The last minute buck
By Keith Dewars*

If it hadn’t been for bad luck, I wouldn’t have had any luck at all.  Swirling winds, jittery does and my own inept mistakes had thus far combined to make my bow season an unsuccessful one.  Quitting was out of the question though.  This was bow season!  This is what we wait all year to do!

So here I was again, perched twenty feet up in an old oak tree on the last afternoon of Wisconsin’s early bow season, still waiting to fill a tag.  A deer trail was fifteen yards away, and I had laid down a figure eight shaped trail of doe-in-heat scent that would theoretically bring any curious deer within range.  The chilly November afternoon slowly passed away with only three does making their presence known, and as I watched them trot away I started mentally preparing for the late December season, trying to determine where the deer would be during the post-rut period.  A glance at my watch told me I had only five minutes of shooting light left and I began to pack my equipment for the long walk back home.

I don’t know what made me look up but all of a sudden he was there, a small buck forty yards away making his way towards me.  Hoping against hope that the wind would somehow cooperate this time, I waited for what seemed like an eternity as the buck made his way toward the deer trail running by my stand.  Just as the buck started on a path that would take him out of my area, his nose sank to the ground and took a big whiff of the scent I had placed there earlier.  He turned and headed straight toward me!  I readied myself as he drew nearer and concentrated on a small opening in the brush that the deer would have to pass.  As he reached that point I drew my bow and made a bleating sound, the deer stopped in his tracks with his chest directly behind a branch and looked directly at me.  Oh no!  I thought to myself as we stared at each other.  Busted again!

What happened next I’ll never be able to explain.  The little buck put his head right back down and started walking again.  As I bleated once more he stopped and stared again, but this time luck was on my side and I released my Easton XX75 Camo Hunter arrow.  The instant I saw my arrow fletching disappear into the deer’s chest he sped off at full speed, tripped over a log in the trail and fell over dead, not thirty-five yards from my stand.  It all happened so fast I had to sit down in my stand and calm myself as by now I was shaking from the adrenaline rush.

As I said a prayer of thanks I glanced at my watch.  One minute left until the end of the season.  Wow, what a finish!

*Keith Dewars is a freelance writer, avid outdoorsman and owner/webmaster of Malum Internet Properties. He can be contacted at keithd@maluminternet.com.

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