The Hog Blog

On Saturday afternoon, after about three hours of sweating, crashing through the cat-claws and spider webs, and being eaten alive by chiggers and mosquitos, I had a really bad feeling.  As the blood trail seemed to evaporate into thin air and the ground was crisscrossed with fresh tracks and trails, it was looking like I’d be bringing home another sad tale of lost game.  We’d covered almost every nook and cranny on my brother’s little place, with no further sign of my deer.  The blood first looked like someone had turned on a spigot, then suddenly became a few scant drops about fifteen yards apart… and then… nothing.

So let’s back up.

Saturday was the opening day of the NC archery season, and as a birthday gift, my mom offered to fly me back home for the event.  I couldn’t turn that down, even if there were no hunt, since I haven’t seen the family in a while.  I booked the tickets, and on Friday morning I was on the ground and saying, “hello” to my old Carolina home.

My brother, Scott, had done plenty of pre-scouting, and had even hung a stand for me in the woods near mom’s place.  That would allow me to maximize the hunting-to-visiting ratio, since I could walk to the woods from the house.  Unfortunately, that property is being sold off and my brother lost his hunting rights.  We regrouped, and returned to his property down the road.  He’s got a ton of deer there, and since I’m meat hunting, I really didn’t need to find a monster (although he’s got a couple of real nice bucks there). 

Saturday morning at first light found me up the tree.  The stand is set on top of a dirt mound, which put me about 25 feet up from the ground.  It’s the same stand I was in last year when I had the sad tale of the lost buck that became bear food, but I didn’t let that bother me.  In fact, I decided to use the same arrow and broadhead I’d used then… sort of pushing back against luck. 

Before light, several deer had moved through the thicket behind me, but after that things were pretty quiet until around 0900.  I heard a deer blow a little ways up the trail.  I couldn’t tell what it was blowing at, and didn’t hear anything bolt through the woods, so I stood up and started looking around.  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught something through the brush directly behind me.  Sure enough, a big old doe was meandering along the trail. 

I eased around and lifted the Mathews off the hook, then turned ever-so-slowly back to face the deer.  She was oblivious, but moving painfully slowly.  Finally, she entered a clear spot.  When her head went behind a tree, I drew, and when the near leg moved forward, I let the arrow fly.

Now I haven’t shot a lot of arrows at a lot of animals, but most of those shots I have taken were errant.  The thing is, there’s always a moment after you release that I have to wonder if I just screwed up.  And usually, I did.  But this time there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that I was looking at a dead deer.  The chartreuse and white fletchings lasered right into the spot I’d aimed at, and angled through perfectly to stick in the ground on the other side.  It looked textbook from where I was standing, and in my mind a cheer went up… finally!

The doe hopped the creek, and I could see her for about fifty yards through the oaks and briars.  She disappeared, and then things went quiet.  I didn’t hear her crash, but I was certain she’d laid down and gone to sleep.  I glassed the arrow, and even from 17 yards away I could see it was well-covered in blood. 

I sat back down in the stand and played with the video camera for a few minutes… trying to be patient so as not to push too soon.  I may have lasted 20-30 minutes, which may not usually be enough time, but I was extremely confident in the shot.  I just knew the deer was laying there, already dead.  The day was warming up fast, and I was excited, so down the ladder I went.

The arrow looked and smelled perfect.  It was soaked in blood, and it smelled like a chest cavity (distinct smell if you’ve ever dressed a deer).  There was no blood at the spot, though, which was kind of odd.  I followed the tracks across the creek, and up on the bank I found my first drops.  It was scarce at first, then becoming a solid splash of red on the oak leaves and low branches.  I moved along in confidence as the trail avoided the thick stuff and stayed in the open path… a sure sign of a well-hit animal.  When the trail veered off into the thick stuff, that’s where I’d find her.

But suddenly the blood just seemed to stop.  She’d turned off the spigot!  I figured that she’d bled out and I’d find her under a bush or blowdown, but I didn’t.  WTF?  I kept backtracking to the last blood, then circling out on likely trails.  When that didn’t pan out, I circled out on unlikely trails too.  Still, nothing.  I went back to the last spot and stood there, scanning the ground and trying to think. 

Then there was a drop, barely visible on an overturned leaf.  I moved up and stood there scanning again.  About ten feet away I saw a glistening spot, and on investigation it was another drop of blood.  I found one more, and then was stumped. 

My brother had come out of his stand, and I heard him out at the barn so I hollered for him to come over and give a hand.  But try as we might, we couldn’t find another single drop!  We crawled on hands and knees, pushed through brambles, and spread our search out until we’d eventually gridded the entire 20 acre woodlot.  He even brought in his dog, but she got hung up in the same place we did.

After about three hours, hot, scratched, bug-bitten, and hungry, we decided to back off and get some lunch.  Back at the truck, we talked about what happened.  We were both at a total loss.  We consider ourselves pretty fair trackers, and we’ve found some tough animals, but this one looked to have given us the slip.  Still, we kept thinking back to last year’s buck… it turned out to have been laying less than 50 yards from where my brother gave up the search.  And the year before, we kept almost giving up and then going back to look some more, until we found his doe.  Persistence pays in the tracking game… but this one had really maxed us out. 

In frustration, I took the unlucky arrow, laid it across the running board of Scott’s truck, then stomped it in half.  We loaded up and went back to mom’s place for sandwiches.  He was going to run home and shower and get a short nap, then we’d decide what to do about my deer.  The options seemed slim.  Either go back and look some more, or call it a loss.  Neither of us wanted to give up, but it didn’t look good.  He drove off, and I stretched out on the couch.

I was sleeping pretty hard when I heard Scott’s ringtone (an elk bugle) on my cell phone.  I rolled off the couch and answered.  “Is it time to go already?”

“Hey,” he said.  “Get over here to my barn and skin your damned deer!” 

On his way home, he’d thought about one trail we didn’t search.  (This is the benefit of having such an intimate knowledge of your property.)  He walked down that trail, and then started up a side trail on a whim.  A few yards in, he hit blood.  A couple hundred yards later, he found my doe.  The shot had been exactly where I’d described it, and he was purely amazed at how far she’d run. 

While waiting for me to arrive, he went ahead and gutted her to avoid spoilage.  In the process, he performed a little post-mortem.  Two things conspired to almost cost me my deer.  First, this doe had unusually tiny lungs.  My shot had been nearly textbook, but I only passed through one of her lungs. 

The second factor was probably the extreme angle.  I was 25′ up and 17 yards away.  The doe was stepping down the creek bank, and quartering slightly away.  My arrow went in about 2/3 up and about six inches behind the shoulder, and exited a few inches above and behind the off-side “armpit”.  It went just behind the heart, and completely severed the esophagus (yuck!).  How it missed the second lung is beyond me, but there ya go.  And even so, it’s amazing how she managed to go so far with the massive internal injuries! 

I can’t thank my little brother enough for his perseverance and patience, not to mention for all the effort he always takes to try to make sure I have a great hunt whenever I go back home.  By finding this deer, he really salvaged my confidence in archery tackle… and possibly my entire future as a bowhunter.  As much as I love everything that goes into archery hunting, I don’t take lost animals lightly, and this would have been my fourth (two hogs with the recurve, and the little buck from last year).  I was seriously contemplating surrendering the bow for good…

By the way, you’ll see the sign I’m holding in the picture.  Accent Outdoor Adventures is my brother, Scott’s new guide service.  He’s offering whitetail hunts in southeastern NC and in South Carolina as well.  He also guides waterfowl during the season along the Cape Fear River.  If you’re interested in a hunt, give him a call at 910-612-1620. 

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