The West Texas wind blew unseasonably warm across the sunny Schleicher County morning as my hunting partners and I sped toward the hunting lodge that would be our home for the next four days of December. There, just outside the dusty little town of Eldorado, a place of menacing prickly pear and gnarled mesquites, is a veritable Mecca for America’s favorite big game animal: the whitetailed deer.

This was my seventh consecutive year to make my annual pilgrimage to bowhunt with my good friend Gerald Altmann, owner of Fort Mckavett Outfitters. In the previous six years, I had killed five good bucks on the ranches managed by Gerald, and thus always looked forward to returning to chase the abundant deer population I knew existed.

All of the previous bucks I had killed on this West Texas bowhunt had been taken using modern archery equipment. Although I had already made my conversion to traditional bowhunting gear by the time I had arrived to hunt during the 2002 season, taking my greenish hued verawood Marriah Thermal recurve to do the honors, the hunting gods simply refused to smile on my plan to take my first traditional whitetailed buck during that trip. Instead, after missing a close shot on a deer that jumped the string, the Green Thermal and a carbon arrow connected on a fat mature doe to fill the larder near the end of the hunt. I was grateful for the doe and excited to have a made a good shot, but I was already anticipating next year and the hope of avenging the honor of my beloved bow by adding a whitetailed buck to the bag.

Now it was 2003 and the Green Thermal and I were looking for a chance to get even with the resident West Texas buck population. I had practiced all Spring and Summer almost daily with a new arrow and broadhead combination and even had the opportunity to try my luck on a recent hog hunt that had resulted in a nice sow for the freezer, so I was confident that given the right opportunity, the Green Thermal would do it’s job if I could do mine.

Ironically, the first afternoon of my hunt saw me in the same tripod stand where I had both missed and connected on deer during the previous year’s hunt. It was in my view, the perfect bowhunting stand for the traditional archer. The height was only six feet, minimizing the effects of severe downward angles. And even better, the stand was set up for shot distances that would likely be in the 15 yard range. While the stand had good visibility to the surrounding pasture, it also offered excellent concealment to the location in front where deer were likely to appear, thus increasing the likelihood of drawing the bow undetected. A final feature of the stand, and one I particularly liked, is that it was strategically placed in the middle of a small group of cedar trees. The aromatic scent of the cedar helps create an extra measure of cover scent that is both familiar to the deer and completely natural.

I crawled into my stand at 4 PM to warm, gusty, southern winds and temperatures near 70 degrees Fahrenheit, something far different than I had experienced during previous hunts at this time of year. As always, before settling in for the afternoon hunt, I drew my bow, bringing the string to full draw several times to check limb clearance and loosen up my muscles before nocking an arrow and beginning my vigil. Upon making one final check of my equipment, I positioned the Green Thermal for ready access, applied my face paint, and waited in the fading afternoon sun for action.

Just after 5 PM, a young, tall-tined eight pointer arrived on the scene and began to feed. Within 20 minutes, several other bucks had also begun making appearances near my stand, all cautiously approaching from down wind, but none more than 20 yards from my position.

The bucks varied in age from 1 ½ years to 3 ½ years with antler points from five to eight. This late in the season, with the rut wrapped up for yet another year, the bucks were feeding aggressively in an attempt to regain precious weight before the onslaught of Winter weather that was sure to follow this unseasonable warm snap.

As a matter of fact, weather forecasts for the remainder of our week indicated declining temperatures, with morning lows in the mid 20’s and highs in the high 50’s to low 60’s. There was even a chance of rain, something that was not an appealing thought from the perspective of hunting, but was desperately needed to quench the parched soil and promote the growth of adequate winter forage to see the deer population through to Spring.

At about 5:30 PM another eight pointer entered the arena. Though this deer also appeared to be a 3 ½ year old, his stocky build, aggressive posturing and broken tine off his right main beam made it obvious that he was a scrapper. He pinned his ears and raised his hair to warn any potential competitors that this particular feeding area was now his and that he would clearly not hesitate to defend it.

As I watched the buck parade back and forth in front of my position, I felt my left hand tighten around the grip of the Green Thermal. I had already decided that if I had a standing, broadside shot at the deer, that I would take it.

Minutes seemed to pass in slow motion as I waited for the opportunity to raise my bow and draw the arrow. Finally, at 5:45 PM, just as the buck appeared to be turning to leave, he hesitated with his body nearly broadside. Without a thought, I concentrated on a spot behind the shoulder, brought the 47 pound Green Thermal to full draw and watched the 260 grain Magnus tipped carbon arrow disappear into the side of the deer. As the buck bolted and ran for cover, I saw the blood soaked arrow on the ground and was certain I had made a lethal shot.

Twenty minutes passed before I grabbed my bow and trail marking tape, and exited the tripod. With dark approaching I wanted to try to recover the buck before nightfall and given the look of the frothy blood on the arrow, I did not anticipate the task to take very long.

I picked up the blood trail close to where I saw the deer disappear from sight. It was a fair blood trail, but certainly not as heavy as I expected to see. Closer inspection revealed why. Blood was sprayed in small droplets about every 10 to 15 feet. Occasionally, mixed in were larger droplets of dark red blood. This combination told me that I had likely hit only one lung on the deer and possibly the liver. I decided to be patient, go slow and work the trail cautiously, backing off to give it more time if the trail diminished.

Fortunately, after almost 40 minutes and nearly 130 yards, I saw the white belly of the deer. He had collapsed and died between two small cedars. I was relieved and grateful to have made the recovery on this beautiful animal.

In the now declining light, I grabbed his antlers and began dragging him toward the road, Green Thermal clutched in my left hand as I navigated the loose rock and prickly pear of the pasture. When I arrived at the ranch road to wait for Gerald to pick me up, I looked at the bow lying there next to the buck and smiled at the results of my year of practice and patience since I had last hunted at this location. Not only had I been able to take my first traditional whitetailed buck, but also avenge the honor of my closest hunting companion. I smiled at the thought of it and at the fact that in some instances, revenge really can be sweet!