Like Paul Harvey Says, “and now the rest of the story.”

By Dave Wamer

11 hours is a long time to spend sitting in a treestand.

My body felt the ache of the previous days hunt in which I spent the day in a stand. However, I was back on stand and willing to put in another 11-12 hour day. I heard steps in the leaves off to my right and looked up slowly in that direction. I saw legs of a deer and then a head…

This hunt was taking place at Croft State Park in SC on a bow only draw hunt where there are some monster deer. We had been to this area several weeks before to walk around and do some scouting. That scouting trip started as an adventure itself as we ran into Mr. “No Shoulders” Copperhead as we were getting out of the truck. Lankyman, Rustyfan, SBEhunter and myself covered a lot of ground that day searching for a spot to stick a big one. Not one spot really stuck out until near the end of our trip. The thunderstorms rolled in as we headed up from a creek bottom back towards the trucks.

We followed a ridge line that looked promising and came to the top where a small saddle 30-50 yards long connected to the adjacent ridge before dropping off the other side into a ravine. The saddle and ridge tops were mixed with white oaks and pines with a thick growth of understory that would allow deer to feel secure while moving from ridge to ridge. It looked difficult to bow hunt, with few shooting lanes from only a couple of trees big enough to climb. The place just felt like deer. There was food from the oaks and muscadines, easy access to water, thick cover for secure travel and it was no easy task for anyone to stumble on from the road. I liked it and planned on being back with bow in hand.

The first day was uneventful, long and hot with little activity. Since my scouting trip a few weeks earlier, a buck had visited a holly type tree 20 yards in front of me and left a small scrape as his calling card. The oaks were dropping acorns as squirrels danced from limb to limb driving me nuts all day long. The wind was right and blowing west to east across my front. I was just short of the top of the saddle facing south towards a large creek. I could not see the creek, which was 150-200 yards away due to thick growth. However, I had a good 75-100 yard view of the two ridges coming from the creek bottom that were joined in front of me by this narrow land bridge. I passed the time with some cheese crackers and a few chapters of a book. Finally, I saw movement and saw a deer approaching. I glanced at my watch and thought that it was odd for them to be moving at 3:30 in the afternoon as warm as it was. I was ready for the showdown regardless of the time and slowly reached for my bow. I could not tell if the deer had antlers yet and I slowly stood up as the deer walked behind a large tree. The deer began to turn from me and walked over the ridge. Quickly, I rolled the can over to try and bleat and attract the attention of the quickly leaving deer. She stopped, poked her head up, and looked straight in my direction. After a short search, she could not see the deer that was making the noise and resumed her march across the ridge. I tried the bleat again. This time her reaction was one of nervousness and the bleat caused her to trot off without looking back. It was early, and now I had some newfound anticipation, there were deer using this area. Much to my disappointment, I did not see another deer that evening. A smile did cap off the day as several turkeys flew up to roost along the ridge to my right and I thought of the days end bringing me one day closer to turkey season.

In the stand at 0515, the second day began as most with a lively transition from dark to light as the creatures of the woods awoke to meet the new day. Wish I could say the same for me. The second straight day of waking at 0330 was getting to me. I could barely keep my eyes open in the comfort of my stand. I fought off the sleep and managed to stay alert ready for a deer at any minute. They would not come, no signs of deer moving at first light, nor as the sun crested the tree tops. Hmm, I was looking at another long, long day in the tree. It was the last day of the hunt and I was not coming down from the tree until oh, dark thirty that night. Just after 8 O’clock I caught movement to my left and saw a deer coming over the ridge on the same trail as the deer from the previous night. I glimpsed antlers and thought it to be a 4 or 5 point. I gently raised into position and prepared for the shot. The deer turned down towards the creek bottom and headed away from me, not responding to bleat or grunts. I settled back in and patiently waited.

This deer had antlers! The deer was moving towards me acting like a vacuum cleaner while he scooped up acorns as he eased down the trail. I glanced at my watch and it was 1138. I wondered if this was the same buck I had seen earlier this morning. I grabbed my bow from the hanger and turned to position for the shot. The buck was coming down towards the saddle with the wind at his tail. I only had a few shooting lanes, but he was going to maintain a course that took him down a trail from my right to left and broadside at 20-25 yards. I watched him pass by the first lane, still not quite broadside and not the shot I wanted. He paused next to the scrape and raised his nose as to check and see who was visiting and then continued to slowly on his path. I came to draw as he passed behind a clump of brush and a small tree. I was in his backyard and the buck never knew it. Just as I quickly thought of my anchor point and did the quick mental check, the buck stepped into the shooting lane. It was almost a grunt and shot at the same time. The buck was just starting to quarter away as the broadhead hit the pump with the crack and slap as the arrow met its target. The deer kicked wildly like a donkey, my first thought was it was a heart shot and he wouldn’t make it far. The buck dropped his rear like a dog scratching his butt on the ground and then staggered as he tried to run up the ridge. No luck! He was loosing senses quickly and was stumbling down the side of the ridge with each step he took during the death run. I lost sight of him in a pine tree blow down 75-100 yards away as I heard him crash. Quickly, I scanned the ground for my arrow as I realized my heart was beating so fast I could see my glasses rise up and down with my pulse beat. The arrow was laying just where I had shot him, I glassed the area with binos and saw good blood on the arrow and the ground around it.

I packed up my things and decided to climb down and take my stuff halfway back to the truck before searching for the deer. No sense in rushing things. I had the rest of the day to find him and haul him out. Heck, there were several hills to cross and it was time to go find some dragging help anyway. I climbed down, checked the arrow and the sign, and felt good about the shot. There was bubbly, lung shot looking blood all over the arrow. I headed towards the truck realizing that my radio was in it. At the top of the next hill I hooted to rustyfan who had been hunting 150-200 yards from me. He hooted back and I eased over to tell him the news and get his help. Roughly 45 minutes later we were back at the base of my tree and ready to find the deer. The trail was easy to follow, blood heavy in most places and we never had to stop and really look for it. As we eased down the hill, Paul said “is that him”, but I could not tell from my vantage point. “Yeah, its him, there he is” Paul said as he walked up on the deer that had collapsed in the blow down pine that I had seen from the treestand. He was down and we took a minute to give thanks, look over the deer, share a smoke, and think about the long drag we had ahead of us with this deer.

The hunt ended with great results. Not only because I shot a deer, but because of the people I was with. I spent time in camp with a fella that is like another father to me, Treeclimber. I shared the struggle of dragging a deer from the woods in unbearable heat and miserable flies with a buddy that is always there for me, Rustyfan. And, I shared camp, scouting, stories, and another day hunting with my best friend, Lankyman.

Life is great, thanks for letting me share my story.

Dave Wamer
Copyright September 2003
All rights reserved