Search the Community

The outside temperature on the rear view mirror read -2 as I traveled south from my home last Sunday to meet up with some friends for a day of archery hunting. All weekend it had been really cold in South East Arizona, which makes for some really good hunting when the sun comes out. Pigs dont have fur, on really cold mornings like this one, it wasn't long before Brian glassed up a herd about a mile away, on a south facing slope, in the sun. After closing the gap we relocated the strung out herd, looped to get the wind in our face and slid in on the final stalk. David can shoot! His sight pins look like a parade at night and he is deadly with every one of them. One pig in the bunch really stood out, bigger by far and a really light tan and now that pig was broadside at 45 yards. I had a group in front of me at 40 yards but I wanted to watch the tan pig get smoked. The look on Davids face was nothing but confidence as he squared himself, slowly drew, and settled in for the shot. The 80# Mathews Monster, Vortex broadhead, dot shot! The pig rolled down the hillside. Brian, standing behind me running a video camera, is an awesome bow shot also. Then there's me, not a great shot and under pressure to boot. My arrow bounced off the rocks over the head of the pig I had selected. I get buck fever, always. I can usually talk myself into some sort of control but maintaining focus through the whole shot, and not floating my pin over the vitals leads to misses and hits around the edges. With a rifle those "edges" are not nearly as critical, but with a bow they can turn into long blood trails and disappointment. In 25 years of bowhunting and much longer with a rifle, I have enjoyed quite a bit of success. My dad has always enjoyed giving me a hard time about hitting them around the "edges". "You always seem to bring one home but you sure like to hit em around the edges don't you boy", been hearing it for years. The liver, spine, neck, hams, all are lethal shots, but that "dot shot" eludes me more often than not. As the sun was setting in the late afternoon we split up a few hundred yards apart and began to still hunt through a vast mesquite thicket. His white face is what caught my eye. Glassing through the openings in the mesquite and tall clumps of Alkali Sacaton grass his face stood out like a beacon. I would catch a piece of him and the does that were with him now and then as they angled towards me through the brush and I dropped my pack and nocked an arrow. Buck fever, a bucks head bobbing and weaving over the brush, and a rangefinder. Not a good combination. I couldn't get a lock on his head which was all that was visible, a doe had me pinned down and he was about to enter my only shooting lane. I tried to drop my rangefinder but it had magically became entangled in the trigger of my release. Here we go again, talk myself through another one. Seven Deadly Pins, the one I had chosen after estimating the range floated over his chest and the Wise Guy release propelled my string and arrow on its way. The buck kicked like a mule and blood appeared instantly in his ribs, definitely lethal, but around the "edges". The blood trail was immediate but it was getting dark, it was going to get really cold that night and we were afraid to bump him so we left for the evening. Daylight found us on his trail and we recovered him shortly thereafter. We spooked a huge bobcat off of him that had eaten a small chunk off of one hind and then had tried to bury him.