So the next morning I sent CA to the stand where I’d had a close call with this buck…
Unfortunately there were deer at the food plot when he walked in before light. He wasn’t sure what he spooked but he only saw a spike after the sun came up.
I was a few miles away chasing the three bucks from last night. My plan was to hide among some catch pens at the head of a tree line I suspected they would cross before bedding down in some tall prairie grass. The plan worked nearly perfectly. I had 100 yard shots on the first and second bucks, the first being the tall 8, and the second being a very good 9, but I never had a shot at the big guy. I figured he was down in a small wash when he crossed through, but I wasn’t sure. In total 6-8 deer passed by over 15 minutes or so. Immediately I started debating the decision not to shoot the good 9. He was heavy, had good length, and appeared to be old. Had I never seen the other buck I would have shot him in a heartbeat and been tickled. With less than 2 days to go, I may have just let greed cost me a great buck…
For the afternoon I sent CA after the buck from this post. I felt like I had devised a plan to cut the maximum shot distance from the expected path of the bucks to around 250 yards. I left early to make sure I was in place before they started their afternoon feeding pattern. And the plan almost worked perfectly (sound familiar?)… As I slipped down a grassy waterway to where I would set up shop, I heard what sounded like a truck driving through the brush… And it was him. He hadn’t passed through this morning at all, but rather he’d stopped short and bedded in the waterway while all the other deer went on through my ambush. And now I’d just busted him out of the county. I took a few minutes to curse myself and debate my next move. I decided to follow through with my plan anyway. The area was new to me and I could learn something for a future hunt… besides who knows what else might be around…
The tall 8 made his appearance just like I had it planned.
The heavy 9 also made a brief appearance, but never offered a shot. For most of the evening I was watching waterfowl fly overhead and cursing my stupidity… Then I heard what sounded like an incoming mortar shell… It was a duck who was headed right at me, obviously wounded. He never flapped his wings as he crashed and rolled in the cut beans right in front of me.
I assumed he would either die quickly, or I would ring his neck when I got up to leave to save him from the unpleasant reality of being coyote food… But around dark he had a miraculous recovery and flew off. Very strange.
In the dark I headed back to the cabin wondering if I should go somewhere completely different in the morning…
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