THE HUNT

                          THE HUNT

     That morning, the other guys were discouraged and were not up to going out. We had been hunting for 5 days without having any success, although we did have some shots.  It's not easy to make a good shot with a Bow and Arrow. After all, at this time the success ratio is only about 11 percent. But this being my first real Deer hunt and the fact that I'm a very stubborn man and not one to give up easily, so I was getting dressed at 5:00 AM in the dark. I announced that I would be going out this morning, which was to be our last day for we all had to go back to work on the following day.

     Behind the camp at Franks Canyon in Kibab National Forest in northern Arizona, are these steep hills with flat tops. In fact the whole area was like a large meadow with several plateau-like hills that stuck out into the canyon in the shape of fingers. The fingers were topped with stands of Pine and Quaking aspen trees.

     I climbed up the steep hill holding onto brush and rocks. Near the top of the steep hill I peered up into the gloom of the forest on the plateau, for at 5:00 its quite dim. Upon reaching the top I stepped in under the trees and onto the service road that invariably exists on all the plateaus. I paused to rest and because I wanted to easily find the camp again, I tied a white handkerchief onto a branch alongside the road. Looking down I could see the breakfast fire in camp and the other men milling around, talking no doubt about the misses and the deer they had seen in past hunts. The fact was that, in my opinion, the others were not really very good hunters. For one thing they didn't tune their Bows up with broad heads, or shoot at unknown ranges. All they seemed to talk about was all the MISSES they had made. I wanted to be able to talk about the HITS I made.

     After resting for a few minutes I thought about what direction to go. Looking to the right down the road I thought; "This road leads to the end of this 'finger' and down, that way will lead out of the forested area." Looking across the road I thought; "No that way leads though the forest for a few hundred feet and then down another hill, Just like the one I came up." So the only logical direction to go is to the left at least for a while until I came to the 'hand' part or main section of the forest. So very slowly and quietly, I began to walk along.

     The road was hard and so it was easy to be very quiet as I placed my feet very carefully. I was scanning to my right, watching for any sign of movement. I all but ignored the left side, for although lined with a few trees and brush stepping a few feet off the road would bring you back to the steep bare hill.

     Suddenly; a movement out of the corner of my eye, I froze. The Sun was barely peeping through the trees which afforded a defused light, by which I could make out several deer in among a grove of small Aspen trees, a thicket, as it were. They were feeding on the tufts of grass that was growing in and around, the stand of small trees. About 30 yards away was an animal that had eluded my arrows many times during this hunt, if not this very one, then one of his cousins. At any rate my heart was making so much noise that I was sure they would hear it and like so many times before, be gone in the thrashing, crashing noise of the flight. But No! Lo and behold they didn't even know that I was there. I just stood there watching them, for what seemed like hours, yet in reality was probably just seconds. As I watched I noticed that the one closest to me was a Buck, a small one to be sure, but even though he only had two small horns in the shape of a Y, still for some one who had only been hunting with a Bow for a couple of years, it seemed appropriate. I hesitated to come to a full draw, for I wanted the shot to be perfect and the young buck was completely hidden by the Aspen thicket except for his neck and head. I thought to my self; "Surly he will step out enough to make the classic shot, behind the front shoulder. I just stood there as still as a statue, trembling like the trees around me, except I was trembling not from the gentle breeze but from the excitement of the moment. Slowly he edged out, reaching for a tender morsel of grass...No Darn it! He drew back again. "Wait! Wait! I kept telling myself. Once he all but disappeared, and I could see the other deer in the herd, moving further away. Fear and despair begin to gnaw at me, for this same scene had played itself out before and I had not gotten a shot. "Well, better to lose the shot then make a bad hit", I thought. Slowly the Young Buck again edged out. This time I slowly drew my 65 Lb. Bear Whitetail Hunter Bow. I remember thinking that I could make a neck shot, although this was not the best shot, it would still be a good hit.   He stepped out far enough to see his neck and head. I released and the loud "Twank" sound sent the arrow toward the animal. The Buck heard that "Twank" of the string and involuntarily jerked back. The Arrow continuing along the path that I had sent it, mistook the head for the neck which had been where the head now was. Entering the side of the head just below the eyes and exiting the other side, as you might well imagine, caused the deer to reel around from the impact of the arrow. 

     Now you must remember that, I was a novice hunter, but I had read and studied as much as I could find about what to do when you make a successful "Hit". All the books said first if you made a "good Hit" that you were to just sit and wait until the animal became too weak to run and lay down, then you could track it until you came to it. Or if the "hit" was "bad" then you should push the animal to make it bleed. Making a quick decision, I decided that shooting an animal through the side of the face was definitely a bad "Hit", so the answer to the problem was push the deer.

     Running up to where the arrow lay on the ground, I observed that the Aspen thicket was sprayed with blood and the arrow with feather fleches was coated with blood also.  At first the trail was very plain to follow, drops of blood were prominent. Soon however, the drops began to get farther apart and very soon after that they came to a stop. PANIC! Oh no! I dropped to my hands and knees and begin to crawl in the same direction as the trail had been going. Wait! Here is a drop, then another, the trail begins again so I jump up and begin walking fast and literally running where the trail is clear. Soon I came to a pool of blood, all bubbly? Stopping for a second and scratching my head, I can't figure it out because as I already noted the arrow did not hit him in the lung, which is what this sign would normally indicate. Think, how could this be? It must be that he is breathing hard from running and the blood is being sucked into his lungs because the arrow passed through his breathing passages, and perhaps even hit a main artery in the face.

     Encouraged now, I excitedly hurried along the trail of blood. I next came to a large dead tree that had fallen across the trail, inspecting the blockage; I noticed that where one of the old branches stuck out at an angle, it was smeared with blood as though the deer had struck it with the side of his face as he had attempted to jump the obstacle. Sure enough on the other side you could see where something had rolled the leaves, apparently getting up and continuing to flee. Still I kept doggedly on the trail, not knowing whether I was ever going to see the animal that I had wounded. Soon I noticed that the trail would attempt to climb up the rise that had come on our left, as though he was trying to go over the rise and descend into a canyon on the other side. However, either from exhaustion or some other instinct, which I will never know, he kept coming back to the flat area that was the Mesa we traveled on. After what was perhaps 3 or 4 of these attempts, I broke into a small clearing at the saddle of the rise.

     Standing not 30 yards from me was my Buck. His head hung down between his front legs, blood running from his mouth and nostrils. Why he had not taken the clear escape down the mountain behind him and perhaps to what may well have been freedom, though more than likely certain death from starvation owing to the nature of his wound, I don't know. Perhaps he had become too tired to run anymore or perhaps he had given up.

     By this time I was completely our of breath and was breathing in great gulps of air and my heart was pounding as though it would burst forth from my own chest. As I drew my Bow, I could not get the sight to steady on the deer. Taking a deep breath and holding it, I finely managed to send an arrow flying toward the deer. Because of not being too steady The arrow hit him high on the back and careened off to be forever lost in the canyon behind him. The Buck staggered this time, but a few yards and piled up in some brush.

     As I walked up to him, he looked up at me and all I could see was the pain in his eyes. I knew that I must use one more arrow for I must end the pain. Knocking another arrow I released at point blank range. Through the heart it sped. The light slowly went out of those eyes and as I watched it happen, tears streamed down my face. You see I had never been the one to take a life before, where I could see its leaving. I knew that it was not wrong to take the life of an animal for food. Yet I learned at that moment, how precious it really was and I knew that even though I would again kill an animal for food, it would not be done without understanding what it meant to do so, for you cannot kill with out a little bit of you dying also.