Rubberhead has done what I think is a pretty excellent recap of that day's events. I will, however, add a few points from my perspective, instead of starting a new thread.
I heard what I thought was something sizeable moving through the woods near the tree line across from the stand. In anticipation I raised the rifle, laid it on the rail and waited. A small buck emerged. Not a trophy, but I counted six points and figured, "here we go". He walked out about twenty feet from the tree line and looked up at me, directly through my soul. I froze, figuring I'd been made, but he then casually lowered his head and began feeding. I steadied myself, attempted to control my breathing, and pulled the trigger. The deer looked up for a second, undeterred, and proceeded to finish his afternoon snack. 100% miss. Mr. Buck then sauntered back into the woods without a care in the world, never to be seen again. Or so I thought.
As I attempted to sift through the self-doubt and uncertainty that has so plagued me for forty-seven years, I cleared my mind enough to tell myself, "calm down, and load another round". Shortly after doing so, my quarry walked back out into the clearing from which he'd initially emerged. This time, however, he was moving with a noticeably greater sense of urgency than the first time, heading right-to-left to the other side of the clearing. My heart began to palpitate once again, and I steadied myself for another shot. He slowed-up about twenty feet from the left tree line but continued moving in that direction. Throwing-up what I considered to be the equivalent of a hail Mary, I whistled twice, which caused him to stop. He raised his head, and I pulled the trigger. He gave me the characteristic jump of a hit whitetail and then proceeded to disappear into the trees.
With my heart racing and hands shaking, all I could do is sit there in disbelief of what'd just transpired. As I reached to pick up my phone I heard a telltale crash, which exacerbated the myriad of emotions I was already experiencing. Texted the situation to Rubberhead and he said he'd be there immediately. What felt like days for him to arrive was in actuality probably about ten minutes. Easily the longest, most excruciatingly-sweet ten minutes of my life.
RH approached the stand with a grin that the phrase "shit-eating" fails to do justice. I unloaded the chamber, climbed down and did my best to remember any detail that'd help us locate what I hoped would be my first kill. As we approached the tree I deemed my primary point-of-reference, Steve muttered something, to which I replied, "do you see him?". He pointed the way, and I saw that beautiful, white belly. First one down.
I've discussed with many people, including several on here, if it's better to have been raised doing this stuff, or if it's sweeter being new to the game. I think the answer is simply, "yes". Thank y'all sincerely for all the support and encouragement. This experience will be hard to top, and the memories will undoubtedly live forever. All the way down to the big girl at the processor with the colostomy bag. God bless the LC.
- "My dad used to tell me that nothing good happens when you take your AR to an out of town riot. Or maybe it was that nothing good happens after 1:00 in the morning. I can't remember any more." - Wob
- "Any thought of romance went out the window when I saw the Ohio plates" - Squirrel Master
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