As my 2018 deer archery season comes to an end in southwest Iowa I find myself reminiscing on the past 3 months. With many hours spent in the stand I experienced highs and lows, I but it certainly did not turn out quite the way I wanted it to – or did it?

Patience Finally Pays Off…Or Not?

2013 is the last year I harvested a mature whitetail buck and entering my 5th year of pursuit with no kill, I had high hopes of bagging a trophy. Checking trail cameras this year was nothing short of excitement as many photos delivered yet another buck to the “hit list.” Unlike past seasons, as this year’s rut roared up I actually began to see these hit-lister bucks show themselves well into shooting hours.
The Black Rack was my weapon of choice this year as I rattled in buck after buck. One particularly wet and drizzly morning in early November I created a fighting scenario. After only about 60 seconds of rattling I caught glimpse of a buck running up from behind. In a split second he was within 25 yards but before he dipped behind some brush I made the decision that he was a shooter buck. Just as suspected, he followed the trail out into the open field and I was able to stop him at just shy of 30 yards. I’m at full draw… sights on his kill zone… I release… and… my heart sinks to my feet. He runs away strong with my arrow sticking out a mile. It’s been 5 years, almost to the day, since I’ve even shot at a buck and I make the dreadful shoulder shot. My only condolence is that after retrieving my arrow and finding maybe an inch of penetration, absolutely minimal blood, and no deer in sight, I can safely assume he will live on without much more than a bone bruise. As with any less than perfect shot, I replayed the scenario over and over in my head, perhaps trying to press blame on some other force in the universe, but ultimately knowing that it was my own adrenaline that was the culprit for rushing the shot.
In days to follow, I do the only thing a hunter can do, I keep trying.

The Moment I Have Been Waiting For

I am fortunate enough to be blessed with an amazing wife and career that allows me to spend adequate time in the stand. I primarily hunt the mornings, and almost every day break is as exciting as the last. I have close encounters with hit-liters, witness bucks fighting, does being chased to the point of pure exhaustion and I even connect with a doe to bring home some meat for my family. It certainly was a highlight of my season as any harvest is something I am truly grateful for.
With one kill of the season under my belt, the rut in full swing, and my vacation days nearing an end, I have high expectations on this particular Saturday in mid-November. As the sunlight unlocks the environment around me I set eyes on “Small Tail” – a big 10 point-with a doe he has completely committed too. I suspect he had been chasing her around all through the night as they both bed down in the grass field not long after 7am. Every 30 to 40 minutes he would stand up with his eyes locked on her and creep forward like a cat stalking a quail. With his neck stretched out he’d nudge her in the butt, sometimes succeeding in getting her on her feet, but only to bed down again 15 steps later. I witnessed this courtship for over 3 hours before I decided I would have to try again another day. My wife was ready for me to be home and quite frankly so was I. However, I wanted him to leave on his own terms, not from me spooking him, so I started in with some rather aggressive calling. Through a particular sequence of grunts, rattles, and snort wheezes I created an illusion that I was a dominant buck and taking every breeding opportunity available. Just as I suspected and had hoped would happen, “Small Tail” stood up, stared my direction hard, then was very pressing on his doe to get up and move. He wanted his doe all to himself and was in no mood to fight, so he pushed her straight away from me. My plan worked beautifully, but what I didn’t expect to happen was for them to enter a small standing corn patch only 20 yards wide by 50+ yards long, and then not come out. As I got out of the stand and headed that way (also towards my 4 wheeler) I did not get my hopes up because what would really be the odds of this actually happening? Still, I crept quietly forward and actually surprised myself when I made it to the edge of the corn patch and had not yet seen them bolt out. With a nocked arrow equipped with a Muzzy broadhead, I stealthily peered down the narrow corn rows one by one. About 6 rows in and my adrenaline instantly floods my body as I see “Small Tail” broadside to me just standing still. I lean back into my row, pull back, lean over, take 3 deep breaths as I gently rest my 30 yard pin on his kill zone and softly release my arrow. I hear it hit him hard, he does a rear kick as he jumps out of the corn and I see a blood spot on him but about 6 inches high. I’m not ecstatic about the shot but with a pass through I was certain I’d have clipped the top of the lungs. Intently I watch him through my binoculars, waiting for him to fall, bed down, or at least stumble, but instead I become confused at how strong he was moving with absolutely no sign of injury. He stops running after a bit and stares back at me, runs off some more, and then he trots, jumps a creek and walks off without so much as a limp. Baffled, I go to recover my pass through arrow but am instead confronted with a shocking result. My fixed broadhead and only half an inch of my arrow was barely wet with blood. At most I had 2 inches of penetration. Just a couple of weeks earlier I had used these broadheads to harvest a doe and it delivered everything a hunter would expect. Muzzy Trocar fixed blade broadheads are one the toughest tips made, proving that shot placement is key, and that a mature whitetail is tough beyond imagine. Looking back to where I was standing when I took the shot, I realize I had guessed him to be at 30 yards, but from this vantage point I could see it was only at 20 yards where he stood. This explained my high shot placement. Looking down the narrow corn rows without seeing his entire body created an illusion that he was farther away than what he actually was. After still searching the area where he entered the woods, retracing his steps for blood, and looking at my perfectly intact arrow, I let the Hunter’s Heartbreak consume me. If only I had used my 20 yard pin… if only I hit 2 inches lower…I played in my head everything that could have happened differently, but in the end, what happened happened and there was nothing I could do to change it. The next few days I LITERALLY could not sleep as my mind raced and raced.

My Final Opportunity

Eventually I did as I had before, I picked myself up out of self pity and got back in the stand to try again. About a week later, I found myself in the tree with high rutting activity taking place. Before long I had a couple of does, multiple immature bucks, and 2 shooters out in the field working towards me. Watching the two big bucks and being able to witness their behavior as they competed for the hot doe was absolutely thrilling. They sparred with each other and took their chances at corralling the doe into a remote area. All the while they trot back and forth my heart is pounding powerfully, for any moment I could get the shot opportunity I have been looking for. Then it happens. My ideal situation. The bigger of the two bucks starts coming down the tree line to check the scrapes directly behind me. I take my opportunity when he’s behind some brush to pull back and at full draw he comes walking directly to me. Now at only 15 yards he is stopped, but facing my direction unalarmed. As he turns broadside I hone in my sights and do a very very soft “merp” to briefly stop him. Without hesitation and in one swift movement he turns and bolts away, stopping only briefly at 50 yards before v-lining to the other timber to never be seen again, taking every deer in the field with him. My jaw literally dropped in disbelief as I stood there holding onto my bow trying to make sense of what I just missed out on.

Positive Mindset To Become Better

The remainder of the season for me was relatively uneventful compared to my November encounters. As I look back on my missed opportunities I feel almost physically sick to my stomach and even go as far as asking my close hunting buddy if I am even good enough to harvest a mature whitetail buck. As any good friend would do, he tried to boost my morale in saying that I definitely have what it takes and to hold my head up, keep trying, and soon it will all come together. But this just wasn’t enough for me so I asked the same question to the only person that it really mattered to. Myself. Was I actually good enough to kill a big mature whitetail buck? Was my skill set and knowledge at a level that would allow me to harvest such an animal? Or, was my season outcome simply the result of a series of unfortunate events? And as I really thought about these questions directed towards myself, I found that I could only pull out one answer. The true answer. NO. I was NOT good enough. If I had been good enough then I would have had a filled tag to show for it. I couldn’t sugar coat it to myself. I simply was NOT good enough. But the most important part of this realization was not that I’d self pity even for one more second. I was able to embrace the truth because I had acknowledged it and actually confronted its being. So I have made a decision to become BETTER. I will LEARN more. I will PREPARE more. And I will become the hunter I want to be. In my life, and especially in my hunting career, there is no failing, only opportunities to learn and grow. My preparation for the season opener in October begins now. In 2018 I had the most missed opportunities at bucks of my entire life, so it is easy to say it was my worst season yet, but there is an understanding inside me that my future greater self will be able to accredit its growth to the adversity I was previously faced with. It is all a journey, and the best way to enjoy it is to grow with the new knowledge and experiences gained each time we expose ourselves to the great outdoors. 2018 season is one for the books, not in the way most would imagine, but it certainly will play its role in the coming years.