The Trail

[Mike P]

The Trail


The trail from the bottom of the hollow up to the saddle with the grove of white oaks has been golden this early season. Year after year this trail has produced. And I can walk from my house and be there in ten minutes. That's the true beauty of the trail. I can hit it for last minute hunts.

The only downside to the trail is the retrieve. When you put an arrow into a buck on this trail, they always go back down to the creek bed below. Getting them back up to the top of the hollow usually turns out to be an exercise in engineering. My hunting partner Doc arrowed a nice ten point on the trail earlier this season and I let a huge eight walk one day when I hunted the spot. I went out for a quick hunt on "the trail" last night.

One thing I love about hunting the trail is the vision afforded by a climber three quarters up the side of the hill from the creek bed below. You see down the side of the hill and down the trail with ease. You see the deer coming up the trail with plenty of time to prepare for a shot. It is a huge benefit. You don't have to play the "let's see how slow I can move the crossbow into position so the deer who just appeared in front of me won't see the motion" game. We have all played that game. And as you know, it is a game we seldom win.

That view allowed me to see him close to three hundred feet down the trail. I didn't need the binoculars to tell me anything about this buck. I knew him well. This was the big ten that Doc had been hunting before he caved in and arrowed that lesser ten a couple of weeks ago. And he was coming up the trail. I took my Phoenix out of the holder.

I knew there was a chance for this situation. I had stayed away from the trail due to that chance. The trail was Doc's until he killed that ten point. Even though I have hunted the trail for twenty years I told Doc he had sole rights until he popped the big ten. When he shot the other buck, the trail was once again mine. But I stayed away. I didn't want this choice. And what was taking place was going to force me to make that choice. I had to decide.

As the big ten slowly ambled up the trail towards me I knew I would paint him. I always paint mature bucks. It is a habit. It is my little game and it makes me feel good. I get this rush knowing that the buck is mine even if I let him walk. It tells me that I brought the hunt to the conclusion that I want. I put myself into a position to kill a mature whitetail buck. And it is the reason I am out there.

My wife and I were just about finished with dinner when she said "It's a load of crap." I just stared at her. "You do the same thing every year. It's a load of crap." Now this is strong language from my wife of forty years. This is as close to profanity as she will venture. Where as I at times utter ramblings that could make army lifers blush, I do not think a profanity has crossed her lips during her 59 years on this good earth. So I was taken back by her use of the word crap. It is the ultimate four letter word in her vocabulary.

I had just finished telling her about the buck and what had transpired only an hour and a half before. I told her how I painted the buck at twenty yards. I told her I took the safety off.

He was a magnificent buck. This was as close to him as I had ever been. I have glassed him over thirty times, but it is not the same. When you see a mature buck at twenty yards you see things you can never see though lenses. At twenty yards you see the massive proportion of the deep chest you only see on four or five year olds. You see the muscles ripple as the buck walks. And the size of the body overwhelms you. You try not to pay attention to the rack as you place the crosshairs of the Varizone behind his left front leg. Only when you lower the bow do you allow yourself to focus on the antlers. And they are stunning.

I told her I couldn't shoot him. I still wanted the palmated buck. I was not going to give up on the palmated buck. When I finished the account of the hunt is when she made the "load of crap" statement. "It's not about the palmated buck" she said. "You do the same thing every year and always justify it the same way. You want this buck or you want that buck. It's a load of crap. The truth of the matter is you just don't want it to end." She got up from her chair and took both our plates out to the spam.

I thought about what she said as we sipped our coffee out on the deck enjoying the unseasonably warm fall evening. She might be right I thought. I thought about the agony I put myself through every year deciding whether to pull the trigger. And I thought of all the excuses I have used in the past as reasons for not pulling that trigger. Most were under the guise of wanting a bigger buck. But there probably was some truth in what she was saying. She knows me better then I know myself. It is that way with couples who have been married so long.

And it dawned on me. Hunting bucks was only part of the picture. I had reached the point in life where I didn't want things to end. I had reached that point where you want to savor the time, the experiences, and indeed every hour of your existence.

I probably should have known that when the big ten crested the top of the saddle and made his way to the white oaks in the same manner as had the "Great Eight" before him.

It was just not time for this season to end. I still need to go walking down my trail.

[ninepointer]

LOL Your wife sure was on to you! Before I got to that part, as I was into the 2nd paragraph I thought to myself, "This is splendidly written but I know where this is going: its going to be the old often-told story about the noble hunter who at the last second decides to pass on the shot at his long sought-after quarry." I think the reason that this story-line has been told so often, and will continue to be told, is because its true. As much as our apparent objective is to kill, the main reason we hunt is to have hunted.

[FredBear]

Yet another great read Mike! I can relate to this a lot. I get the same talks from my fiancee why don't you just shoot one of the deer you see every night? Well for me its almost impossible for me to "settle". I just can't take thinking if I would have let this buck go I could have got the big buck the next day, or the next week... I want the big boy because its the ultimate chess match. Its you against the him, he is in is house. He is the smartest deer in the woods, and you need to out smart him at his game, on his turf. That's why I do this. I've always been like this. I hunted for seven years before I shot my first deer. Not because I didn't have hundreds of chances , but because I wanted a mature deer for my first deer. Many times id be frustrated beyond belief. It was hard on a kid who just started hunting. I was trying to kill a mature buck, while I was learning everything. I was a total green horn. My dad would take me out, but he lost his father at a very young age. So he knew nothing about deer hunting either. So we learned together. I think had I went out and just shot the first buck that walked in front of me. It wouldn't be the same to me now..... Thanks for making me revisit my these memories Mike!

[mikej]

great story mike and great lessons i would have shot though

[Mike P]

the old often-told story about the noble hunter who at the last second decides to pass on the shot at his long sought-after quarry.

It is a nice thought ninepointer, but I have to tell you that I am anything but noble. Had it been my sought-after quarry, I would have double lunged him in a heartbeat.

[sumner4991]

i would have shot though

Yeah, me too. That old buck would have been running his last 10 yards, thinking, "I knew that looked like a Boo string, but, those whisker things threw me off".

Good story Mike P.

[beretta96D]

I can relate so well. I am not afforded the opportunity to hunt deer as often as you guys since they're not that plentiful around here unless you travel.

But, I am a die hard moose hunter, and I did the same thing last season. I had no adult tags, but I did see a calf by herself. I watched for what seemed the whole morning, picking away at maple buds and meandering closer and closer only to talk myself into believing it was a cow. When I described the animal to my wife and father-in-law and how close it really was to me (30 feet), they said I bowed out. Of course you can tell the difference that close, but this was opening weekend of a month long hunt.

No tags were filled, but there is never a regret! Just one more animal to look forward to seeing again.

[chris4570]

Great story. I saw myself sitting in that tree, overlooking the "trail", watching the big buck come in to my shooting lane. But my story ended different.

[Sandman]

Always a pleasure to read your threads sir~!

[saxman]

Great read Mike.

Your wife is a smart lady

[hetichunter]

Great Story Mike P !!!!

Every time i see a thread that you start I know I am in for a treat.

Your talent just blows me away. But I have to admit I am so jealous of where you live and hunt. The normal hunter just does not see much less harvest the bucks that you do!

I think it is the perfect storm. A very smart and seasoned hunter in an area with huge bucks.

That palmated buck is in trouble.

[subneural]

Mike -
This is the year I turned 35. This is also the year I took up hunting. Your words express the reasons I head out on "my trails" more eloquently than my words ever could. Thank you for sharing it.

[VixChix]

Welcome Subneural!!!

[Mike P]

Your very kind subneural.

Welcome to the forum!

You will find this an entertaining and educational site to visit with some great members.