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Wounded and Lost!
A hunter's nightmare
Jylyna Zedan
© February 2005
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 We read stories in hunting magazines, watch on TV, and hear all over media all the time about people shooting their deer, and having perfect shots. You may read articles about "The Big Buck That Got Away," but it seems like some hunters are too embarrassed telling their stories about wounding an animal. Though it is something you shouldn't be proud of, it does seem to happen more then people think, or are willing to admit.
Two hunting seasons ago, I was hunting in a ground blind with my grandpa Webb. It was a perfect hunting day, thirty-degree temperatures, southwest winds, not to sunny or cloudy. I knew I would be seeing some sign of deer activity that day. Hours later, we were loosing light and had seen no deer at all. I was starting to get anxious so I looked out each of the windows of the blind. From the corner of my eye, I seen the white tips of ears, and I knew that finally a deer had come in. I got my shooting sticks (personally made by Grandpa Webb) and set them up in a window that would give me the best shot. It was the very first buck that I would have the opportunity to have a shot at, and I was really nervous. I sent my gun on the shooting sticks, and adjusted the scope until that six pointer was in my cross hairs. The bucks kill zone was covered up by tagalders, and I was questioning myself on whether or not I should shoot. I saw the top of his back, and half of his body. I thought that if I saw the top of his back, I could aim lower and where I thought the front shoulder would be, I would aim there. I said a little prayer, pulled the trigger and shot. I then quickly looked to see where he might have ran, and kept an eye on him. Moments later grandpa Webb and I got out of the blind to look and see if we could find any signs of blood. We had seen nothing. I walked to where I had seen him standing when I let the shot off. I looked at every strand of grass hoping to at least find a speck of blood, and as luck had it, I had found one. I marked where I had seen it, and continued walking to find the next spot. I saw a weird looking white object that looked sort of like a flat rock. I picked it up for a closer look and saw blood spots on it. Grandpa Webb walked over to see what I had found and told me it was a piece of bone. Finding that confused us and we thought about all the possibilities of what happened, so we called my dad. He said that it could be a piece of the shoulder blade, or mostly likely, a piece of the leg bone. At that point, I was starting to get upset, I knew I shouldn't have taken that shot, we looked more hoping to find more signs of blood, but we found nothing. Grandpa decided it would be better if he called a few more people (my mom, cousins: Jeff-17, Nick-15, Grandpa, Mr. Hank, and Mr. Eric) to come help us look for him. After finding small specks of blood, and a few more bone pieces we seen no "real" great signs that I had taken the deer down. Grandpa and his friend came up with the conclusion that when I guessed where the front shoulder was, I had misjudged and aimed too low. He told me to call it a night and we would come back in the morning for one last look. The next day, the group (my mom, Jeff, Nick, and Grandpa) gave up their hunting day to help me look for it. Four hours after looking everywhere, and tracking it for hours and finally losing all sign, we decided that unfortunately I had put a bad shot on the buck and wounded him in the leg.
Most people would end the story there, but those of you who want to be the best hunter you can be, want to share their mistakes with others, and want to learn from them will talk about it. After I realized that I had just wounded that animal, I had enough respect not to give up looking for it, and realized that I would never want that to happen again. I sat for hours and hours replaying the shot, the day, and the whole trip, and I was regretting some of the things I had done. Living with that feeling was horrible and I tried my best to change some of things I would do next season. I promised myself that day, that I would never misjudge a shot again. If I need to question my shot, then I shouldn't take it at all. I learned after the 30.30 not properly fitting me, that I should not have hunted with it no matter how bad I wanted to go out there. I realized how much respect my family and I actually do have for the animals we hunt. Many hunters just would have only spent an hour at the most looking for it, and then called it quits.
I am writing today to help those who have made the same mistakes as me, but have never talked about it before. No matter how much of a great hunter you claim to be, mistakes do happen, but what separates the best hunters from the rest, are those who learn from their mistakes, and never give up.
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