  Finally, his demeanor can switch from hurried anticipation, to one of peaceful contemplation as he slowly becomes one with the mountain, that feeling that only the hunter knows.  The yellow tinted rods of morning sun beam down between clouds like fat lasers, then filter through the foliage giving the ground a mottled pattern.  The now rising thermals are given away by whatever dust particles are highlighted by the light’s path.   

While listening to the deep throaty “CAAWL” and swishing wing beats of a passing raven, he is violently snapped out of his trance by some muffled – yet approaching sounds.  Without any animation from years of conditioning, and only the shifting pupils of the eye, he catches brown movement 50 yards below his hide.  Instant telemetry calculations are performed unconsciously by the brain telling him that the animals will pass to his right out of range unless he moves.  He is suddenly keenly aware of his heart now thumping in his eardrums like big bass drum.  Attempting to convince his body to move against all his senses, he crouches and swiftly scurries 15 yards behind the eight-foot-tall trunk of a rotted and broken off woodpecker riddled pine trunk.  It is the only substantial cover left between him and the path of the now looming lead cow.  He pulled it off!  Introspectively bearing down now on his mind, he talks to his consciousness…” this is it…. concentrate…..pick a spot…. keep pulling….”.  Fingers tense on the string…. hands beginning to shake slightly…. Abruptly, like a slap across the face, in his peripheral vision he catches a huge grey form moving toward his uphill side and only 8 scant yards away!  Spinning and smoothly swinging his slender bamboo bow up into position instinctively, the huge bull catches the movement and turns to flee, but it is too late.  The wood arrow slices into the bull’s chest burying up to the orange fletch.  The panic stricken herd seems to explode in all directions as the sounds of snapping limbs, thundering hooves, and grinding rock quickly ends leaving the hunter to attempt to regain his breathing as he watches the still moving foliage slowly stop swaying.

By now he is shaking violently, everything happened so quickly.  He feels himself there now…one hand in the cool soft soil keeping his balance…. the other on his bow grip with an arrow he never remembers pulling and nocking on the string. 

It is over…..  or has it just begun?