As I stood on the platform of my sturdy and trusty Summit climbing tree stand, I found myself reaching for the security of touching the tree each time I turned to face another direction. My Summit is a rock-solid hunting platform and I was securely tethered against the worst gravity could do. Still, the slightly-leaning tree I was in, tilted the very end of my stand up a bit making me less than comfortable at times.
As daylight grew, and I scanned the late-fall woods for the telltale movement of game, I couldn’t help but remember my very first successful bow hunt in “The Bucket Stand”. By today’s standards, the rickety Bucket Stand would have been condemned years before I launched my successful arrow from it. My cousin Don and I had built it with scraps of lumber scrounged around the farm. Ingress and egress was by way of miscellaneous planks of dubious integrity center-nailed to the trunk of the pin oak. The hunter ascended some 15 feet on this rickety ladder and hauled their chosen weapon aloft with several pieces of bailing twine that were linked together. The 5 gallon bucket used as a seat had disappeared some years prior so I typically just sat on the platform with my legs dangling. The hope was to spot an approaching deer with enough time to climb to my feet and grab my bow.
As I thought fondly of the many afternoons spent in the Bucket Stand, I decided to force myself to let go of the tree, put my hands in my hand muff, and relax and watch. With some effort, I turned away from the tree and tried to relax.
It wasn’t bad enough that the bucket stand was nothing more than weathered planks strapped across two ever-moving pin oak branches, I learned early on that I could leave the stand and clamber out on a limb and inch my way out to see further down the field to my right. This, in fact, is how I spotted the first deer I ever killed. I made a dozen trips out that limb that afternoon moving out until the limb started to bend dangerously. Then I’d lean out and look along the hedgerow to see what was taking the deer so long to get to me. Bear in mind, tree stand safety lines were not a thing back then. Even if they were, I couldn’t have afforded one. I’m sure my Mom wouldn’t have slept at night if she knew of even half my arboreal antics.
My forced adjustment and relaxation didn’t last long. I decided the most likely place for the deer to come from was behind me so I turned toward the tree and leaned in. It’s funny how our perception of things changes with age and wisdom. Wisdom, however, might suggest that spending most weekend mornings hovering 15-20′ off the ground against the will of gravity isn’t all that wise.
Despite being uncomfortable in some setups, it is not always the case. Just a week or so before, I was setup in a favorite tree in NJ. It is probably the tree I am most familiar with and where I have killed, by far, the most deer I have taken from any tree. It helps that the stand sits very level and the ground below is level.
That particular morning had been a good one. I hadn’t hunted the stand much for a year or so. For some reason, what has always been a great spot went cold in 2022 so I only hunted there once and hadn’t seen a thing. But my New Jersey location was alive with bucks this year and my old tree was once again a hot spot. I had arrived early enough to get setup well ahead of daylight. Once I am in the tree and my equipment ready, I sit for a bit and settle in and let my eyes adjust to the dark. As I sat, unseen small creatures crinkled in the leaves below me. A pair of great horned owls loved-talked not far away. In the distance, a fox barked.
Light crept in from the east and I kept careful watch for deer-like shadows and listened for the telltale crunch, crunch, crunch of deer hooves in leaves. As shooting light approached I stood up just in case. More than once I have been caught sitting down at dawn only to find an unseen and unheard buck standing a few yards away.
I have hunted this same tree dozens and dozens of times and know the distance to every tree, grass clump and weed within 50 yards. Still, I pulled my rangefinder out of my pack at first light and was verifying a couple distances. Suddenly, I heard the unmistakeable sounds of a deer moving through the woods behind me. Rangefinder still in hand, I looked over my shoulder and saw a large bodied deer moving through the brush, his antlers clearly visible. The law requires 3 antler points or more on one side for a buck to be legal to shoot. Even with my problematic 57 year old vision and the low light, this deer was obviously legal and coming fast. I pocketed my rangefinder and turned 180 degrees in the stand grabbing my bow from its hanger along the way. At no point did any sort of fear of heights make my movement less smooth or more cautious.
I reached a hand up and flipped my glasses off my head. I need to remove them to shoot my bow accurately. Did I mention 57 year old eyes?
The buck’s head went behind a tree and I silently drew my bow. I expected him to pop out about 30 yards to my east but he angled toward me and stepped into an opening a touch over 20 yards away. I lined up my shot through my peep sight, and made sure of my anchor just as the buck turned slightly quartering away which is the perfect angle for almost any weapon to quickly and cleanly kill a large animal. My green pin floated mid body and the arrow was on it’s way. I saw and heard it hit home and the buck mule-kicked and took off. I watched as he disappeared through the woods but felt like he would not go far. As he ran, I could see my green arrow knock slightly protruding at what appeared to be a good angle. I felt good about the shot.
I hung my bow up and was going to grab my thermos for a post-shot cup of coffee when I saw another buck walking through the field to my west. You can only kill one buck but that doesn’t stop me from having fun. I grabbed my grunt call and gave a few grunts. The buck stopped and looked my way. I recognized him immediately as a good 7 pointer I have several pictures of. The buck continued on his journey down the field seemingly ignoring my calls. I saw him turn into the woods about 100 yards away. I put my grunt call away and retrieved my thermos. As I was sipping coffee, I heard a twig snap and discovered the 7 pointer had come back up through the woods to investigate the mystery buck that was grunting. Ultimately he came right to the base of my tree. He never knew I was there.
My shot occurred a bit after 7:00a.m. The sun wouldn’t be up completely until after 8:00. I decided to wait for full daylight to pick up the blood trail I hoped would be good. For the next hour I continued to watch for deer and other wildlife moving and standing on my platform in complete comfort. Finally, with the sun up, I climbed down and picked up the trail.
A hunter is always nervous at the beginning of a track. Despite knowing a good shot was made, doubt begins to gnaw moments afterwards. What if my arrow didn’t hit where I really thought? Was it too far back? Did I really hit him? I hope it wasn’t a bad shot! But the sight picture had been clear and the shot calculated and steady. I was pretty sure the track would be successful.
I walked to where the deer was when I shot. Nothing there but some kicked up leaves which is not unusual. I made my way to the beginning of the trail the deer took through the underbrush. Fresh red paint was splattered across the leaves and the trunk of a small tree. This was really good blood sign and I began to track. I expected a mortally hit deer to have turned into the thick brush to my left but the trail stayed straight toward the open woods and, more importantly, my truck! Blood sign continued to be easy to follow for about 50 yards. A well-hit deer will typically run anywhere from 50-100 yards before death. This is not an agonizing death by any means. It is very fast but deer can go a long way in a few seconds. I peered ahead into the woods and saw a large, brown body laying in a sunny spot. The buck had died on the run. There is no feeling like a quick end to a successful track for a bowhunter.
Back to the present day, I found myself watching behind me, facing the tree with one hand placed on the reassuring trunk. Suddenly, I saw a buck sneaking through the edge of the woods above me. A quick look with the binoculars quickly showed him to be legal. He had a good, wide rack, two big tines, and a brow tine on at least one side. That was all I needed to see. I grabbed my grunt call and tooted. To my surprise, a doe I hadn’t seen but whom the buck was obviously following popped on to the trail just 30 yards from me and she had locked on to the grunt call. Fortunately, she didn’t really seem too worried about the blob in the tree. I ignored her and focused on the buck. He was coming my way just inside the woods and coming fast. Still holding the tree, I reached around and grabbed my bow. I flipped my glasses off and got ready as the buck disappeared behind a tree. I had the bow in my right hand, and my left on the tree trunk. I’m not sure how I thought I was going to shoot without letting go of the tree.
I watched the doe who was watching me. The movement of picking up my bow had caught her attention. The buck was invisible behind the tree. I could just see the occasional tail flick. He turned back toward the doe and I thought if he took a step or two forward I’d have a shot. I knew the distance. Around 25-26 yards. He stepped out and I let go of the tree and drew my bow. It felt like the first time I’d ever shot my bow. Mentally, I was uncomfortable and nervous. The string came back and I couldn’t see my sights or though the peep. I adjusted my head, felt the knot I use as a kisser button, kind of lined up my top green sight with brown fur and triggered the shot. In my mind I thought I saw the arrow hit in a good spot. After the fact, I know it could not have been. I barely had a sight picture. I’m not really sure what that sight picture looked like. The deer was further than 20 yards which is the pin I vaguely used. The whole shot was an embarrassing debacle like a raw beginner would make.
The buck dashed up through the woods and stopped about 80 yards away. He stood and looked around. I worried I had gut shot him but he didn’t hunch up or otherwise even act like he’d been hit. The doe hung out by me for quite a while knowing something was up but not leaving. The buck walked through the woods and disappeared out of sight. I tried to see where he was hit in my binoculars but could see no sign. Perhaps I missed? I studied the area of the shot with my binoculars and quickly found a drop of blood on a leaf. Apparently I didn’t miss but kind of wished I had.
Again the shot had been fairly early and I decided to give it time both for better tracking light and to give the deer time in case the shot was fatal but less than ideal. In the back of my mind I hoped I’d walk up around the trail and find him laying just out of sight. Somehow I knew that wouldn’t be the case but I’ve been surprised before. At the time, I think I was in denial about just how bad of a decision my shot had been.
I climbed down from my slightly cockeyed perch and took up the trail. Not surprisingly, the buck wasn’t laying just out of sight. I picked up the blood trail which looked pretty good though the blood lacked the tiny air bubbles which indicate a lung or heart shot. Still, it was pretty plentiful and I easily followed it through the woods and up through the yards of the neighboring properties. Fortunately the deer stayed mostly in the strips of woods though the neighbors are all amenable to hunting. It was early on a cold Saturday and nobody was outside to be alarmed by a camouflaged form sneaking through the wood line. This is the first time I ever had a deer go up the hill through the houses. I didn’t consider that to be a good indicator. Eventually the buck crossed the road. I easily found the crossing point but wasn’t sure of the property owners across the street. Happily, a fellow bow hunter and neighboring property owner was outside doing chores and together we picked up the trail.
The further we went, the more my heart sank. For an unfortunate number of hunters deer are nothing more than a living, reactive target. If they mess up on one they hurry back to the stand and try again. This is not the case for me. My goal is to be a smart enough hunter to only take shots I’m sure of and then be proficient enough with my chosen weaponry to ensure a clean kill. When that doesn’t go to plan, I find it mentally devastating.
On one hand, it is frustrating to know I have worked all year long for that chance at a buck and I blew it when if finally came about. That in itself is disappointing but far more importantly, I know that I have caused an injury, no matter how minor, to an animal that was otherwise having a great day until I came along. With all hunting but especially when using archery gear, the shot has got to be perfect. That means the animal is relaxed and unaware you are about to fling an arrow at it. The shot is open and at an angle conducive to an arrow piercing vital organs causing a quick, humane kill, and within a reasonable range the hunter is proficient at. Too many guys think because they can hit a target accurately at longer distances that they can shoot at a deer at those same distances. But a deer isn’t a target. It’s a living, breathing, moving animal. Lots of things can go wrong over distances.
This is not the time for me to be judgmental except in judging myself. Steve and I tracked the deer for about a 1/2 mile up through the rural backyards and hedgerows beyond the road and far from my friend Joe’s property where I hunt. The blood went from fairly liberal to a few drops to nothing. We lost the trail altogether at the edge of a grassy backyard. I turned to Steve, thanked him for his help and said “Well. That’s my buck tag.”
As we walked back from the track, Steve confided that he didn’t feel like that buck was dead and it seemed probably to be a superficial wound that clotted up pretty quick. “Pete, I wouldn’t burn your buck tag.” Perhaps he is right. I don’t know. If I hadn’t acted like a combination of Bozo the Clown and Mr. Magoo when I took the shot, perhaps I’d have a better idea of where the arrow hit. I can only hope the injury I caused was minor and the buck recovers. It is amazing what they can deal with. My New Jersey 7 pointer had, in fact, been shot once earlier this season. There was a nasty gash across his back where an arrow had gone just under the skin.
I know no hunter is perfect. I know I know how to be successful in the field. After all I’d done it just a week before with a perfect bow kill. All that was out the window though. The wounded buck sent me into a mental tailspin. If you know me, few things in life send me into a depressive, self-depracating low. Wounding and losing a deer is one of those things. A few years back, I quit bowhunting for almost a year due to a similar occurrence. Knowing wounding and loss is always a risk with hunting, one could ask “Why do you continue?” and it’s a fair question.
In the hours that followed, I said a lot of mean, nasty things to myself. I grew angry and grumpy at the world but mostly me. I’m glad nobody was around to hear the things I said about myself while driving home after my failed hunt. They weren’t very nice and probably (or at least I hope) not true.
Eventually rational thought began to creep in. What can I learn? What can I do different? Why would I panic like a rookie hunter with buck fever after 47 years of hunting and hundreds of successful shots? Hold on, I’ve been hunting 47 years!? Good lord I’m old.
The first take away from the day was not to shoot when things aren’t right. I knew this but I guess once in a while it needs to be reinforced. When I drew back and wasn’t properly lined up, something was wrong and I should have let down. I think was due to lack of quality practice. Don’t misunderstand: I shoot my bow 2-3 times a week all year long including during hunting season. But I go to the range and shoot in my sweatshirt and ball cap and not with my hunting clothes, face mask and gloves. Nor do I shoot ever from my tree stand except when hunting. That will change going forward.
The next big takeaway is comfort in the tree stand. I am not the first aging hunter to feel less comfortable 15-20′ off the ground than when I was younger. The days of dancing out on the branches of a pin oak without a safety line are long gone along with the days of no-pad tackle football. Heck a few days prior to my unsuccessful shot, I had another buck chase a doe onto a trail below me. I was in a tree that faced down hill. I was only about 14 feet up, but with the sloping hillside it seemed like 50 or 60. The buck stood in the cover for the longest time with me trying to determine if it was legal or not. All the while I had my bow in my hand ready to draw but kept my butt pressed against the tree behind me. I was almost relieved not to have identified the buck as the 6 pointer he was before the shot opportunity passed because I’m not confident I would have stood to draw my bow properly had he been legally. The end result probably would have also been a failed shot.
I think a change of tree stand strategy is probably in order. My current stand is an “open” model that doesn’t offer a bar or rail. Granted a rail isn’t going to keep you from falling if things go south far enough but I feel like the mental fear of falling is far greater than the reality of actually falling. I feel like a rail may lend some confidence. I’ve never tried a rail with a bow because I’ve always felt it would be in the way.
The other major factor in treestand comfort is whether the platform is level or not. Oddly, a stand angled downward slightly is less worrisome to me than one angled up even a little. One would think it would be the opposite but that upward tilt always makes footing a little unstable.
I know I sound like a big sissy. No hunter that has been in trees for the last 47 years should feel all that nervous but perhaps wisdom, age, and a slight bit of vertigo I sometimes get (thanks Mom!) add up to make me more cautious. I’ve also had a couple past brushes with gravity. One just last year. I’m not the first hunter to feel this way. In fact, most hunters I know reduce altitude a lot as they age. Unfortunately, being elevated is still the most effective way to take deer with a bow.
Today was November 12th and was one of the few Sundays where hunting was allowed in Pennsylvania. Yes, PA is still stuck in the religious blue law age. It was a perfect day to be in the woods. Cold, still, and clear. The rut is on heavy. But instead of hunting, I took my bow, hunting clothes, and stand to the practice range and spent an hour or more flinging arrows from my stand set at different heights and angles. Going forward, I am going to look into using a different type of stand. Hopefully one with a rail and the ability to be leveled when up in the tree. If the rail limits my shots a bit, so be it. That is better than taking a poor, nervous shot and causing unintended suffering.
Bring it On 