A short story of a wonderful old Buck i used to know
Apr 21, 2020 16:46:38 GMT -5
elkguide, ncountry, and 1 more like this
Post by dreamrider on Apr 21, 2020 16:46:38 GMT -5
Mr Big.
He was the dominant Fallow buck, and judging by the number of doe’s he was holding in his harem, he knew it. Lesser bucks from all around would come in to try their luck. One in particular was almost as big as him and was constantly nipping into the doe’s, only to be sent packing, he just did not have the maturity to roll the big boy…….yet.
I would sit for hours watching him, but he was a crafty beast either hiding up in the thick bush surrounded by his girls, making it impossible for me to get near to him. Or he would be out in the open pasture two hundred yards clear of any cover, once again not giving me a chance with the bow. I even contemplated taking a rifle with me but, no. I wanted to get him with the bow. Weeks went by and still he never gave me a chance. Then nothing….. the rut was over and he had vanished.
Roll on another ten months and he was back, even bigger than last year. But so was his opposition, in fact I was lucky enough to be there when they had their reckoning. This is going to be a close one, I thought as I watched through the binos. But once again experience won the day after a mighty tussle the youngster gave ground, and for another season the old boy was herd master.
A week later my chance finally came. I was sitting on a knoll watching when he suddenly headed for the bush. Probably to have a wallow to cool off and I felt reasonably confident which trail he was going to take, and I was off like a scolded cat, heading to where I thought I could intercept him. I was almost too late; he was already passing as I burst out into the clearing. I don’t know who got the biggest surprise. He stopped in his tracks and for a couple of seconds he just froze, big mistake, the bow was up and the arrow was gone in the blink of an eye. The shot looked good but as soon as the arrow hit him, I knew I had hurried the shot and had hit to far forward in his shoulder blade with little penetration. He scorched the grass with his speed as he took off. My heart sank but even as I was analysing the sequence of events, I was racing up a small prominent hill that had a good 180-degree vision out over the clear grass lands. I knew he would either hole up in the bush-clad valley he frequented behind me, or head off across the open pastures ultimately heading for the forestry a mile away.
I huffed my way up the hill hoping upon hope that he would lay up in the bush, making it easier for me to find him later. I arrived at the top of the hill just in time to see him gingerly making his way out of the grass area; $$$$ he was heading towards the forest. Gasping for air I focused the bino,s on him, he was already 3-400 yards away but the arrow could clearly be seen sticking out of his shoulder and a lot of blood was running down his front leg. I felt that the only thing I could do was stay put and see which line of escape he would take. A thousand yards away I saw him duck under a fence and disappear.
With shaking hands, I sat down and had a drink of water, my mind was in turmoil what to do. I knew I had to go after him, but when, how long to wait. Plus, I had a problem; I did not have permission to enter the forest. I sat on that hill for nearly an hour agonizing over what to do, and then I spotted movement in the area he had disappeared. It was him coming back. I could not believe it, as I watched; he would take a few steps then stop, take a few more then stop again as he made his way back towards his herd of girls. Then it hit me, that poor, magnificent, love struck beast was following his most primeval urge to be with his harem, no matter what the cost.
I have to say to you readers that I unashamedly cried watching that once proud buck staggering back up towards his rutting pad. I had done this; I had caused this most wonderful of all bucks to come down to this state. Worst still there was absolutely no way I could get near enough to him for another shot. As he approached his pad the does hesitantly came to greet him but shied away at the smell of blood. Unfortunately, the smell of blood also bought Number two out of the bush to investigate. In an instant the young buck realised that mister big was in serious trouble and with out hesitation charged in. Mr big bravely tried to stand his ground but was way to weak from the loss of blood, and was unceremoniously rolled over onto his back, then with blinding speed the youngster thrust one of his brow tines into his rib cage. Mister big desperately managed to get to his feet and ran to get away from him. He managed to run 100 yards and collapsed only 30 yards away from me. Not satisfied the youngster was coming in for another go at him. With out thinking of the possible consequences I leapt to my feet and hurled myself down the hill screaming at the youngster to leave the poor old bugger alone. The blood lust was up in the youngster and it wasn’t until I was only ten yards away from him before he realized that had better get out of there.
Shaking like a leaf and with tears in my eyes, I placed an arrow on the string and started to walk up to mister big. That grand old buck just managed to lift his head off the ground, looked at me then gave a shudder and died.
I spent a long time talking to him, telling him that I was sorry, and that if I could have taken that hasty shot back, I would have. He didn’t deserve to have his life end like that
I have to admit that I almost gave up hunting after that experience. But after six months I knew I was born to hunt. As the years have rolled on, I have come to realise that nothing in this world is perfect and the more we hunt the greater the chances of this sort of thing happening. All we can do is learn from it and move on. I have.
Written by Dream Rider.
He was the dominant Fallow buck, and judging by the number of doe’s he was holding in his harem, he knew it. Lesser bucks from all around would come in to try their luck. One in particular was almost as big as him and was constantly nipping into the doe’s, only to be sent packing, he just did not have the maturity to roll the big boy…….yet.
I would sit for hours watching him, but he was a crafty beast either hiding up in the thick bush surrounded by his girls, making it impossible for me to get near to him. Or he would be out in the open pasture two hundred yards clear of any cover, once again not giving me a chance with the bow. I even contemplated taking a rifle with me but, no. I wanted to get him with the bow. Weeks went by and still he never gave me a chance. Then nothing….. the rut was over and he had vanished.
Roll on another ten months and he was back, even bigger than last year. But so was his opposition, in fact I was lucky enough to be there when they had their reckoning. This is going to be a close one, I thought as I watched through the binos. But once again experience won the day after a mighty tussle the youngster gave ground, and for another season the old boy was herd master.
A week later my chance finally came. I was sitting on a knoll watching when he suddenly headed for the bush. Probably to have a wallow to cool off and I felt reasonably confident which trail he was going to take, and I was off like a scolded cat, heading to where I thought I could intercept him. I was almost too late; he was already passing as I burst out into the clearing. I don’t know who got the biggest surprise. He stopped in his tracks and for a couple of seconds he just froze, big mistake, the bow was up and the arrow was gone in the blink of an eye. The shot looked good but as soon as the arrow hit him, I knew I had hurried the shot and had hit to far forward in his shoulder blade with little penetration. He scorched the grass with his speed as he took off. My heart sank but even as I was analysing the sequence of events, I was racing up a small prominent hill that had a good 180-degree vision out over the clear grass lands. I knew he would either hole up in the bush-clad valley he frequented behind me, or head off across the open pastures ultimately heading for the forestry a mile away.
I huffed my way up the hill hoping upon hope that he would lay up in the bush, making it easier for me to find him later. I arrived at the top of the hill just in time to see him gingerly making his way out of the grass area; $$$$ he was heading towards the forest. Gasping for air I focused the bino,s on him, he was already 3-400 yards away but the arrow could clearly be seen sticking out of his shoulder and a lot of blood was running down his front leg. I felt that the only thing I could do was stay put and see which line of escape he would take. A thousand yards away I saw him duck under a fence and disappear.
With shaking hands, I sat down and had a drink of water, my mind was in turmoil what to do. I knew I had to go after him, but when, how long to wait. Plus, I had a problem; I did not have permission to enter the forest. I sat on that hill for nearly an hour agonizing over what to do, and then I spotted movement in the area he had disappeared. It was him coming back. I could not believe it, as I watched; he would take a few steps then stop, take a few more then stop again as he made his way back towards his herd of girls. Then it hit me, that poor, magnificent, love struck beast was following his most primeval urge to be with his harem, no matter what the cost.
I have to say to you readers that I unashamedly cried watching that once proud buck staggering back up towards his rutting pad. I had done this; I had caused this most wonderful of all bucks to come down to this state. Worst still there was absolutely no way I could get near enough to him for another shot. As he approached his pad the does hesitantly came to greet him but shied away at the smell of blood. Unfortunately, the smell of blood also bought Number two out of the bush to investigate. In an instant the young buck realised that mister big was in serious trouble and with out hesitation charged in. Mr big bravely tried to stand his ground but was way to weak from the loss of blood, and was unceremoniously rolled over onto his back, then with blinding speed the youngster thrust one of his brow tines into his rib cage. Mister big desperately managed to get to his feet and ran to get away from him. He managed to run 100 yards and collapsed only 30 yards away from me. Not satisfied the youngster was coming in for another go at him. With out thinking of the possible consequences I leapt to my feet and hurled myself down the hill screaming at the youngster to leave the poor old bugger alone. The blood lust was up in the youngster and it wasn’t until I was only ten yards away from him before he realized that had better get out of there.
Shaking like a leaf and with tears in my eyes, I placed an arrow on the string and started to walk up to mister big. That grand old buck just managed to lift his head off the ground, looked at me then gave a shudder and died.
I spent a long time talking to him, telling him that I was sorry, and that if I could have taken that hasty shot back, I would have. He didn’t deserve to have his life end like that
I have to admit that I almost gave up hunting after that experience. But after six months I knew I was born to hunt. As the years have rolled on, I have come to realise that nothing in this world is perfect and the more we hunt the greater the chances of this sort of thing happening. All we can do is learn from it and move on. I have.
Written by Dream Rider.
