I've got the new hunting rifle, and I've practiced for weeks with it in anticipation of opening deer season. I found an accurate round (165 grn. Federal Premium Vital-Shok btsp) that the rifle loves. Shot over 150 rounds to become familiar with the rifle. I was certain that I was ready for hunting season!!!
I have antlerless tags, so I'm hunting for does. The Season started last Weekend; last Saturday, I saw two bucks, but no does. I saw one of the bucks while I was stalking in the timber; he walked within 15 yards of me and never knew I was there.
For some reason, we are seeing far fewer deer than we normally see. Of course, the other hunters in my group (who want bucks) managed to see does. I talked to several other people this week who saw does. I developed a major 'doe craving', so yesterday, I decided to sneak out of work early for an afternoon hunt.
I set up in a stand overlooking a very long (300+ yards) stretch of timber which was bordered by a large cornfield. The turkeys were out -- I had a flock of about 30 walk right underneath the stand.
As dusk approached, I saw something moving from the edge of the timber and walking onto the cornfield, about 80 yards away. It was a doe! I instantly became very excited. I grabbed the rifle and started thinking about how I finally had the opportunity to break-in the new rifle after all of that practice -- finally a chance to take a doe. As I leveled the rifle on the edge of the stand, I began breathing pretty hard, and I found the doe in the scope. The doe was walking along the edge of the cornfield, about 10 feet away from the timberline. It was walking toward my stand and presented a straight-on shot. Then the doe stopped, looked my way, and began to turn toward the timber. All I could think was that the doe was going to walk back into the timber, where I would never get a shot off....
As the doe turned, I moved the rifle while trying to keep the cross-hairs on her. And for some reason (FEVER), I jerked the trigger without picking a spot-certain on the doe. It was a clean miss. The doe bounded into the timber.
A few seconds later, I saw something else moving farther up at the edge of the timber, about 250 yards away. A group of three does were walking out onto the cornfield! They continued walking away from the timber, and farther away from the stand. I got excited all over again. I grabbed the rifle, cranked up the scope, and waited for the largest doe to stop walking. By now, they were 260 yards away, far beyond my usual practice range. But the fever was still there. They stopped for a moment, and I raised the cross-hairs just over the back of the doe. Boom! Clean miss. The does just stood there, looking in my direction; they were so far away that they couldn't nail down my position. Boom! Another clean miss.
Then, something (finally) clicked. I put the rifle down. I didn't even reload it. What the heck am I doing? I'm taking stupid shots that I would normally never take; wasting ammo; and making a fool out of myself. This is not the way I was taught to hunt. Thank goodness I was missing clean; I reminded myself that there is nothing worse than a wounded deer. So I leaned back on the bench inside the Stand and decided that I would just watch the does. If they ran off, so be it.
The does continued to walk away from the timber and farther away from the stand. But before they were completely out of sight, something interesting happened: the does stopped walking, and appeared to be looking at something while sniffing the air. Then they turned around, and began walking back toward the timber and, more importantly, toward my stand!
This time I didn't instantly grab the rifle and take aim. I watched them as they walked toward my stand. When they were 200 yards away, I slowly picked up the rifle and carefully reloaded it. At 150 yards, I slowly eased the rifle up and took careful aim. I continued to watch the does through the scope as they continued to walk toward me. When the largest doe turned broadside at 125 yards, I took a deep breath, carefully aimed right behind her shoulder, and squeezed the trigger. Boom! The doe instantly dropped. Instead of bounding away, the other two does stood there and looked in my direction. I carefully worked the bolt, and carefully took aim at the second doe. I forced myself to slowly pull the trigger. Boom! The second doe lurched forward about 10 yards, and then dropped.
Each doe was shot behind the shoulder and cleanly through both lungs. The Vital-Shok performed well; the exit wounds were significantly larger than the entry wounds; on the larger doe, the exit wound consisted of three broken ribs. The rifle performed well. And, finally, the shooter used his noggin instead of reacting with pure emotion.
I am very fortunate I didn't wound a doe with those foolish shots. I know better, but the doe fever hit me hard yesterday. I should have slowed down in the first place and thought things through. Lesson learned: patience is a virtue, especially while hunting.
I have antlerless tags, so I'm hunting for does. The Season started last Weekend; last Saturday, I saw two bucks, but no does. I saw one of the bucks while I was stalking in the timber; he walked within 15 yards of me and never knew I was there.
For some reason, we are seeing far fewer deer than we normally see. Of course, the other hunters in my group (who want bucks) managed to see does. I talked to several other people this week who saw does. I developed a major 'doe craving', so yesterday, I decided to sneak out of work early for an afternoon hunt.
I set up in a stand overlooking a very long (300+ yards) stretch of timber which was bordered by a large cornfield. The turkeys were out -- I had a flock of about 30 walk right underneath the stand.
As dusk approached, I saw something moving from the edge of the timber and walking onto the cornfield, about 80 yards away. It was a doe! I instantly became very excited. I grabbed the rifle and started thinking about how I finally had the opportunity to break-in the new rifle after all of that practice -- finally a chance to take a doe. As I leveled the rifle on the edge of the stand, I began breathing pretty hard, and I found the doe in the scope. The doe was walking along the edge of the cornfield, about 10 feet away from the timberline. It was walking toward my stand and presented a straight-on shot. Then the doe stopped, looked my way, and began to turn toward the timber. All I could think was that the doe was going to walk back into the timber, where I would never get a shot off....
As the doe turned, I moved the rifle while trying to keep the cross-hairs on her. And for some reason (FEVER), I jerked the trigger without picking a spot-certain on the doe. It was a clean miss. The doe bounded into the timber.
A few seconds later, I saw something else moving farther up at the edge of the timber, about 250 yards away. A group of three does were walking out onto the cornfield! They continued walking away from the timber, and farther away from the stand. I got excited all over again. I grabbed the rifle, cranked up the scope, and waited for the largest doe to stop walking. By now, they were 260 yards away, far beyond my usual practice range. But the fever was still there. They stopped for a moment, and I raised the cross-hairs just over the back of the doe. Boom! Clean miss. The does just stood there, looking in my direction; they were so far away that they couldn't nail down my position. Boom! Another clean miss.
Then, something (finally) clicked. I put the rifle down. I didn't even reload it. What the heck am I doing? I'm taking stupid shots that I would normally never take; wasting ammo; and making a fool out of myself. This is not the way I was taught to hunt. Thank goodness I was missing clean; I reminded myself that there is nothing worse than a wounded deer. So I leaned back on the bench inside the Stand and decided that I would just watch the does. If they ran off, so be it.
The does continued to walk away from the timber and farther away from the stand. But before they were completely out of sight, something interesting happened: the does stopped walking, and appeared to be looking at something while sniffing the air. Then they turned around, and began walking back toward the timber and, more importantly, toward my stand!
This time I didn't instantly grab the rifle and take aim. I watched them as they walked toward my stand. When they were 200 yards away, I slowly picked up the rifle and carefully reloaded it. At 150 yards, I slowly eased the rifle up and took careful aim. I continued to watch the does through the scope as they continued to walk toward me. When the largest doe turned broadside at 125 yards, I took a deep breath, carefully aimed right behind her shoulder, and squeezed the trigger. Boom! The doe instantly dropped. Instead of bounding away, the other two does stood there and looked in my direction. I carefully worked the bolt, and carefully took aim at the second doe. I forced myself to slowly pull the trigger. Boom! The second doe lurched forward about 10 yards, and then dropped.
Each doe was shot behind the shoulder and cleanly through both lungs. The Vital-Shok performed well; the exit wounds were significantly larger than the entry wounds; on the larger doe, the exit wound consisted of three broken ribs. The rifle performed well. And, finally, the shooter used his noggin instead of reacting with pure emotion.
I am very fortunate I didn't wound a doe with those foolish shots. I know better, but the doe fever hit me hard yesterday. I should have slowed down in the first place and thought things through. Lesson learned: patience is a virtue, especially while hunting.