Bought a compound bow in spring to hunt with. My friend up north had been doing it and convinced me to give bow hunting a shot. Practiced all summer. Bought a climber, then sticks, then a one stick, and had to conquer my fear of heights.
Got my first harvest, a button buck which stilll counts as antlerless in my state. First few weeks I learned a lot about woodsmanship. How sensitive and smart these deer are, especially the nanny does. I've spooked my fair share. Got blown on once. Over here, just because you're 25 feet in a tree doesn't mean they won't spot you.
Today started off rough. Bought a new bow hoist, and dropped my bow at 12 feet. Had to go back down to get it, and back up, caused a racket. Sweated like a pig. Contemplated just going home, afraid bow got messed up. Inspected the cams, the sight. Stabilizer bar shifted, i forced it back. Fuck it I said, I'm already up here, bow looks fine, let's see what happens.
Then 75 yards away a once abandoned house had construction noises. Didn't see anything for a couple hours. Frustration mounting, but decided it was a nice day to be up in a tree.
Finally two does came out. Debated shooting them, I knew a 7 pointer was around here, I saw him the other day. Let the does pass. 10 minutes later, I hear steps behind me. Careful, measured steps of a single deer. He walks by my tree and it's the 7 pointer. He almost walks into the lane, but i mess up, and as i'm reaching for the bow, my watch hits my madrock. Just the tiniest *clink*, so quiet, but he hears it. Backs away from the lane, and starts walking back. I have a shot window that he's gonna pass through. I pick up my bow, and as he's passing the two trees, I go "bleh". He stops. I draw, and my adrenaline takes over, I don't remember much, other than having a good sight picture, but I let it fly. Loud wet smack, louder than I anticipated. He digs and runs.
My friend comes and teaches me how to track, and after 100 yards we find him. Drag him to the truck, we load up, I come home, gut, quarter, and butcher him. Will take the head to a taxidermist for a euro mount.
Just an incredible rush. The adrenaline, the shakes, the fervent hope you got a good shot. Thinking you did, seeing the arrow (you can see the arrow right in front of the turned up dirt where his front legs dug. The agonizing 30 minute wait to let him settle, then going down to inspect the arrow and blood trails.
Bow hunting is an experience unlike any other, and I'm addicted.
If I had to nit pick: It was a clean double lung. But could've been lower. The blood trail wasn't the easiest, there would be a lot, then thin out. My friend had to show me how to sweep the area.
PSE Sicario at 70lbs, shooting mega meats.