The first Saturday of the 2004 Arkansas bow season was not the kind of day that bowhunters dream of. In fact, in the southwest border town of Texarkana, it was downright ugly with hefty helpings of heat and humidity. And to make matters worse, the wind direction was completely wrong for the tree stand I had positioned next to an abandoned peach orchard on my 93 acre farm. As I peered out the back door toward the orchard, all I could do was shake my head. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day.
October 3rd was Sunday and it was afternoon before I had the chance to consider a bowhunt. Temperatures were still in the 80s, but the humidity had appreciably declined from the previous day and more important, the winds had reversed course and were now favorable for hunting the orchard stand, a location that I knew was being frequented by deer.
I had recently received a new custom Quest recurve from Bowyer and artisan, Bill Howland of Brackenbury Custom Bows. When Bill was building the bow, he emailed me pictures and the stunning combination of cocobola and leopardwood lead us to nickname the beautiful brute "The Hunk." One look at the bow after its arrival and a few shots later validated that "The Hunk" had received the appropriate moniker. Not only was this bow drop-dead gorgeous, but it sizzled arrows with authority, accurately finding its mark time and time again. I could hardly wait to get it into the woods.
The orchard stand was a short walk from my back door. About 350 yards through the horse pasture, across a fence, and into a small cluster of oak trees was where I had placed a portable tree stand. The oaks bordered the orchard with a towering stature that stood in stark contrast to the seemingly diminutive peach trees below. This was a classic transition corridor and deer loved it. Thus, I was confident that if "The Hunk" and I could brave the heat, we would have an excellent chance at getting a shot at an unsuspecting whitetail on this bright October afternoon.
It was 4:00 pm when my bow and I got settled in for what I anticipated would be a reasonably long wait for deer to emerge from the heavy cover of the orchard and begin making their way down the trail that would lead to my well-concealed location. I nocked a razor sharp Grizzly tipped carbon arrow onto the string of "The Hunk", placed the bow across my lap, and quickly used my range finder to verify yardages to my shot openings. I was ready.
At just after 5:00 pm, I caught movement to my right and was astonished to see the legs of what appeared to be two deer walking down the trail. Although I had not expected to see deer this early, it was clear that Mother Nature had them on the move so I carefully raised the bow from my lap and mentally prepared for the possibility of a shot.
As the two deer made their way down the trail I could see that they were yearlings. Considering that the previous year’s supply of venison was running exceptionally low and young deer make the tastiest of table fare, I decided to take the biggest of the two if the right opportunity was presented.
Intently I watched as the steps of the deer drew them closer to my position. At 16 feet high and hidden among the leaves of the red oak with the wind steady in my face, I felt my heart pound as with each passing second, the pair of whitetails closed the distance until stopping just 16 yards away.
The largest of the two deer was a button buck and as he stood quartering away, lowering his head to feed on some of the still green grass between the oaks and the orchard, I had already brought "The Hunk" to full draw and picked a spot behind the buck’s shoulder. It one subconscious instant, my fingers relaxed their grip on the bowstring and sent the Axis carbon shaft on its course toward the target. Frozen, I watched the arrow strike the deer at what appeared to be a perfect spot and as he bolted away into the cover of the fruit trees and orchard grass. I lowered the bow and listened in the direction of where he appeared to flee.
Twenty minutes passes slowly after an arrow has been released at a game animal, and that time can feel like an eternity when the weather is warm and a hunter’s concerns turn to getting an animal into the freezer before spoiling. I watched impatiently as the minutes passed and was relieved when I was finally able to descend the tree and take up the buck’s trail.
Frothy red blood was apparent almost instantly on the grass leading into the orchard. I followed 60 yards as it weaved between trees and through the underbrush until leading to the handsome deer, collapsed as if he had been in mid-stride and before he even knew he had been hit. Like all hunters who have experienced such moments, I felt my self breathe an audible sigh of relief.
Upon examination of the young buck, I discovered that my arrow had broken a rib on entry, penetrated the chest cavity, and completely shattered the off foreleg bone on exit. The performance of this projectile combination propelled by my 47# Brakenbury Quest, was truly impressive. Even during all the years I shot higher poundage compound bows, I never experienced anything quite like this. As a result, there was no question that "The Hunk" had earned his place as a permanent resident of my hunting household.
After a few quick and sweaty pictures, I got the deer field dressed, quartered and into the freezer. Since I was only minutes from home, valuable time was saved that preserved the quality of this animal’s meat for future consumption despite the warm temperatures. And since the flesh from this deer was intended to supply as much sustenance to the body as the hunt for him provided to the soul, I was grateful that I was so close to home, grateful for the clean kill, and grateful for "The Hunk" that brought this wonderful beast to bag.
