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!

Heals and Haunts

I mentioned in my previous blog “Baby Brows ‘Bout Time Buck” (http://camocandace.blogspot.com/2014/10/baby-brows-bout-time-buck.html) that I was working on a more ‘poetic’ version of the extreme emotional response to taking this buck…but to understand the highs, the lows must also be felt. In honor of the pure unfiltered bliss and bluster a hunter’s journey travels through I present this…I hope you can relate. 

  

Hunting; a consuming love triangle between me, my mind and the woods where learning how to fail is a staple of the journey.  It is a sickness that heals and haunts me, that brings me to the peak of my being and plunges to the depths of my soul. 

Before reaching a culmination of supreme perfection I press my face against the foundation of rock bottom where the cold, hard reality of heartbreak in the woods exists. Unfortunately this is not truly failure but a necessary moment each must turn and face at some point; however, in my mind and many like it, these are logged as failures long before a retrospective view is forced that ultimately leads to another scratch on the experience tree. There are moments where the bridge is burned solely to force a turnaround to face what you may have been avoiding or failed to see.

There goes my heart falling, falling, falling to the chasm created inside from a mistake, a misstep, or an uncontrollable moment only Mother Nature could create. When it hits, it hurts. It wrenches inside a pain that burns me, crushes confidence, ignites doubts, and envelops every thought. The world stops as a glimmer of self-pity sneaks in and weakness threatens to haunt me. I stagger and stumble through my mind in a cloud of disbelief, ambiguity, and empathy for any affected by this moment. It is a battle; it is hell on my mind, body and soul. Words cannot rectify it, comfort is out of reach and it is my solo internal struggle. Time, determination, dedication, and the inability to deny the fibers of my being will regenerate me and harmony will be restored; even if only briefly to carry on to witness the perfect moment we all seek. Unfortunately the return to heartbreak is nearly inevitable but it is the challenge, the moments, and the indescribable feelings inside that will always bring me back.

 After pure suffering through the dark moments of defeat, there comes a light that will shine brighter than ever before and blind the doubt that existed in my mind. With success comes renewed ambition, promise and confidence that the path I am on is deserved, honest, and merited. A successful shot is followed by a complete adrenaline release, uncontrollable shaking, tears, and a constant replay of the matter at hand. If the reward does not fall within sight all elation is stifled, just barely, by questionable ambivalence teetering on the brink of insanity followed by prayer. My heart is on the line, living in danger. Yes, no, good, bad, what if, please Lord.

But when that moment of confirmation arrives there is nothing, I mean nothing that can contain the passion, intensity and spirit of seeing the animal down. Typically I freeze in disbelief as my heart leaves my body and soars to the Heavens with gratitude and the tears continue to drain all logic from my mind leaving only emotion. It is raw, pure, unfiltered euphoria; a high like no other. As I move to feel the concrete evidence of my success and sustenance, the smile spread across my face can be seen for miles and is broken up with intervals of laughter as enthusiasm continues to exude from my body; in all forms of tears, laughter, dance, and embrace I am there in that moment and nowhere else. It, all of it, has come together. Perseverance, affliction, endless days and nights, Mother Nature, the intellectual warfare, physical complaints, and barraging battles unique to their own, all have collided in that moment and it cannot and will not be taken away…at least until the next meeting with the foundation of rock bottom starts its vicious cycle again.

It heals and it haunts…