Pennsylvania Game News - November 2013 - 4

couldn't take my eyes off his impressive
headgear, and could not believe that
I'd finally get a shot. When the buck
came to within 25 yards, I slowly came
to full draw but with his straight-on approach, couldn't take the shot. At full
draw I continued holding as the buck
approached, closer and closer. When
he got within 15 yards he stopped and
turned. I released the arrow and it
angled into his chest cavity. The buck
took off running and stopped about
80 yards away in the heavy laurel.
I watched him for the next several
minutes, catching only glimpses of him
moving his head left and then right.
I must tell you that those few minutes were extremely difficult. I had
waited four years for this moment and
thought I had made a bad shot. I can
relay no words to express how I was
feeling. After a minute or two, the buck
bedded down. I could hear him rustling
the leaves, but the heavy laurel prevented me from seeing him. After a few
minutes all was silent. I slowly hung up
my bow and continued watching and
listening. An hour passed and all was
silent. It was now 9:30 and I decided to
sit tight until noon. The hours passed
unbelievably slowly.
At noon I quietly climbed out of
the tree and located where the buck
had been standing at the time of the
shot, and after about 20 yards found
a few drops of blood. I continued on
the trail and now the blood was really
pouring out. When I came around a
heavy patch of laurel I stopped, slowly
scanning the woods in front of me.
I looked to my right and there not
10 yards away lay the Lumpy-Throat
Buck. I tried to run toward him but I
couldn't, as my knees suddenly went
weak. With trembling hands I humbly
4

knelt down beside the old monarch,
trying to take it all in. The feeling was
absolutely unbelievable, and without
question it was the highlight of my 20
years of bowhunting. There are certain
moments in life where feelings just simply cannot be conveyed through words,
and this was one of those moments.
A week later I went into where I
had taken the buck. I wanted to relive
the hunt and see what else I could
learn. As I stood there that overcast
mid-November morning, staring at
the old buck's final resting place, an
unbelievable rush of emotions suddenly
swept over me. Hundreds of images
and memories of the buck came flooding back. The longer I stood there,
the stronger the emotions grew. It
eventually reached a point where it
became nearly unbearable. And these
emotions were stemming from one
hard-hitting fact that suddenly filled
me entirely - that the old buck now
was gone forever! There would be no
more spring days spent searching for his
cast antlers, no more trail cam photos
of him, and no more seasons hoping for
the chance to meet him. Every time I
had entered his home, my mind would
instantly wonder where he was and
what he was doing at that moment.
Only this time he wouldn't be there
and the realization of him not being
there was stirring up emotions deep
within me.
I had dreamed of meeting this old
buck, was able to live that dream, but
never dreamed of these feelings that
were now stirring within me. I had
read many stories from other hunters
about a certain sadness that can overtake a hunter when he or she meets a
buck that provides them with so many
memories. I'd chuckle every time a
WWW.PENNGAMENEWS.COM
http://WWW.PENNGAMENEWS.COM
Pennsylvania Game News - November 2013

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Pennsylvania Game News - November 2013
