Captain Hook

New place, new deer, new adventures, new successes & recognizable heartbreak. Captain Hook was a deer with a unique rack. Most would scoff at his antlers but he became one of our only hit list bucks on the new lease because he was an older deer & it was clear his rack wasn't going to change.

He was scarred up, his ears were cut & it appeared he was a fighter. We watched him in velvet at the water tank; his unmistakable right hook curling out of his brow tine were clear in all the trail cam pictures. We watched him at the protein feeders during the heat of the summer & decided he was a 'target buck'.

Opening weekend of bow season presented my husband with a few opportunities but it never came to fruition. We hunted him for over a month watching as he moved from spot to spot without much pattern to his actions.

The morning of Thursday November 10th he came into my set. I was nervous, shaking, breathing heavy, but I had time; he was calm. It wasn't quiet shooting light yet so the dance began. As the sunlight increased, his presence calmed me (well enough to focus) and I waited. Waited for the perfect shot that every bowhunter waits for. Hook was unaware of my presence & I drew on him twice.

But he danced & eliminated that little window of hope so I let down. A doe & button buck joined the dance calming him & elevating my nerves. 2 more sets of eyes to see me & ruin my shot. After 20 minutes of this, Hook finally took a step of his last dance & I released an arrow right into him.

It felt like a heart shot. It looked like a heart shot. He kicked like a heart shot. His legs buckled like a heart shot as he stumbled through cactus. The camera footage confirmed what I felt & although my arrow stuck in him I was confident I had done enough. I was shaking, uncontrollably shaking & breathing as if I had been holding my breath for minutes (I might have been the last few seconds).

I texted my husband & sent him the video. His response: 'heart shot, dead in 30 yards' along with words of congratulations. We waited over 30 minutes before we met to follow the blood trail. He couldn't be far so we started to film the tracking.

We found blood immediately on the cactus he barreled through & began following a bright red blood trail. That trail continued for 2.5 hours. We walked, we tracked, we pushed thru brush never losing blood for more than a few yards. His tracks were heavy in the mud. The arrow had punctured both sides & blood was heavy on either side of the track. After an hour the sickening feeling in my stomach started growing.

How is he not dead? What did I do wrong? Where is my arrow? How has it not come out? Maybe just around this turn or through this brush he will be laying there right? These are the questions I'll never have the answer to because after 2.5 hours the blood stopped & my tears started.

I tried to stifle them & be strong but now we had to make the heart wrenching decision to start walking back. I just stood there hoping for a miracle; maybe I would find more blood or him & I would get that overly elated feeling I wanted to feel so bad. It had been 2 years since I released an arrow on a whitetail & now I was hanging on a cliff emotionally.

We turned to leave & I fell off that cliff. Tears pouring as I walked blinded by the pain. My husband stopped & turned & embraced me & I just cried. The tears are here now as I write this less than 24 hours after it happened, in the same spot I shot him from. It was a purposeful torture to go back but it was the best place to write. It's fresh, it's raw, it hurts, its sickening. We made it back with confusion, disappointment & heartbreak weighing heavily on my exhausted body.

After breakfast (or almost lunch) we reviewed the footage again on a bigger screen. The shot still looked good & my confusion was still high. I have made many bad shots; as a bowhunter you will mess up, make bad shots, and fail miserably; it's just part of it. When I make those bad shots I know it, I acknowledge it, I learn from it & I fix it the best I can; but this has made my mind mush & it hurts.

After all is said & done the only conclusion I have deduced is my shot was too low. The downward trajectory forced it out the brisket & somehow I missed the pump station on the entrance. He didn't jump the string, he didn't' hunker down like 90% of all deer I've hunted do & maybe that was the missing puzzle piece all along. All the signs were there; the reaction of the deer, the blood trail. I'll never know if that's the answer but it's the only solace I have to tell myself to render this hole in my heart.

It's never been about buck or antler size & it never will. The feeling remains the same for any animal not recovered. I am physically & emotionally sick writing this & it truly breaks my heart. I can only pray that I missed vitals & he will somehow continue to be the fighter he was & survive this & I know I will have to do the same.

I've said it before numerous times & in a previous blog, this, all of this...it heals & it haunts & this one will haunt me for quite a while as I replay it over & over in my head.

UPDATE: I shot the buck on Thursday morning at 7:52 am...we hunted until Sunday morning & never saw buzzards anywherE.


UPDATE: On November 18th I went to hunt hogs & about 7pm (after dark) Captain Hook showed up at the feeder!!!! I could see his unique rack under the red hog motion light & stared in disbelief! He had a slight limp in his right side (arrow exit side) but was eating & seemed fine!