As November continued on, the "fun" was just beginning to for me. The weekend after my small unloaded gun failure, Paul and I found ourselves perched 25-feet up a pine tree on section of Alcoa gamelands in Rowan County, NC. Muzzleloaders in hand and me running the camera as well, we sat that still morning hearing duck hunters break the silence as daylight slowly crept over the trees. The occasional muzzleloader shot rang out as well, putting that feeling that "it could happen any time now" in us. And it did, just as heavy fog rolled in.
As I stared off into the morning fog around 8 a.m., Paul harshly whispered "Deer!" and on alert I went as I tried to see where the deer were, move the camera into position and direct Paul all while trying to not get caught moving or make any noise. Upon finally seeing the doe and yearling, I got the camera on the big doe and told Paul I was ready when he was. The problem was every time I thought I was ready she would move and I would lose her in the fog. This went on for what seemed like 10 minutes was probably only a minute or two. Finally she stood broadside in the middle of the logging deck we were set up beside, 50 yards away or so. I tell Paul to shoot and wait for him to. And wait. And wait. And wait some more. As I start to debate whether to go ahead and shoot her myself and wonder what in the world he is doing, she starts to move along with the yearling and it's like they disappeared into thin air. I couldn't see them. Paul couldn't see them. I still to this day have no clue where they went without us at least catching movement. As the fog lifted, ironically just a few seconds after losing sight of the deer, Paul told me he never knew there were two deer and had only had his eyes on the smaller of the two. He was confused himself when I told him to shoot the big one as he was thinking "that's not a big deer". The 5 feet difference in position on the pine tree was the fly in the ointment at that exact moment as a tree top blocked his view and I had a clear sight line to the logging deck. Back to scanning the woods we went, frustrated we couldn't pull of our first successful hunt on video.
As the 10 o'clock hour started, we began discussing the plan for the remainder of the day. I had just turned the camera off and, just as before, Paul quietly blurts out "Deer! Same trail as before." Back on the camera goes, this time I didn't have to move it into position but the star of that scene wouldn't make an appearance where I could get it in frame. Our different vantage points worked to our advantage this time as I could see the deer at certain times when Paul couldn't and vice-versa. We watched this deer slowly move around for 20 minutes. In the back of my mind, I thought sometime might be wrong with it but wasn't sure as it looked to be just browsing. Just as I thought it was going to clear the last log pile blocking it from view as it stood next to the logging road, it turned around and all I could see was bits and pieces of it's head as it was SLOWLY heading back towards where it had came. Paul didn't have any better view as he would see patches of movement but nothing else. After moving maybe 5 yards in 5 minutes, I lost all signs of movement and so did Paul. We were focused with binoculars on a small patch of weeds and shrubs for 20 minutes looking for anything resembling a deer and were rewarded with no such thing. The conclusion: this deer has bedded down 50 yards from us. Finally, at 11:15 I told Paul we have to make our own luck and to get ready. I grunted. I snort wheezed. I even yelled "Hey!". Nothing happened. I had him start climbing down as I stood up, gun at attention. No movement. He slowly crept down the road bed towards the spot, ready to shoot. Again, no movement. At this point we are talking about where the deer should be and contemplating that we imagined the whole thing. Right after I tell him the deer should literally be under his feet, I see him casually look where I tell him to (3 yards to his left) and cautiously raise his gun. "What in the hell is he doi.." Boom! "What the f..." "I got it!" I sat in disbelief. He had shot the deer right at his feet just about. I hurriedly climbed down to help him.
Turns out the deer was a button buck and had been gut shot earlier that morning sometime, hence the slow movement. Being gut shot, he had bedded down in a puddle of water right there along the road, head and part of his body buried in the tall grass and weeds. Still barely alive, Paul, unaware that the deer had been previously shot, wasn't sure what to do when he saw him 3 yards from him and whether or not the deer would jump up at any second, so he instinctively took a shot as quickly, smoothly and accurately as possible at that short a distance. While the hunt ended in success, it was bittersweet that it appeared no one made an attempt to recover the deer they had shot. Speaking of unfinished business...
-C.B.
As the 10 o'clock hour started, we began discussing the plan for the remainder of the day. I had just turned the camera off and, just as before, Paul quietly blurts out "Deer! Same trail as before." Back on the camera goes, this time I didn't have to move it into position but the star of that scene wouldn't make an appearance where I could get it in frame. Our different vantage points worked to our advantage this time as I could see the deer at certain times when Paul couldn't and vice-versa. We watched this deer slowly move around for 20 minutes. In the back of my mind, I thought sometime might be wrong with it but wasn't sure as it looked to be just browsing. Just as I thought it was going to clear the last log pile blocking it from view as it stood next to the logging road, it turned around and all I could see was bits and pieces of it's head as it was SLOWLY heading back towards where it had came. Paul didn't have any better view as he would see patches of movement but nothing else. After moving maybe 5 yards in 5 minutes, I lost all signs of movement and so did Paul. We were focused with binoculars on a small patch of weeds and shrubs for 20 minutes looking for anything resembling a deer and were rewarded with no such thing. The conclusion: this deer has bedded down 50 yards from us. Finally, at 11:15 I told Paul we have to make our own luck and to get ready. I grunted. I snort wheezed. I even yelled "Hey!". Nothing happened. I had him start climbing down as I stood up, gun at attention. No movement. He slowly crept down the road bed towards the spot, ready to shoot. Again, no movement. At this point we are talking about where the deer should be and contemplating that we imagined the whole thing. Right after I tell him the deer should literally be under his feet, I see him casually look where I tell him to (3 yards to his left) and cautiously raise his gun. "What in the hell is he doi.." Boom! "What the f..." "I got it!" I sat in disbelief. He had shot the deer right at his feet just about. I hurriedly climbed down to help him.
Turns out the deer was a button buck and had been gut shot earlier that morning sometime, hence the slow movement. Being gut shot, he had bedded down in a puddle of water right there along the road, head and part of his body buried in the tall grass and weeds. Still barely alive, Paul, unaware that the deer had been previously shot, wasn't sure what to do when he saw him 3 yards from him and whether or not the deer would jump up at any second, so he instinctively took a shot as quickly, smoothly and accurately as possible at that short a distance. While the hunt ended in success, it was bittersweet that it appeared no one made an attempt to recover the deer they had shot. Speaking of unfinished business...
-C.B.
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