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Jesse's Hunting > Hunting Articles > Hunting Articles Archives > Overcoming the Odds in Oregon - Late Season Blacktail
Overcoming the Odds in Oregon - Late Season Blacktail
Brian Kirksey - JHO ProStaff
- Bay Area, CA
November 22, 2005
Persistance Pays
No one ever killed a deer from the couch. Despite the unfavorable weather, the author made the trek to Oregon and reaped the rewards! |
Despite the unfavorable weather report, we rented a camper and proceeded to the public hunting grounds. The first night and all the next day we experienced constant rain. We quickly realized our camper would not go the distance. Rain penetrated the ceiling in multiple spots, compromising the beds and rug. Then the heater failed during the chilly night.
The next morning we hunted with slightly dampened spirits, and with no luck. Later in the day, we set up my treestand in my old spot. I went with this location by faith alone, since there was no fresh deer sign. In years past, we frequently found fresh rubs on saplings bordering the overgrown routes entering and exiting the timberline. I’d heard that sheds from trophy bucks have been collected in this area, but I never witnessed them personally.
That afternoon we returned the rented catastrophe on wheels and checked into a hotel in town, sacrificing our evening hunt. Hotel hunting was a new concept to me. There is a lot to be said about some of the benefits that come along with the method. One can get rather used to daily maid service, hot showers, clean sheets, local restaurants and TV.
The next morning, after attempting a stealthy entry through the brittle frost, I was in my stand an hour before light. Several hours passed without incident. At 8:45 a.m., after thoroughly inspecting my shooting lanes, I noticed movement in my peripheral vision. My eyes caught the flicker of antlers 30 yards behind me as the buck’s rack bobbed up and down while he fed. His body was shielded by the downhill slope as he fed down the fire trail I came up earlier that morning. I cautiously turned 180 degrees in my treestand and rattled lightly trying to coax the buck closer. He ignored the rattling and continued to feed out of sight.
Desperately, I tried two short grunts with my Primos grunt tube. Within two minutes, he emerged like a ghost without a sound, looking for the origin of the call. I waited until the deer was obstructed by a tree, then pulled my Switchback to full draw, waiting for him to emerge through the clearing just ahead. It seemed to take a long time for him to materialize from behind the tree – maybe a full minute or even two. Finally, he came out. I released the much anticipated arrow, and it deflected on a twig in route for the deer, flying a foot over his body. The buck bolted straight up, and rocketed up the hill in seconds. I grunted two more desperate grunts.
Five minutes after, with a lump in my throat and befuddled at how I missed that easy shot, I caught motion sixty five yards up the hill. While I was kicking myself and trying to make sense of my inadequacies, the equally baffled buck had been staring in my direction through the dense timber. He was standing there, naturally camouflaged the entire time. I gave him a series of single grunts, bringing him cautiously closer with every sequence.
Ultimately, he stood there bracketed between two large trees at thirty five yards. He seemed to be loosing interest in my calls, though, and was turning around to leave silently. While I was out of his field of vision, I pulled back arrow number two and held my pin tight in the crease of his shoulder. I squeezed the release until the arrow erupted out of my bow, flashed down toward the deer, and disappeared into his body. The bewildered buck sank down just before he took off through the timber again. I gave two more short grunts, but knew he would not be fooled again.
I heard a commotion where the buck had vanished and I was pretty confident he was down. Within 15 minutes I was creeping around the impact zone looking for the arrow and hoping for evidence of a solid blood trail. I found neither. I kept analyzing the wet leaves until I marked a big drop of blood on a bright yellow leaf. From there, I went yard by yard, systematically finding more and more drops. Within 25 yards the trail was clear to see without any effort. As I tiptoed further, it was clear to me by the amount of blood I was seeing that he was just ahead. As I finished that thought, I looked up the trail and there he laid motionless, not 15 yards further. He had traveled 60 yards after being fatally struck by my arrow, which was still lodged in his opposite shoulder.
Upon inspection of this young buck, I noticed he had been shot at before... probably by an archer during the regular archery season. It looked like the shot had grazed the deer’s left side, removing hair on his front left shoulder and thigh. The superficial wound did not penetrate his cape.
I was thankful for having a second chance on such a great trophy blacktail. Even though it felt like some of the natural elements were stacked against me and my hunt, I was fortunate to have a little luck on my side to aid me in my success.
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