Bow hunting is a way of life, a natural order if you will. This is especially true in the traditional sense (i.e., longbow or recurve bow). I choose to hunt with traditional equipment as it affords me a deep, personal challenge in perusing game.

The traditional bow allows one to become a better hunter being limited to shorter working ranges for harvesting intended prey. I am talking 20 yards and under. It ensures that the bow hunter will almost always be successful, if they spend the time and effort in perfecting their bow hunting skills. Above all, it is paramount to possess great outdoorsman abilities.

The state of Maryland is a very diverse cornucopia of hunting environments. From steep mountainous terrain in the northwest, to the dense phragmites swamps of the southern Eastern Shore, to the beautiful mature hardwoods throughout the center of the state. The mammalian game we are afforded in Maryland are a great representative of the Mid-Atlantic region. There are white-tailed deer, sika deer, bear, and other various mammalian varieties.

Bow Hunting

Here we are, the last week of October 2017. The leaves were afire in their colorful glory. The smell of decomposing earth is like a perfume to me. Leaves are falling like snowflakes in the fleeting light of the hardwood forest. Our stands are across a field, far into the deep hardwoods, nearly a mile from our parking spot where many funnels and pinch-points steer the deer in and around areas offering them cover and a sense of security.

Upon arriving at my stand area, I ascend to my tree stand, 18 feet up, where I will remain perched for several hours. Sitting in my “set,” I look up through the fog and see the bright full moon. The visual was at best, very eerie… almost lycanthropic, if you will. On this day we had at least 45 minutes before legal light (6:26 a.m.).

Finally, as the low light gives way to the day, I let out a few bursts of “doe in estrous” scent via an aerosol unit coupled with several doe bleats. Around 7:15 a.m., I catch movement off to my right. I see deer legs, nice ones too! At about 60 yards I see that it’s a buck, but I am unsure of its true size. He walks with purpose now, towards me, and is parading in circles 15 yards in front of me. Unbeknownst to my presence, he is looking around with eager anticipation for a doe in heat. I size him up as a nice mature heavy eight-pointer of the 3.5-year-old variety.

Bow Hunting

He continues in his confusion for about ten minutes. I can smell him and hear him breathing. Now, at perhaps ten yards in front of me, he begins to destroy an overhanging branch that contained some scent I had administered earlier. He then begins to rake the ground furiously with his hooves, throwing dirt behind him as he makes his breeding scrape broadside to me.

In one fluid motion I stand and lean out, drawing the bowstring to the corner of my mouth. “Whack,” as if a camera flash went off. The arrow had entered the beast behind the shoulder. In most instances, the deer would buck like a bronco and bound away only to expire perhaps 50-75 yards away with such a lethal hit.

Within that moment, I begin to tremble somewhat uncontrollably. This physical reaction I am experiencing is called “buck fever.” Embrace it, folks; it’s an adrenal rush that every predator experiences in the harvesting of its prey.  The day a hunter does not experience this great emotion is the day he or she should re-consider their role as a hunter.

Within five seconds after the shot, the buck is standing there breathing heavily, the steam is pouring from his nostrils and his fatal wound is visible. He takes one, two, three staggering steps and is now leaning on the arm of the ladder leading to my perch. I can feel the vibration of every breath he takes. I peer over the ledge of my stand and can see he is big…really big!  Nocking another arrow, I’m wondering if I should take the downward shot offering a coup de grace.

As I begin to lean over and draw back, he simply tips over like a mighty oak and is down. Mind you, this is not the typical scenario. This is the stuff life-long memories are made of.

Bow Hunting

Waiting about ten minutes to gather myself, I slowly and carefully descend to meet my prey. I kneel next to the beast, running my hands over his thick, unspoiled coat and offer thanks to God for allowing me the opportunity to experience such bounty and beauty, and allowing me to do it safely and in good health.

Now the hard work of field dressing and dragging begins. Adrenalin is a funny thing. The buck felt like a feather the first 50 yards. Within minutes, it was as if I was dragging a full sized SUV through the woods. (Later, he weighed in at 223 pounds, field dressed).

In retrospect, the experiences one absorbs afield are personal and very cleansing. Harvesting game is anticlimactic, but it is the end game as a hunter. The opportunities to hunt, fish, trap and just plain ole spend time in nature’s bounty is the true way to spend stressful and low times. It is the natural order, and I would not have it any other way.

 

This post was written by Rich Lopez
Images courtesy of the author