The Perfect Shot

The opening day of the 2011 Archery Only D11 Zone was yesterday.  However, I spent most the day celebrating a friend’s birthday and completing long over due “honey do’s” around the house.  So today, Sunday, will be my first 2011 hunt.  Too much celebrating would make me less eager for an early morning hunt.  I left the party early Saturday night and headed home to pack my gear.  The plan – up by 0400 hours and out of the house by 0500 hours.

I love it when a plan comes together.  Unfortunately for me, this is the exception, not the rule.  I was up at 0400 hours this morning as planned, but all of the food and drink from the birthday party had a WWF Smack Down in my belly.  Suffice it to say, I did not leave the house until 0530 hours and the bathroom air fresheners were working overtime.

At 0615 hours I arrived at one of my favorite spots.  It’s a private plot of land surrounded by US Forest Service that requires hunting permission.  I planned to have the permission papers signed, but forgot that it is Sunday and the offices are closed.  Oh well, I’ll just scout the area.  It took three attempts for me to locate the area that I setup last year.  The first two attempts left me exhausted from bush whacking to the wrong areas that present little to no shot opportunities. 

The brush was so thick and I was so loud crashing through it, I’m sure I spooked game from Oregon to Arizona.  When I finally reached my “honey pot,” I sat and got right down to business…I took a nap.  The four hours spent there were uneventful, so I left to check out another favorite area on public lands.

My knee surgery was one month and two days old now, so I didn’t think there would be limitations to my hiking.  My knee allowed me to hike without pain, however at a much slower pace.  Climbing the hillsides became more difficult, also. I realize that I’m about twice the age of many active professional athletes, but how is it that they can destroy their knees and still run 4.5 second forties after surgery?  Just askin’…

As I walked the trails, I continued to glass and inhale the strong sage aroma riding the thermals crisscrossing the forest floor.  I like the smell so much I tried to make it into a cologne.  My wife vetoed the cologne project and stands sentry at the door when I return from the forest so that I remove my clothing before making the house smell like a sage farm.  The sage smell is extraordinarily overwhelming; and that is the secret to my scent control.  When I smell like sage, I don’t smell like a human to the deer I hunt, AND I can’t go home unless I get naked -- pretty fair trade-off, eh?

 

My spot and stalk hike unveils plenty of sign – scat, tracks, rubs – but no deer are in sight.  I stopped to glass the area ahead, but before I raised the binoculars to my eyes, I glanced to my right and I see the rump of a deer about 40 yards away near the top of a hill.  There is a tree directly in front of my head and a tree directly in front of the deer’s head making it impossible for us to have eye-to-eye contact.  I could see his rump and he could probably see my arms and bow.  We both stood motionless for no less than 35 minutes.  As I stood there contemplating my options, I recalled that I needed to confirm the sex and legality of the deer if I was presented with a shot.  The rear view of the “cojones” confirmed that it was a male deer.  The remaining concern was to make sure the antler size was within the legal limits.  When he finally decided that the staring contest had gone on too long, he slowly walked down the ridge about 40 yards away.  As he walked and his head became exposed, I saw that he was a massive 5 or 6 pointer.  I’m not sure of the exact count because I didn’t want to get fixated on his antlers.  I had more important business to handle.  I came to full draw on my 62 pound Acadian Woods custom longbow and kissed the knock as the brute continued down the ridge.  As he entered an area that had small trees present an unobstructed frame of his vitals, I unleashed my most reliable wooden arrow with its Zwicky single edge razor sharp broadhead.  I kept my focus on the intended impact spot as the arrow spiraled perfectly toward the kill zone.  I recall the pulsating glimmer of the freshly sharpened razor edges on the broadhead in the sunlight and the rotating brightly colored feathers as the arrow followed the planned path to a perfect heart/lung shot.  Everything was perfect – except the buck was not there when the arrow arrived.  The small string twang caused the buck to hasten his pace.  The arrow arrived at the kill zone about ½ second too late.  It was a clean miss.

This majestic buck deserved nothing less than a perfect hit or a perfect miss.  My preference is obvious, I would have been honored to harvest the animal.  I brought to bear my years of experience and practice to make the perfect shot.  The buck brought to bear his years of experience and instincts to survive. 

This was not my first encounter with this buck.  We met over 2 years ago along the same trail.  He was up hill, about 50 yards away and completely surrounded by trees and brush.  I knew that I did not have shot and it appeared that he also knew it.  We stared at one another for about 5 minutes before he turned and disappeared into the trees.  I’m hoping that our meeting today will not be our last.  Encounters like this make me a better and more appreciative hunter.

Timothy  Jones

Los Angeles County Fish and Game Commissioner 2005-2011

My gear included:

Acadian Woods custom longbow

62# at 28” draw

Cedar arrows

Zwicky single edge broadheads

Feather Fletching

Bushnell 16x32 binoculars

Timberland Boots

Homemade Ode de Sage cover scent

Military surplus camouflage outwear

“Batman” underwear