It was only the second time in the tree-stand at my friend's hunting club and a crisp, cold morning where I welcomed some of the sunlight. I think we had been sitting in our stands since a bit after 0600hrs -- my friend is on a climbing stand on a big palm tree while I'm sitting on a 15 foot ladder stand that he designated as a gun stand. I could see why he put that rifle in my hands, why he wanted me to use that instead of a bow. We hadn't really seen anything unless you count the neat-looking bugs and birds that flew around us. My friend was getting somewhat fidgety and was thinking about heading out in about 20-30 minutes if we didn't see anything.
Then from the 15 foot high ladder stand, I saw some objects moving about 25 yards away and my first thought was coyotes. Then they came closer and they didn't have the coyote-like look and then I realized that the three objects were deer. There were two yearlings and a large, mature doe -- one of the yearlings I recognized was a "button buck". Silently, I flipped the safety into the "off" position and raised the rifle while the deer began to feed. The doe looked up at me and I could feel everything freezing in me, thinking that she was going to blow and bolt off. She just resumed feeding when I froze my own movements and I continued to move slowly, cautiously in hopes of getting in a good shot on her. Once again, she looked up, nervous and I held off on my actions until she relaxed. She bent back down to start feeding about 20 yards from me and I slowly aimed with the sight on the rifle until I lined up with the "pocket", the indentation right behind the shoulder. As soon as I was satisfied with my alignment and realized that my trembling wasn't going to decrease, my right index finger moved to the trigger and gradually squeezed back until I heard the thunder.
Stunned, all I could do was tremble as I watched the doe bolt off into the saw palmettoes. I turned to my friend, a seasoned hunter, and I saw him give me the thumbs-up, which reassured me that I made the right move and took a good shot. A few minutes later, he was back down on the ground with that climbing stand and I was back down, relieved to be back on solid ground where I didn't have to worry about falling. After regaining enough strength to walk in a straight line, my friend and I searched for the blood trail. He saw where she fell, but he's the type who'd rather follow the path of least resistance or failing that, the blood trail.
Then my friend noticed that there were partially digested acorns in the blood trail. Not a good sign because that indicates a gut-shot, although he swore that he saw me shoot right behind the shoulder. The pieces came together after I realized what happened -- I did aim for that "pocket" but she was also facing towards me. The entrance wound suggested that the shot went through her lungs, but the exit wound showed that it also went through parts of her digestive tract. Nonetheless, she left a good trail and we found her fairly close to where I had shot her.
My friend used the tree-stand harnesses to drag the 100ish lb deer out and then we went to get some ice and began to skin her in his yard. All I can say of the process are the following: 1) guts stink especially if they've been poked open 2) it's cool to see what my shot destroyed and 3) it's far more pleasant than the biology class dissection stuff. Granted, most of my duties revolved around holding up a water hose and spraying water where I was directed to or holding things stable. After quartering the deer and removing the bullet wound and trauma areas, we took the skinned deer to the butcher for further work.
I can't wait for my steaks, roasts, and other venison products!
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