Lucky?

Sitting fifteen feet above the frozen ground with a good stiff breeze smacking you in the face in the middle of November sure can make a guy appreciate things like hot coffee, long underwear and woodstoves. It can also make a guy appreciate whitetail deer hunting in Northwestern Ontario, especially when hunting with a bow.

As I very slowly moved my head from side to side I noticed a quick movement to my far right. My heart rate accelerated and I suddenly forgot how cold I was. But, within two seconds the excitement fizzled and I soon felt the cold chill slicing through my body once again. I watched as the ruffed grouse worked its way through some tag alders with a small patch of rosehips in sight which was the big, fluffy bird’s true destination. This was the very first time I had been hunting all season and I was seriously pumped to say the least. Even seeing a grouse walking by was kinda cool.

I had only been sitting in my stand for about twenty minutes or so and I felt very positive about seeing a deer. I know this area well since it’s only about a half mile down the road from my house and I’ve been hunting there for about five years now. I’ve taken four deer from this very stand during that time; three with my bow and one with my rifle. There was plenty of fresh sign at this location and to boot, I had two tags in my pocket. One buck tag and one additional antlerless deer tag, so I was in a position where I could legally take any deer that presented itself to me. But, the big question was, would I actually be able to make the shot if I had the opportunity to do so?

If you know who I am and have seen the show I produce, you may be wondering about something I mentioned a little earlier. I’m referring to the comment I made about how it was the middle of November and it was the very first time I had hunted all season. I hadn’t even hunted for ducks or geese and waterfowling is one of my all-time faves. In fact, it was just the day before my hunt that I had purchased my deer hunting licence from DNR Sporting Goods. I then hustled over buy my additional tag at the MNR just before they closed for the day. In a normal season, I hunt from September 1st, right through the middle of December for ducks, geese, grouse rabbits, bear, deer and moose. But, this season was a little different.

Let’s go back in time to October 23, 2007. Some of you may have already heard about my “ladder-on-the-table incident.” I won’t bore you with all the juicy stuff, but basically, I pulled a ‘Tool Time Tim’ when I was working on my house and realized that I needed an additional two or three feet of height and my ladder was extended to its maximum reach. So, what would any manly and ultra-rugged guy (many would simply describe it as a bonehead guy) do in this situation? Hey, I know… how about if I put the ladder on top of a small wooden table? Sure, that would work! It worked just fine and brought me to the twenty foot height I needed to screw a board down near the peak of my roof. Well, I didn’t quite get the board screwed down. When I got out of the emergency room at the hospital (helicopter flights are always kinda ‘groovy’ when you’ve had a shot of morphine) I was told that I had broken my hip, three ribs and my collar bone. My back was pretty messed up as well.

So after an operation on my hip, another three weeks in hospital, plenty of complaining about hospital food, my very first catheter experience, (this whole deal is over-rated, I’d say) another five months in a wheelchair, along with some much needed physiotherapy (thanks Renato and Rob), I was finally on the move again. But, according to my surgeon, the likely-hood of me being able to pull the string back on my bow or withstand the recoil of a high powered rifle or shotgun come September was in question.

Somewhere around the middle of August I just had to give ‘er a try. Don’t forget, I am the ruggedest guy of all time… So, out came the .410 to start. Not bad, so the next logical step was the 20 gauge. Whoa… a little heavy. After a few shots with it, I figured I’d best put that thing away for a while. The next idea was to try and shoot my bow. Being a compound bow with a 65% let-off and only set at about 60 pounds it’s normally pretty easy to draw. But, that’s when you don’t fall twenty feet off a ladder eight months earlier. I can’t tell you how bummed out I was thinking I would not be hunting for the first time since I was just a kid. So, when it was all said and done, I made a decision that I would simply not be hunting this fall. I told my buddy, Mike Plexman, about this and after he finally stopped laughing, he made a prediction that I would not last the season without hunting. “RD, if you don’t kill something by the middle of November, you’re gonna lose your mind.” He also threatened to take away my rugged badge and post it on e Bay for fifty cents.

Let’s move ahead now to Thursday, November 13, 2008. While in town, I ran into a friend of mine who was looking for a place to hunt for deer with his bow. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able hunt this season anyway, I told him he was welcome to use one of my stands. The one I had in mind was the one a half mile down the road where I had taken some deer in previous seasons. I told him I’d sneak in there later that day and look for fresh sign. When I got in there… wow! Talk about fresh sign!

It turned out that my friend ended up securing another good spot in which to hunt, so my stand would go the season unoccupied with all that fresh deer sign around it. Such a shame! And, then it happened. The “Plexman Prediction” came true. Suddenly, I felt myself almost stuck in some sort of bizarre futuristic rugged force field or something and I was starting to feel my ruggedtivity senses tingling once again. I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the sign I had seen at my stand. There were some good rubs, a couple huge scrapes, poop all over the place and four or five trails coming together and crossing a very small creek just thirty yards from where my portable stand was hung. I just knew that if I could get my butt in that tree stand for even just one evening, I’d see a deer.

But, I kept reminding myself, that just two months earlier, I could not get that damn string back on my bow. I thought, “Well, I might be able to do it.” So, me being the rugged individual that I am, I got that bow out and wouldn’t you know it? YES!!!! I got that SOB of a string back first try! A little wobbly, mind you, but I got it back. I don’t think I would have scored full marks for style. It’s amazing though, what two months can do when you’re dealing with a healing injury. After taking only about a dozen or so shots my shoulder and collar bone were beginning to feel the stress, so I put the bow away. But, amazingly, I was shooting very well. I took about ten or eleven shots at twenty yards and I flung a few at thirty. I was dead on with each shot. I didn’t do a “Robin Hood,” but each shot I took would have resulted in meat for the freezer.

I kept thinking to myself that I really shouldn’t go hunting simply because I hadn’t practiced shooting my bow in over a year. As a sportsman, the last thing I want to see is an animal lost to a poorly placed shot. So far, I’ve been lucky and I’ve never lost a big game animal that I’ve taken a shot at. I thought I had lost a caribou that I hit with an arrow up in the Arctic a few years back and that was a very bad feeling. But, I did get him a while later. So, I guess I was doing sort of a sales job trying to convince myself that I could do it. After all, I was “shooting well.” Hmmmm…

Before I knew what the hell was going on, I had my ultra-rugged camo clothes out, boots, wool pants, safety harness, orange hat and vest, side quiver, field points were replaced by 100 grain broadheads… the whole deal. Plexman was right. I just simply could not stop myself from hunting, especially when I saw all the fresh sign at that stand. All of you hard-core deer hunters out there, especially the archery people, know exactly what I mean. I was in my stand by 4 o’clock that afternoon.

After the ruffed grouse filled up on his evening harvest of rosehips, he slowly meandered out of sight. My eyes were peeled on the well used trails that were just about twenty yards from where I sat in my tree stand. Being just fifteen feet above ground gives the hunter an unbelievable view of the area. Time to check the watch. It was now 4:45 pm and that meant I had about another hour of legal shooting time. A squirrel was rustling behind me and it caused me to look that way for just a second. When I tuned my eyes back out to the front, like a ghost, there he was. Just eighteen yards in front of me walked a very respectable eight point buck. And, just eighteen yards in front of him, sat a very nervous Rugged Dude.

If you’re a deer hunter that has ever had an animal, buck or doe, within eighteen yards of you, then you know what it’s like to feel your heart pounding through your chest! Now here’s where it starts getting hectic. I knew right away that he was a deer I wanted, badly. Not a bruiser by any stretch, but a good deer nonetheless. The problem was that I had my bow between my knees, resting on the platform of my stand, and I had my hands inside my sleeves to keep them warm. This buck was on top of me before I knew what was happening and I was afraid that any movement at all would send this lad into orbit. I was in a jam.

At this point the deer was basically right below my stand. Luckily, he turned a bit and started walking away slowly so I figured I’d start to make my move. Don’t forget about that whole heart pounding thing… it was worse now than ever. As I very slowly started to raise my bow, the buck stopped and looked right up at me! Uh oh… “Busted,” I thought to myself. The tree I was in didn’t really have much cover in it, but it’s really the only tree that’s big enough to hang a stand on in the immediate area. After about three minutes (which seemed like three friggin’ years) of moving a few inches at a time, I finally had my bow where I could almost draw back. The problem was, that this young buck had me pinned, but really didn’t know what I was. He actually slammed his front hoof down once, which normally shows a sign of nervousness. It’s also usually the last thing you see before the white flag goes up and the panicked deer lays rubbed and peels out. But amazingly, he didn’t bolt.

Whew! I was lucky so far. The good thing at this point was that he was no longer right below me at nine or ten yards. He had slowly and cautiously walked over beside a small spruce tree that I knew was exactly 31 yards away from my stand. And, he didn’t seem to be quite as nervous as he was when he was in tight. “Great,” I though. “Now, just give me shot!” This next part is insane. When the deer turned sideways at 25 yards I figured it was time to close the deal. Then, to my utter horror, I realized that my shooting release aid (wrist type) was jammed sideways inside my sleeve! Talk about frustration and panic!

You must realize that this deer and I were playing hide ‘n go seek and “let’s avoid eye contact” for about five minutes now and when he finally gave me a shot, I couldn’t get my release out of my damn sleeve. Finally, after some very weird wrist and sleeve manipulation, I got the release out and attached it to my string. To make matters worse, I really had to fart. Luckily, I was able to hold off on that whole deal. But, now he was facing me, straight on. No shot. Just a few seconds later and now back at 31 yards, the young buck turned slightly quartering away (an archer’s choice shot) and to my amazement, he stood perfectly still and looked in the opposite direction. I slowly raised my bow and drew back smoothly. I rested my sight pin and aimed for the far leg, held my breath and gently touched the trigger on my release. Thwack! It was a perfect shot, straight into to lungs, ensuring a quick and humane dispatch. Then, you guessed it… I exhaled, lifted one leg ever so slightly… and farted. Nice.

After a short dash of about forty yards, I could hear my deer crash down into the thicket near the small creek. Even though I’ve been hunting for more than thirty years, my heart was still pounding and I was shaking like a leaf. I was almost as excited as I was when on Christmas morning, at age five, I opened my first present and realized I got a GI Joe with the Kung Fu grip! After waiting about twenty minutes, I lowered my bow and climbed down the tree. Being almost dark now, I pulled a flashlight out of my pack and went to claim my prize. Prior to this animal, I have taken three caribou, five bears and six deer with my bow. But, this one was my personal best. Not by measurement, but by circumstance.

Remember, other than a few warm up shots in my yard, I hadn’t even pulled the string back on my bow for well over a year prior to hunting this animal. I hadn’t done any scouting either. And, to be honest, I’m a decent shot, but there are plenty of local guys who could easily kick my ass on the 3D range. But, in the end it all worked out and I now have 120 pounds of tender venison in my freezer for the long winter ahead.

So, was I lucky? Well, um, maybe… a little, I guess.