My longest recovery was just last saturday. Saw a good sized 6 point coming out of a brush filled ravine on the other side of a creek maybe 75 yards out. Had been there all day without seeing anything and he was looking pretty good. Waited till he hit a clearing and took the shot. When the dust settled, he was gone and in what direction i didn't see.
I hit everyone on the radios that i needed to cross the creek to search for a trail or the deer before dark and got the ok to go over. I marked the spot i had shot at as best i could and began trying to find a spot to cross the "river". Seems every open spot had 3 feet of water at the bottom. Finally found a shallow area downstream and and made it over dry.
Found a briar hell that was literally impenatrable. Couldn't go around without a huge loss in time and it was getting dark... I crawled. Not sure how far but probably only 50 yards or so before things opened up enough to stand again. Finally found the tree i had marked from over the creek and started searching for signs of a hit.
Took a couple minutes but i found a tiny bit of belly hair...some gut material...a hit...omg don't let it be a gutshot...i knew my gun was on and i was so sure...forlorn i started tracking stomach material on my hands and knees in the darkening evening. My little AA flashlight was throwing a yellow cast that made it impossible to see well. No blood after 10 feet...Depression set in. I knew i needed help. I hung my orange hat on a tree to mark and crawled my way back out of hell.
Went to the barn where my cousins and their alcoholic buddies were coming in from an evening hunt. 2 does were being examined in a golf cart bed as beer tabs popped like fireworks. I explained my predicament as they congratulated me on what they felt sure was a good shot.
Said we'd go looking soon but needed to give him plenty of time to lay up and die. Being their farm, i chilled out and had a couple beers as they consumed an easy case. They had the does processed out by then and proclaimed it time to go get my deer. Another case of beer was loaded on one of the 4 wheelers and many bloodlight and spotlights were produced and put into bags on the machines. To my horror, cousin "scott" who had drank an easy 12 pack, pulled out a 12ga. pump and slid it into a scabbard. Cousins friend "terry", Must have seen my look because he laughed and said "doan worry man...thisis what we do!!" I worried.
Drove down to the pasture, everyone cut off their machine,its about 9pm, and i show scott the terrible hillside we would have to fight to get access to the hit site. He laughed and everyone popped another beer. We had a trail that he'd cut, he said...to go to the same spot. Indeed he drove to a crossing at the riverbank, rode across, took a right on the first trail and went 100 yards. He stopped his machine and said we'd all go by foot from this point. He started on a footpath that lead right to the terrible briar thicket i'd fought hours earlier and skirted through it. Another 40 yards and he laughed and said "this is too easy". My big buck had become a little 5 pointer but had only made it 50 yards from my orange hat i could see further down the trail. The deer had taken the .308 corelokt in the chest and the bullet skewered lenghwise before blowing out the stomach and going into the leg. He was probably dead before i got across the water the first time but it took 4 hours and tons of apprehension before i got this one. I'll always carry a better light from now on...J.R.