By: Roger A. Page
It was only a 4-pointer, and I say “only” to appease cynics who might otherwise demand an apology. Also, at 64 years old, I have far outdistanced the leniency, “He’s just a kid, he’ll get over it.” All I have in response is, “Oh no I won’t — and I’m happy about that.”
Back to this 4-pointer. The chase wound up more dramatic than it should have been, especially for a savvy old guy like me, but the silver lining is it makes for better storytelling.
Seeing Is Believing
I believed my shot was right on the money, but out at ground zero, I found no arrow and no blood. Promptly, then, the whole affair plummeted into a tailspin.
“You’re seeing things old man,” I muttered, knowing an arrow that passes through a broadside deer will not be a challenge to find. Contrarily, an arrow that misses its mark often buries so deeply into leaves and mud that it might take several minutes to unearth.
Right away my conclusion soured to the probability that I saw it wrong and had missed. It was a 30-yarder; not a range at which I am overly confident at, but it was a known trail and a shot that I have pulled off several times before. Plus, as I said, the deer posed broadside.
Immediately after the shot, I was convinced that I heard the deer crash to its end slightly beyond a distant ridge. But for the time being, let’s bear in mind that I am not the only hunter to have ever heard an unscathed deer crash to an imagined death — right?
Stymied by no arrow and no blood, I was left to invest full faith in this “death crash,” I’ll call it, which now loomed precariously in doubt. I should at least casually scan the area where he might have fallen, if for nothing better than to add “hearing things” to “seeing things” before throwing in the towel. My search proved fruitless, but one thing I haven’t mentioned about aging is the advent of stubbornness telling me not to quit until making a better search for my arrow.
Although I still hadn’t retrieved my arrow, I did stumble across a patch of hair and two tiny specks of blood. With renewed hope, I upped the ante on diligently searching for clues. Hope waned when I couldn’t locate a trace of blood beyond the pin drops. I concluded that I had grazed the deer. Resolving to give up on the arrow, I tried to visualize the buck racing across the side hill to its supposed death. As a last-ditch effort, I’d slowly climb the hill looking for blood.
Meticulously, I ascended the grade, my eyes tightly focused to uncover any hint whatsoever, until they nearly exploded at the sight of what can only be described as a blood trail that a blind man could follow — or as an old friend used to put it, “Up jumped a dragon.” I later discovered that the deer had taken a much wider circle during its getaway, hurtling several yards in a straight-ahead beeline before arching up onto the side hill.
It happened so lightning fast that I just didn’t see it correctly. In the aftermath, I advanced not a single step in the right direction to commence the blood trail. But who cares now? The trail became so vivid that I breathed a confident sigh and reckoned to easily find the deer. And that’s exactly what happened. He was down in tall grass at the edge of standing corn, expired with a puncture wound that one could not have walked up and placed any better.
Hunting Happiness
But, what I haven’t answered yet is the main point to this story. It all started when I read a social media post by Dan Schmidt, the longtime Editor-in-Chief at Deer & Deer Hunting. His comment really hit home, and I couldn’t shake it from my mind, as it mirrored my own feelings. I never could say it quite right. I kept looking for complexities where they weren’t merited.
Dan put it like this:
“When you stop hunting for yourself and start hunting for approval, you will find that hunting is no longer as exciting. If you live in fear of not being accepted, of worrying about what someone else might think, the road to a happy hunting lifestyle is empty, shallow and meaningless.”
And he is correct. I can be fairly certain that my glee over my 4-pointer was met with a bevy of eye rolls by some peers, specifically those routinely training their focus on giant antlers. I listen to them talk and politely hold my tongue. I notice how rarely, if at all, they speak of the woods, the smells, the sounds, the sights, the feel. Instead, it generally comes out, “Did you hear about that 150-inch slammer so-and-so got?” And their phones are weighted with images of everything from roadkills to deer that complete strangers shot. The common denominator: giant antlers.
Regarding Dan’s statement, the only thing I would change is this: When you cease hunting for approval and begin hunting for yourself, you will unleash everything hunting has to offer; of course, in doing so, you will never fret about what others think.
I honestly do believe that most of us begin, or began, hunting for approval. It is hard to imagine a youngster fully experiencing hunting without first going through some phases of seeking approval. It seems to me a sign of maturity when a hunter graduates to retiring into the woods for a good day spent no matter what the outcome.
Thankfully, I know more hunters than not who arrive at that point. We are rarely as visible or as vocal as hunters caught up in the antler chase, but nonetheless, we are everywhere.
And I can promise you this: Any hunter delighted to be dragging a 4-pointer home, hanging it in the basement, skinning it, cutting it into steaks and roasts, grinding it into burger, and deftly preparing every last ounce of it into delectable culinary fare, will never worry about a hunting lifestyle turning empty, shallow or meaningless.
Modern Hunter 