Evolution of a Bow Hunter: Part 4.

The year of disappointment would be the title of 2009.  But I guess there was some good that came out of it when I look back.  It started in the spring when I was looking for new arrows for my crossbow.  Evidently Barnett and other manufacturers decided not to make 16 inch arrows anymore. My Barnett crossbow only shoots 16 inch.  I had about six left from last year but after a summer of shooting 3-D targets down at the tree farm you eventually lose some.  Especially when shooting at the antelope that was at 55 yards. 

 

Shooting 3-D targets at the tree farm.

After searching the internets for people who make custom crossbow bolts/arrows, I finally found a guy in West Virginia who makes stuff for my things.  His web site looked pretty legit and was reasonably priced.  The only problem was that he is used to making 20 inch instead of 16 inch.  It is more complicated than just cutting 4 inches off.  I found out you need to check the balance of the arrow.  It is literally rocket science, not kidding.  So he had me send him an arrow that I liked and he would match it.  I believe it only took a couple of weeks and they were in the mail.  They were the best arrows I've ever shot.

               

The arrows came the Thursday before bow season started.  Not much time to practice and get used to them, but I managed to shoot them so I was comfortable out to 40 yards.

The first Saturday of the season that year my friend Lucas shot a 4x4 in velvet down in the Kathryn Valley. Lucas had been seeing a lot of big deer down there on his trail camera.  And I mean a lot, there was a couple of 5 x 5's and numerous 4x4's.  So we decided I should try it out.  After I obtained permission to hunt down there we decided to check it out and see how bad it would be for me to get down there.  It is right along the Spring Creek that comes from Clausen Springs and runs into the Sheyenne River.  Of course the spot we wanted to hunt was not close to the road.  It was probably 200 yards downhill through two rock ravines and a bean field.  Getting down there wasn't bad, it was the getting back up the hill.  Sometimes gravity sucks. The hunt was pretty uneventful.  We only had a couple of basket bucks and some does come by.  But this is when the adventure started.  

It was darker than the ace of spades and of course we did not bring our flashlights.  They were in the shaggin wagon 200 yards away.  About halfway through the bean field my chair started to give out.  I would go for about 10 feet then it was just die.  So he got behind me and pushed.  It doesn't really work very well trying to push something uphill especially when myself and the chair weigh around 400 pounds.  After about a half-hour of this, we decided to drive the van down to us.  The only problem is tractors are about the only things that go down and up this sidehill.  Just like me, the shaggin wagon came down easy but going up was another story.  We eventually did make it as I am here to tell the story, after giving her the onion a couple times going across the rock ravines.  I'm sure the bottom of the van was nice and shiny after that little episode. Geesh. I never hunted there again. In fact, Don B and I baited down there another time and my wheelchair overheated again going up the hill and he had to push. That was the last straw.

A couple years before this one, around my main hunting spot the deer numbers had been down a bit.  But this year they seemed to be on the rebound.  My new trail cam was getting quite a few pictures every day.  Surprisingly also some big ones, at least they were big for me.  Most of the big ones were a half-mile away in another shelterbelt.  A friend of mine had a trail cam in there and he was getting a lot of good bucks coming in.  Eventually he shot a 4 x 5 out of Herman's belt.

I probably sat around 20 times north of the house and saw deer every time.  But nothing to get too excited about early in the season.  For some reason around here they are nocturnal most of the time.  The belt I hunt in is what you call a travel corridor.  This should be good for bowhunting but not so good when they come around in the dark.  Especially the bucks, most of them on the trail camera were coming by around midnight.  I've decided that the only good time to hunt around here is during the rut when the bucks are looking for love in all the wrong places.  They tend to let down their guard when their twigs and berries get the best of them.

Now comes the first disappointing part of my hunting season.  Cody wanted me to hunt on a spot he has been hunting all fall because there were big bucks.  And when he says there are big bucks, you can guarantee that they are big.  He had been getting pictures of three big 4x4's and one monster 5 x 5.  All four of these deer would be a trophy for anyone bowhunting. 

I finally decided to go over there and try it out a couple of days before rifle season.  Looking back on it now I should've been there all season long.  The only problem is getting in and out of the spot, which is about 10 miles away from the house.  I believe I was there on the Tuesday night for the first time, just three days before rifle season.  Cody helped set me up that first night in a little tree grove above the Maple River and right beside a soybean field and corn field. Just like clockwork the bucks started coming out about a half hour before sunset.  For some reason the bucks were still in their bachelor group. Usually this close to rut they are on their own by now. The three 4x4's came out in front me around 100 yards and started making their way towards me.  When they were in shooting range I noticed Mr. Big bringing up the rear.  He was big, probably the biggest I have ever seen while hunting.  The only problem was that now I had eight eyes looking around and it was only a matter of time before one of them got spooked.  After about 15 minutes one of the 4x4's noticed that I shouldn't be there and started to stomp and snort, which is never good.  Then in a blink of an eye all I could see was white flags running away.  But at least I knew they were there and decided to go back the next day.

The next day I got there a little earlier just to make sure I didn't spook anything out on the way in.  This night there were some does that came by early and got chased away by some turks.  Then I saw the turkeys go up to roost, which is one of the loudest things you can hear in the woods.  They are not the most graceful flyers.  After all of the commotion I saw the biggest of the 4x4's coming right towards me.  He was only about 20 yards away and didn't notice me so I decided to wait to see if Mr. Big would show.  He never did though and it was starting to get dark.  After a little conversation I had in my head about whether I should shoot him or not I decided I would take the shot.  I based it on rifle season starting in a couple of days and the spot gets hit pretty hard.  The only problem was he was quartering towards me and that is not the shot you want to take but I did anyway.  My arrow went into his front right shoulder and angled back to his left rib cage.  When he turned away and ran I could see my fletching sticking out and it looked like there was about 8 inches of the arrow in him.  I had a gut feeling right away that this wasn't going to turn out good.

After about an hour Cody and his dad Keith came out to help look for the deer with my dad.  They searched for about two hours that night.  There would be a good blood trail for a while and that it would disappear.  Then they would find it again and it would disappear again.  We decided to back out and come back in the morning.  The next morning Keith, Trauty and Tito went back to pick up the blood trail in the daylight.  They tracked for a couple of hours and noticed that he crossed the river.  They drove around to the other side and found the arrow, which had blood about halfway up. They noticed a couple of the blood puddles, hunks of tissue that looked like parts of lung.  There was also bubbles in the blood which is always a good sign, but evidently not this time.  The last speck of blood they found was in the middle of a bean field about a half-mile away from where I shot him.  But we did not give up.  That afternoon Tito went back out with a dog and tried to pick up the scent again, but even this did not work.  There is no worse feeling for a bow hunter then not being able to find your deer that you have shot.  I was sick about it for about, well hell I'm still sick about it.  I even punished myself, I did not go bow hunting for the rest of the season. The buck was found the next spring by Cody and some friends coincidentally just north of The Springs. Evidently he doubled back and died within 100 yards of where I was sitting.

Like I said before this was the year of disappointment and here comes the doozy of them all.  All fall I've been working on a rifle mount that adapts to my chair.  Finally in September we got it dialed in pretty good.  With help from Don B. who made the trigger after collaboration of minds (story of trigger). There was also a lot of trigger time with the old Ruger .22 with Tito, just to help get used to shooting a rifle.  Earlier that summer I bought a Remington Model 7400 .243 Semi-Automatic rifle for deer/coyote/antelope.  It took quite a while to get the hang of shooting a rifle because I hadn't done it for a while.  We also had trouble with the rifle not grouping.  After quite a bit of trial and error we found out it was the rings on the scope.  But we got it dialed in a week into rifle season.  For some reason I was busy the second weekend of rifle season so I only had three days to hunt.  And wouldn't you know it, I only needed one day to screw something up.

 

Shooting the 243 with the new adaptive trigger.

I knew there were bucks around the farm so I decided to hunt right here instead of going anywhere else.  I had my mom set me up the first night.  For where I set up the longest shot should be around 150 yards.  It is in between two shelter belts with a field in between, that year it was soybeans.  I was only sitting for about half an hour when I first saw the does starting to come out of the belt and starting to feed.  I believe there were around 11 of them.  All of a sudden I noticed some commotion in the belt and it had to be a buck.  It was real quiet that night and there was no wind.  Pretty soon I could hear him grunting and rubbing down some trees.  Then he appeared out of the belt with his head held high.  He was a big 5 x 5 with bright white antlers.  I can still see him when I close my eyes.  Anyway I got lined up on him and pulled the trigger and nothing happened.  I was perplexed.  Just the day before I shot around 10 times and the trigger worked every time. 

The buck was chasing some does and getting closer around 120 yards.  This was when he gave me another shot, so I pulled back on the trigger again and nothing happened.  At this time I was starting to get pissed.  I started looking over the rifle and trigger and it seemed like everything was good, but evidently not.  He went back into the belt and I was cussing myself wondering what the heck was going on.  Then he came out and gave me another shot around 100 yards.  I took my time and pulled back on the trigger and nothing happened again.  Don't they say bad things come in threes?  By this time it was getting dark so I decided to go back to the house.  I called up Don B. and he came out to check out the rifle.  He gave it a good cleaning and the only thing we could figure was that the action did not shut all the way for some reason.  I went out the next two days with Ham hoping the buck would come back but he never did.  I only saw one deer the next two days and that was on Sunday about 30 seconds before legal shooting hours were over and of course it was a doe.

I need to backtrack a little.  In the fall of 2009 I went hunting out west for the first time, chasing speed goats a.k.a. antelope a.k.a. pronghorn.  Friends of mine had been putting in for rifle tags in a unit down by New England for the last five or so years.  They had been asking me for a while if I wanted to go out with them, but I wanted to wait until I knew I had my rifle set up working.  It didn't matter though because I did not draw a tag but at least it gave me motivation to get the rifle mount working.  My friends usually make it a bow hunt that turns into a rifle hunt. They usually bow hunt the last two or three days of the bow season and then switch to rifle for that season.

I believe my mom and I got out there the Tuesday before rifle season.  A couple guys got there earlier and did some scouting in the area.  That night we all met up in New England and talked strategy.  During the scouting they found a couple herds that numbered around 30 animals.  When we figured out where they were located, we invited over a couple of the local landowners for supper in the trailer house that my friends had been renting.  The two guys that help us get on land, look forward to the group coming out there every year just for the meals and good times.  I believe we had a paddlefish fry the first night, reuben sandwiches the second night, lasagna the third night and I do not recall the other nights.  Those guys get a kick out of my friends, they can't believe that they actually want to try to shoot an antelope with a bow.  Anyway, during the meal we found out that we could get on the land where the antelope were.  We decided that I would set up in a portable blind in an alfalfa field that still had round bales in the field.

The next afternoon I drove down from Dickinson where I was staying and met the guys at the field.  I believe I was set up by 3 p.m. and decided that I would sit by myself with a decoy placed at about 30 yards away.  It was a pretty nice day to start out.  It was around 50° with a little wind out of the northwest.  After sitting for about a half hour I could see one herd to the southwest.  They were in between me and a big butte in the distance.  They were around 300 yards away.  I could tell they could see the decoy but they had no interest at all.  There was another group to the east, this was a group of just three antelope. Probably all bucks. They were across the road from where I was sitting and seemed to meander around aimlessly.  They never came in either. 

Hunting pronghorn is a total different ballgame compared to what I was used to hunting, whitetail. Especially when there is a lot of moisture around and they don't need to congregate at waterholes. They can go anywhere when it is wet, like it was that year.

The coolest thing that I saw was when the pheasants started flying in to the alfalfa.  There were probably 20 bales in the field and every bale had at least two pheasants on it. I'd never seen that many pheasants in one area in my life.  I could have shot a couple roosters that walked right in front of me.  I tried to put a count on them but I had to give up after losing count four or five times. I look a lot smarter than I really am.

The pop-up blind I was in.

Around 6:30 the weather started to change from sunny to cloudy with a cold rain.  The light breeze turned into a gale force wind and now was coming out of the southwest, directly into my face.  Every once in a while there would be a big gust of wind that would spit dirt in my facial region.  During one of these gusts one side of the pop-up blind caved in.  That was really handy. Good times. So I backed my chair into that corner to help support the wall so the whole thing did not collapse on me.  By then I knew my hunt for the night was pretty much over. The antelope had vanished. I don't remember how long I had to wait for the other guys to come and pick me up, but it was long enough.

I later learned that when the rain started the guys decided to go in for some grub in a warm bar in Bowman I believe. You see, they figured I wouldn't want to quit just because of a little weather. I ain't no quitter. They were right. But warm food and a cocktail sounded good when I got loaded into the shaggin wagon.

 

Dustin, myself, Lucas and Kevin.

I believe that night was the first night of snow in the state.  Just some flurries but just some is too much. After the meal and a couple games of poker I went back to Dickinson, looked at the forecast for the next couple days and it was not good.  I woke up the next morning and the wind was out of the west at 20 mph, gusting over 40.  The big American flag out my window looked like it had been starched.  I decided I wasn't going to hunt that day.  Hopefully the next day would be better.  The other guys didn't do much hunting either that day.  They ended up in Bowman.  And there's only about one thing you can do in Bowman.  The next day was even worse than the day before.  I didn't go out hunting again on the trip.  I had to leave on Thursday and didn't really want to bow hunt during rifle season.  Nobody got one with their bow that week.  But they were five for five in filling their rifle tags. 

All in all it was a great trip and I hope to get back there again with a rifle tag. I for sure got the itch to hunt the wide open spaces of western North Dakota during that hunt. Pronghorn are just neat critters and their meat is some of the best table fare there is. It doesn't suck. Please do yourself a favor, take care of the meat immediately and cook it medium rare.

That brings me to the 2010 spring turkey season.  Don B. and I both drew tags and decided that we would try and hunt together.  I don't believe he had ever been turkey hunting with a bow before.  I had one tag a couple years before but never filled it.  Before the season started a friend of ours Barry, who did some camera work for a local hunting show called, "Wildlife Pursuit," asked me if they could try and film my hunt.  I was all for it.  We just needed to figure out the time and place and we would give it a whirl.  Don B. and I drove around out in the sand hills along the Sheyenne River on a couple scouting trips and spotted quite a few gobblers.  We decided on a spot that we knew we could get permission and just needed to line it up with Barry the camera dude.

It was in the middle of the week when everyone's schedules lined up.  We burned out of Enderlin around 3 p.m. to meet Barry.  On our way down to the hunting spot Barry called us and said get down here in a hurry they are already gobbling.  So we gave it the onion.  When we got down there the turks were "bugling" (inside joke) in every direction.  Barry had all of his camera equipment set up when we got there.  When I was getting out of the van he came running over and said put this on.  It was a Wildlife Pursuit hat.  He filmed me getting my crossbow attached to my chair and getting into the blind.  Now we needed to figure out how to fit three guys and two cameras in one blind. This was happening while turkeys were bugling all over.  After we figured everything out we started to call.  Actually Don B. was our designated caller. He knows how to lure in the ladies. It is more like seducing.

After about four minutes of calling we heard a couple of gobblers bugling that were starting to head our way.  The two toms were headed right towards our decoys which consisted of a couple of hens and one jake that was riding a hen.  They were coming in directly to our left and my only shot was straight in front of us.  They got so close that we could hear them walking in the dry grass beside us.  We could even hear them puff themselves up.  The only way we could see them was through the viewfinder on the camera.  They were only a couple feet away.  They hadn't gobbled for a while but we could still hear them walking around but they would not go in front of the blind to the decoys.  I just told myself that they are going to gobble pretty soon and to not jump or get startled.  Kind of like when a rooster gets up at your feet while walking through tall CRP.  I didn't want to look like a fool in front of the camera because one of the video cameras was fixed on me the whole time. All of a sudden wouldn't you know it, they both bugled at the same time, both of my arms went up and my head snapped back.  Then we all got the giggles but the turks did not seem to mind.  After little while they started to go back from where they came from. Don tried seducing them again, they would answer but they would not turn around.

We didn't have to wait long for some more turks to come by.  This time it was three jakes.  Barry asked me while we were getting set up what I wanted to shoot, a tom or a jake.  I said whatever strolls by.  The three jakes didn't take long to come into the decoys.  They actually circled the decoys.  The only problem was when I had a shot Barry could not see because of the diagonal frame on the blind.  And when he could see them I could not get a shot.  I was holding on the biggest bird waiting for Barry to give me the OK.  Finally he gave me the go-ahead and I shot and I missed.  I shot low.  It looked like I might have shot one of the legs.  They flew away giving us some time to cock the crossbow again.  After some discussion on how the heck I missed the shot we decided to keep calling.  It did not take long to get a response.  This time there were three different big toms.  We played with them for quite a while but they would not come in either.  By this time it was getting pretty dark and Don B. decided he had enough time to try and spot and stalk before the daylight ran out.  He never got a shot at them but when he and Barry were going through the trees they spooked up about 100 deer and 15 to 20 turkeys.  That was quite a sight to see. There was game running everywhere. 

But the hunt was not over yet.  When Don B. was on his way back to the shaggin wagon he saw a couple jakes and thought maybe one was the one that I wounded.  One of them ran and the other just stood there so he decided to take a shot with his bow.  It was a 55 yard shot but we practice that distance all of the time.  After he let the arrow go he heard a big crack and he thought he must've missed.  He went down to check his arrow and the big crack was when it hit a dried out log.  But when he grabbed the arrow he felt blood and then he noticed some feathers strewn around.  Anyway, his spring turkey hunting was over but it was for a good reason. He cleaned up my miss. Thanks.

I went out a couple more times by myself.  Those times I was hunting along the Maple River east of Enderlin.  I always saw or at least heard some birds but nothing ever came in.  I think I educated quite a few birds that spring.  The last day of the season we drove around east of Anslem in the sand hills but we did not see a single bird.  So turkey tag soup was on the menu for 2010. Turkeys and me do not get along.

The summer of 2010 was filled with many shenanigans as usual. There was a lot of baseball, shooting 3-D targets and a little fishing.  I hadn't been fishing for at least a couple years.  There were a lot of different reasons why.  The main reason was most of my buddies that I used to go fishing with had now moved on with their lives and just don't have the time.  The biggest reason why I hadn't is because since I had gotten my last wheelchair, I hadn't gotten around rigging up the new fishing rod holder to the chair.  But after some friendly persuasion from Big J a.k.a. bullheadmaster, I started working on it.  I drew up some plans that I thought might work and gave them to Don B. to engineer the holder.  A couple of days later it was done.

               

These fishes were taken in the Minnesota gill hole.

I only went out a couple of times fishing over the summer.  I planned on doing a lot more but there always seemed to be something going on or somewhere I needed to be for that to happen.  The first time I tried my new rod holder out was at the Casselton Reservoir with Big J.  We met there one fine afternoon and decided to give it a whirl.  The fishing rig worked really well.  I even got to show him how I do my patented double hook set.  We caught quite a few fish that day, nothing huge but it didn't matter, all that I cared was that I was fishing again.  I even caught a good buzz that day. We met some of the locals and ended up at Bowtech's garage, Jason is his name. That was neat.

 

This is the from 2nd Annual Fishingbuddy Bullhead tournament.

The second time I went fishing during that summer was for the First Annual Fishingbuddy Bullhead Tournament.  It was held on a Sunday afternoon at the Sheyenne Diversion in West Fargo.  There were about a dozen fishingbuddy members that showed up.  The fishing wasn't that good but the company and friendships made were worth battling the 90° heat and 30 mile an hour winds. The night before Tyler a.k.a. moosehunter09, his wife and I pre-fished at O'Kelly's. There was karaoke. I dropped the mic like it was hot. Stuff and things happened. I am not saying, but I am saying this could be why I almost overheated and stroked out on the shores of the Sheyenne.

Most of my adventures after this blog entry are in my blog somewhere. I might add a couple more stories to this but then again, maybe not so much.

Thanks for reading, Clint.

Evolution of a Bow Hunter: Part 3.

The next year I set my sights higher and decided that I was going to shoot a buck no matter what.  That season I did most of my hunting around the farm.  There were quite a few deer around and quite a few bucks.  That year a friend of mine also gave me one of his old trail cameras.  This was a high tech flash kind that used a 6 V battery. Looking back at those old trail cam pics and you certainly appreciate how technology has advanced. Geesh.

That summer while waiting for hunting season I got the opportunity to work for the FM RedHawks. For those of you who do not know they are a minor league baseball team based in Fargo, North Dakota. I'm not sure how I got the gig. Someone must've given someone my name and I got a call one day for an interview. I remember being as nervous as a dog shitting tacks because the interview was with the general manager. But he was as cool as the other side of the pillow. There was nothing to be nervous about. The interview about my education and background lasted about ten minutes. The next twenty minutes was a discussion about baseball, Minnesota Twins and RedHawks. Good stuff. I remember it was raining that day so he had me watch the radar and make a judgment call to pull the tarp or not. I said, "Play ball!"

I believe I went to most of the home games that summer. Or at least three quarters of the home games. A lot of travel time and a lot of in the chair time. But it was a great time. I did that for two summers. I suppose I should tell you what I did for them. I would interview players and coaches and write up some stories to put in their game day programs. I would sit up in the press box and soak it all in while drinking free Mountain Dew. I had conversations with legendary Los Angeles Dodger Maury Wills. I was living the dream.

I believe that fall I went bow hunting around 30 times and I believe I saw deer every time. I used to keep track of these type of things. I was mostly just hunting north of the house or on an abandoned farmyard southwest about 2 miles.  While hunting that year I had many firsts.  The first thing that I saw that I had never seen before was a droptine buck.  It was at the old farmyard southwest of our farm.  He wasn't that big but the two other bachelors he was with were enormous.  A friend of mine got one of them and he is on his wall.  The night I encountered them I had a chance to shoot all of them.  The only problem was the farmyard is right next to a road, within 20 yards.  And wouldn't you it, right when they were coming into range a vehicle had to drive by.  I hunted in that spot for the next two weeks and never saw them again. Jerks.

During those two weeks I also saw for the first time while hunting with a bow, a coyote.  I remember there were a couple of does in front of me and all of a sudden they started looking at me.  But I could tell they were not looking at me, it was something behind me. After a while I noticed to my side, within 15 yards Mr. Wile E. Coyote.  Talk about an adrenaline rush.  I knew he wasn't going to attack me but still seeing a predator that close is pretty neat. He circled around me until he got a good whiff and he was off like a prom dress.

That fall I also hunted in another shelter belt to the northeast which I call Herman's belt. This brings me to my last of my firsts. Earlier that summer while watching the outdoor channel I saw a guy using a grunt tube that would work for me.  It is like any other grunt tube, but it has a long tube attached to it, so I had it mounted on my crossbow.  So that fall I learned a lot about grunting. I learned when you should start, how long and how loud.  It really depends on the situation, the time of season, the number of deer around and if you can do it without being detected.  That year I probably scared more deer away grunting than I actually attracted, but I guess that is how you learn.  The first time I ever had a buck grunt back at me was in Herman's.  There were deer a couple of hundred yards away in a cornfield that I was trying to bring in.  All of a sudden behind me within 5 yards I heard a buck grunt at me.  It scared the crap out of me because I didn't expect it behind me and he was so close.  I jumped when I heard it and of course the little buckaroo hightailed it down the belt going about 40 mph.

Later that year, I believe it was the end of October I was hunting north of the house quite a bit.  I had seen a couple of bucks on the trail cam, nothing to brag about but they were out there.  In that belt I was hunting there was also quite a few rubs and scrapes, always a good sign.  The night I shot my first buck, I remember it like yesterday.  I was set up next to a couple of trails that intersected in the shelterbelt 80 yards from my bedroom and I was set up right in front of a fresh rub. This night I was not set up in a pop-up blind, I just had camouflaged burlap wrapped around me.

 There was quite a few does eating in the bean field to the north of me.  I knew it wouldn't be long and they would be going for a drink at the artesian well that was behind me to the south about 150 yards.  All of a sudden they started working their way towards me, about 13 does.  You might think it is good to have that many deer around but it is just the opposite when you are sitting on the ground.  Too many eyes, especially the older does that tend to bust you.  But that night they were more concerned about the twitterpated buck behind them.  As the skinheads filed by me I could hear a buck to my left grunting and snorting with his head on the ground trailing them.  He was at a pretty good trot and before I knew it he went by my shooting lane by about 10 yards to the east.  So I gave a little grunt and he popped his head up, spun around to the west, walked slowly towards my shooting lane and then he poked his head in the belt looking straight south. He was aiming right at me so all I had was his chest to shoot at, probably under 12 yards. Not a great shot to take but over the summer I had practiced that shot numerous times on 3-D targets. So with that confidence I decided to let him have it.  I saw it enter right above his sternum.  He jumped back and started running across the combined soybean field.  He stopped at about 30 yards and I could tell he was struggling.  It looked like he was coughing.  Then he went on his death run for only about another 30 yards and tipped over.

I waited about half an hour and called up my mom on the cell.  When she got out there she was pretty pumped up and she wanted to track him.  I told her to wait, I would call up my friend Lucas to help find him and field dress him.  But while I was calling him up she had already found the buck.

When we were gutting him we could not find the arrow.  We looked through everything and could not find it.  We thought for sure it would be stuck in him because it wasn't going to make it all away through the other end, that's for sure.  Also I remember when we were taking pictures with him he was the smelliest buck I had ever smelt.  He was really into the rut, he was really twitterpated. After the pictures we brought him to the meat locker and had a couple of celebratory cocktails. 

The next day I went back out to try to find the arrow and it was lying right where he stopped, when it looked like he was coughing.  Anyway, he wasn't the biggest buck but he was my first and I will always remember that.  He is on my wall as we speak.  Thanks to Don B, he did the European mount for me.

The next year's hunting season was pretty slow.  There wasn't much for deer out in my territory for some reason.  So that year I did a lot of hunting down on the tree farm.  I believe I hunted just about every inch of the tree farm that year.  I got to know the place pretty well. I got to know the habits of the deer and could probably name most of them because I saw them so often. 

That year I had a couple disappointments down on the tree farm.  I remember one time I grunted a buck across the alfalfa field.  He was coming right into me but that is when my ride decided to pick me up a little early. He was a doozy. I passed up quite a few shots down there that year.  And I remember it was quite cold also that year.  But in January I decided to give it a whirl again. I think it was the last weekend. This time I brought my mom and her camera which had video. That was high-tech then. It was so cold we decided to hunt from the small tower which also had the feeder in front of it.  I knew it would only be a matter of time before the deer were going to check out the feeder and it didn't take long.  There had to be around 15 deer mingling around in front of it so I decided to take the biggest doe I could see.  It was about a 30 yard shot and she ran about 100 yards and tipped over in the old riverbed.  Not a very exciting story but it is the first time that I caught a hunt on video.

Earlier that spring I also got my first turkey tag.  I really didn't get into turkey hunting that much.  I don't know why but turkeys don't turn my crank, but it is still fun to get out of the house and into the woods. Turkeys are jerks.

I believe the next year I did not get anything while hunting.  I'm pretty sure that might've been the year I was in the hospital for a couple of months in the fall. Not very good timing on my part, hunting seasons is priority.

I should've wrote this next part of my story right when it happened, or at least jotted down some notes.  That is when I think I thought of this story below titled, "14 Years."  It doesn't have to do anything with hunting, but you will see for yourself.  I wrote it when I got out of the hospital. (This is when my blogging started.)

14 years

            I am a first timer at this blogging stuff so here it goes.  A couple weeks ago I met someone and they asked me what my story was.  Of course they started out asking how I ended up in a wheelchair.  I told them the shortened, abbreviated story because of course I was in a bar.  Anyway when I got done with my history they asked when it happened to me and I said when I was around 15 years old.  Then they asked me how old I was and I told them 28 year’s old.  Then they told me something that I did not realize, “So you have spent half of your life in and half of your life out of a chair.”  My response was, “I guess.”  The bar patron then asked me how has your life been different?  And that is why I am writing this blog. 

            My first answer to that question is my life is very different.  Besides the obvious differences of living a life in a chair there are countless ways that my life is different behind the scenes.  Which most people cannot even fathom. 

            Then I became to realize that, how do I know that my life is different now than it could be.  There is a lot of hypothetical crap that could’ve happened either way.  I could’ve been a millionaire but I can still be a millionaire.  I could’ve been a famous baseball analyst but I can still be a famous baseball analyst.  I could've had my own hunting show but I think I still could have my own hunting show. The easiest answer I think to that question is I would still be me.  So it is hard to think of how your life could have been different.  Try it sometime, pick out a point in your life and make a decision that changes your life from that point on. Do you think your life would be different or would it be the same?

            Another reason why I’m writing this blog is because I was wondering how many people I have met because I am in a wheelchair.  There are hundreds of people I have met that I know I would have not met otherwise.  Most of the people on Facebook, doctors/nurses and friends I met at college.  Most of the people I have met these last 14 years have become some of my best friends.  Not to knock all the people that I have known all my life but you know what I mean.

            The third reason why I am writing this is that I want to thank everyone who has supported me these last 14 years. 

People who don’t know me, like that barfly always ask me, "How do I do it, how do I live my life?" There are a lot of reasons why I “do it”, live my life as normal as can be.

            The first reason is because I do not know any other way to live my life.  I have been in hospitals numerous times and always see patients who feel sorry for themselves and I would hate myself if I would ever do that.  I can’t stand people who feel sorry for themselves and I do not want anyone to feel sorry for me.  That might seem a little cynical but that is how I feel.  I lived in an apartment with many people with different disabilities and they would never go out of their rooms.  If I did that I would go more nuts.

            The second reason is because of all of the support I have gotten from my family and friends.  You do not know how much that means to me.  Without all of you these last 14 years these could have been the worst 14 years of my life, but I believe they have been the best 14 years of my life.  Thanks.

            That is some pretty serious, deep stuff I just wrote.  It all started when a local idiot in one of my favorite bars asked me a simple question.  Because as most of you know I am a loser magnet.

Peace and chicken grease, Clint.

Now back to the hunting.  The year after my hiatus from hunting there was again not much for deer in my neck of the woods.  So I hunted a lot down on the tree farm again.  In my years of hunting down there I started to notice some areas that seem to get more buck activity than others.  The spot that I now hunt down there most the time is called, "Clint's spot."  It is on the south side of the farm in some tall pines alongside a dirt path. A pinch point. It doesn't look like a good spot, but every time I sit there there's always something coming or going onto the big field.  It is in between the bedding area and feeding area. It is a perfect spot to ambush them while they transition between eating and sleeping. Another good thing about sitting there is the farthest shot would be 15 yards. Nice.

That year I also started doing morning hunts.  I should've started doing this earlier in my career because there is something about hunting in the morning.  I do not know what it is, maybe it is just because it is so quiet most of the time with hunting in the morning.  The only problem is I sometimes think you scare more deer getting into your spot then you would do in an afternoon hunt.

That year like most years down on the tree farm I had a lot of encounters with bucks but somehow I was always in the wrong spot.  So I decided to hit my spot because I knew some type of deer would eventually come by that I wanted to pull the trigger on.  The day I shot my second buck I was in my spot pretty early in the afternoon.  The day before, right in front of me in the swamp, I watched four bucks size each other up for about 45 minutes.  All they did was walk around stiff legged and strut their stuff.  I had a chance to shoot one of them but they would not come in all the way.  He was about 3 yards away from being skewered.  I believe all of them were 4x4's.  Anyway back to the day after.  I hadn't been sitting there long when a doe and two fawns walked by within 10 feet.  As soon as they left I noticed some movement to my right.  It was a little 3 x 3 basket buck that had a limp.  He came right down the path and stood in front of me eating some well-placed crabapples for about 10 minutes and I noticed he was still favoring his front leg.  So I decided to shoot him.  Anyway he was so close, around 7 yards that I shot a little too high but I knew I hit him hard.  He turned and ran through the swamp and I heard him crash about 30 yards away but could not see him.  So I called up my tracker a.k.a. mom and she was on the scene within 30 minutes.  Because I shot him high there was no blood trail so it was going to be a tough track.  But she was determined to find him and went on her way just tracking his actual hoof tracks through the fallen leaves.  I thought she might need some help so I called up Lucas and he was there in no time. But by the time he got there wouldn't you know it, mom had already found him.  He does not have a big rack by any means but he was a big bodied deer.  Kevin the landowner, my sister Shelie and my dad also came down to help celebrate. The Morgan was flowing. It didn't suck.

Lucas and Kevin my gut guys.

Over Thanksgiving in 2008 my cousin Stephanie and my friend Jeremy decided to schedule their wedding and tie the knot in Las Vegas. I knew I wasn't going to miss this. Flying there was out of the question because of my electric wheelchair so I decided to make the 22 hour road trip down there. The decision was easy, but I knew the road trip was going to suck. This was because I was supposed to only be in the chair six hours at a time. But I was going to stretch a little bit. Clint style. So this meant I would have to stay over three nights on the way down.

The first night my dad, mom and I drove a little over six hours and stopped at Spearfish, South Dakota. The next day we drove through the Black Hills a little bit on our way through Casper and down to Rawlins, Wyoming where we stayed the second night. I had never been in this area of the country so it was awesome. I love that area. Seeing antelope and mule deer did not suck. Plus counting the miles of fence line between roads was quite amazing.

Driving from Rawlins through Green River and turning south before getting to Salt Lake City was an awesome stretch of scenery. I had really never seen mountains before. Even though it was foggy going through Park City driving towards Provo the falling rock signs on one side of the highway and the reservoir on the other side was awesomely nerve-racking. Our next stop would be in Fillmore, Utah and this day was Thanksgiving. I believe I had a lettuce salad with water at the motel. We learned that there were no alcohol sales on holidays in that state. Geesh. 

The next day we were headed towards Vegas through some pretty cool territory. The steep upgrades through the rocky cliffs south of St. George are neat. The semis were probably going 15 mph uphill. We were flying by them in the shaggin wagon.

Myself with Stephanie & Jeremy at the Trio.

The desert was pretty much just the desert until you can start to see the tall buildings in Las Vegas. It was a sight to be seen. I bet it is really something to see it at night. But this was about midafternoon when we pulled into the Excalibur Casino. The first thing I needed to when I got there was to eat. And for some reason I was craving a big Mac. Wouldn't you know it they had the McDonald's right in the casino. After that I ventured down to the bar area and surprisingly found all of my relatives and friends. We later named this bar the Trio. This was the gathering spot.

Some of the Enderlin boys on the rooftop reception.

I believe I took a little nap before getting up for that Friday evening. It was a good thing. Because we did stuff and things until late in the evening/morning. I don't remember what time the wedding was on Saturday but most people looked a little bedraggled. Including myself. 

After one day in Vegas.

After the wedding they had the reception on a rooftop and that was good times. I should backtrack a little. I started feeling poorly on the way down to Vegas, actually right before we left but I didn't tell anyone. Like I had stuff in my lungs. Probably pneumonia. But I wasn't going to pass up this trip. Anyway, during the reception I started hacking on something and good thing the groom was right behind me. He slapped me on the back and I finally got something moving. Thank you Swany.

After the reception we decided to head back to the Excalibur. One good thing about Las Vegas is a lot of their taxis are wheelchair accessible. But this does not mean they are the safest things. They do not strap you in. Or at least this crazy bastage taxi driver did not. As he was slamming on the gas and brakes as my head was banging the back window. I was laughing my head off with my parents and sister Shelie in the seat in front of me. Good times.

Once we got back to the casino I believe Cody and I decided to blow our life savings on the slot machines. We even tried poker for a while but with no luck. Even though we did have one lady of the night offer some luck to us. We declined. That was entertaining.

I believe most of the people took off for back home the next day which was Sunday. I believe we took it easy that Sunday or didn't hit it as hard and took off on Monday. I was beat.

On the way home we decided to take a different route. Going north into Utah we decided to go east on interstate I 70 towards Denver. The first day we made it all the way to Richfield, Utah. This was by far my favorite area of the trip. This was like prime elk and mule deer territory. I can see myself living there easily. The next day we woke up and headed east on the interstate through the desolate territory before the Rockies. We needed a little rest stop so we stopped at Ghost Rock historical site. This is where I knew I was sick. I was hacking up not good stuff.

This is me trying to breathe at Ghost Rock.

As we were getting east of Green River, Utah we could see behind us a storm brewing. As we got further into Colorado we found a local radio station and they said to hunker down if traveling. We made it to the exit of Vail when it started to snow. We found a motel and decided to wait out the storm. I kind of felt like Lloyd Christmas except I didn't have a motorbike I had the shaggin wagon and a motorized cart.

When we woke up the next day the interstate was not in good condition. The warning signs were up to chain up your vehicles. Of course we did not have chains but we were from North Dakota and could handle a little compacted snow. It was slow going heading down the interstate towards Denver. I think it took an hour extra. When we could see Denver dad exhaled and said some expletives as he finally took his hands off of the steering wheel. White knuckles happened.

Getting more windshield washer fluid at Breckenridge exit. Making sure this stuff is rated for below freezing. The stuff we got in Utah gelled up going through the pass. It got a little nippy…

We drove through Denver and all the way to North Platte, Nebraska. I believe we only stopped once for lunch. Once we got to North Platte I needed to get to lay down while they went out for supper and had some cocktails. The next day we headed straight north towards Pierre, South Dakota and on to Aberdeen. Somewhere in between there we decided to head all the way home. It was going to be a long day but I knew I wasn't going to get up for least three or four days when I got home. My body needed rest.

Holy shinto that was quite the trip. I don't think I could handle it again. I'm sure I could but I wouldn't want to, I don't think. I beat the hell out of my body but it was well worth it.

I believe I only rested one day and I decided I needed to get to the clinic and check out my lung problem. I got into the Enderlin clinic and my doctor told me after she listened to my lungs, "You do know that they have clinics in Vegas don't you? You dumb head!" I'm pretty sure most of you know who I'm talking about. She is the best. Anyway she ordered some antibiotics or some type of medication for my pneumonia and also gave me a nebulizer with medication. She told me to keep my door closed with a humidifier going and rest, plus don't do anything stupid for least three days. Ha ha. Good stuff. Glad I lived through it.

Thanks for reading, Clint.

Part 4 coming soon…

Evolution of a Bow Hunter: Part 2.

The next thing I remember was staring at the ceiling in the hospital bed, but that was a month later. I remember a couple of things in the hospital after waking up but it is pretty blurry still. I had a breathing tube going down my throat so I could not talk. I really didn’t realize what was going on until the second month in the hospital. All I knew was that I could not move my legs and I could not move my hands and fingers.

I don’t really remember talking to any doctors until one day they said they are going to have a conference and they wanted family members to be there. I’m sure everyone knew a lot more than I did and they all knew what my diagnosis was going to be. I remember being wheeled into a conference room and most of my aunts and uncles were there along with my parents and sisters. That is when the doctors finally told me or I finally realized that I would be paralyzed for the rest of my life. They also told me that I would be ready to go home the next week. I remember being in shock that they were going to let me go home because I was not “fixed.” I suppose I was too young and naive to realize that there is no fixing paralysis.

I got home that March and it was hard to realize what had happened and how everything had changed so quickly. While I was in the hospital my parents had to remodel the house in order to make it wheelchair accessible. Everything from that point on was different and would never be the same. Or so I thought. 

I didn’t go back to high school that year or at least go to school. I finished my sophomore classes that summer with help from a tutor. That summer I did not do too much because I didn’t think I could do too much. Before school started in the fall for my junior year I received my electric wheelchair which helped in my recovery in many ways. It is hard to explain how dependent you are on someone else when you have a manual wheelchair. The electric wheelchair let me be somewhat independent. It also let me do what I like to do most and that is to get outside and enjoy the outdoors. Even though I didn’t go too far, at least I could imagine doing things and going places by myself. 

Going back to high school was great. I was scared people were going to treat me differently and feel sorry for me. I’m sure there was some of that but for the most part your friends are still your friends no matter what. They treated me like I was the same old Clint. I didn’t do much in high school that year or my senior year. In fact, I did just enough to get by to graduate. I didn't really do any extracurricular activities. My high school was very accommodating though. They changed my classes around moving them to the lower floors. They also added a medieval wheelchair elevator that was kind of scary. 

I believe the thing that got me most back into enjoying life again was after my high school graduation. This is when my friend Kondo asked me to help him coach the Enderlin Babe Ruth baseball team. As most of you know I live and die baseball. Coaching seemed to get me out of my shell and made me realize that I can do stuff and things I wanted to, with some limitations. Just getting out and being with friends was another turning point in my recovery. Kondo was a big part of this. And so were the players. They didn’t look at me as someone in a wheelchair, they looked at me as someone who could help them with their baseball fundamentals and someone who could lighten the mood with some good old Babe Ruth baseball humor. Some of you will know what I mean, especially the ones who were coached by Kondo. 

 
That fall in 1997 I decided to go to North Dakota State University to further my education. I had no clue what I was going to go into. I was actually thinking of agricultural economics. But I knew I wasn't too fond of math and science. Luckily for me I took a mass communication class for an elective and I really liked. The best part about it was it was mostly group projects. Actually, the best part about mass communication is the ratio of women to men. It is like 70/30. As a red blooded American male, that doesn't suck. That first year of college was quick. Amazingly, I even passed everything. I could tell you stories from that year but they are not going in here.

Now back to the hunting. In the summer of 1998 I received a phone call from Delmere McLean, who was a member of U.F.F.D.A. (United Federation for Disabled Archers). He asked me if I wanted to go on the bow hunt south of Leonard at the 4-H camp. My response was, “I can’t shoot a bow but I would come along and watch.” Delmere quickly and happily responded, “We are going to give you a crossbow and you are going to shoot.” I was kind of skeptical of what he was saying but went along with it. He told me to meet him and his crew at the 4-H camp that summer so I could get my crossbow. My dad and I went down and met the people who were organizing the hunt and they opened my eyes to what was possible. They gave me a Barnett Wildcat crossbow that did not have any adaptive equipment attached to it, but they said they would work with me to get it possible for me to shoot.

Sidebar: The awesome group of people who raised all of the money and did everything to get the first UFFDA hunt going in North Dakota eventually became their own organization. This organization is awesome and they have helped many a person like me achieve things they did not think were possible. Twist of Fate does not suck. They host a hunt every September south of Leonard in the beautiful Sandhills. Follow the link  for more info: Twist of Fate.

As soon as we got back home from meeting Delmer and crew, that's when my dad started working on the crossbow and the mount that was going to let me be able to shoot a bow by myself. We had to do quite a bit of manufacturing on our own. A lot of trial and error was done, but actually we got it pretty much perfected. I have used this same set up for almost 20 years. The forearm and the butt stock were removable on this crossbow. That made adapting it a lot easier. This crossbow was also very small and light, especially with everything removed that wasn't needed. Dad welded together a frame that let me shoot the crossbow by myself by the time the hunt came around in September. His welding skills do not suck. 

When I got down to the 4-H camp that September it was quite an eye-opener to see all the people there with different disabilities that were shooting compound bows and crossbows. People with no arms, people with no legs and even one man who was blind who was still enjoying hunting with limitations. This experience really opened my eyes to believe that I was really going to be able to hunt again. 

The first day that I went out hunting was on some of Wall’s land west of the 4-H camp. I had Bruce Eggen sitting with me the first time I went out hunting. Just to find out what I needed to help my hunting experience. And it did not take long before we realized that I was going to need something on my crossbow to help aim up, down, right and left. We were set up behind two round bales when a doe and two yearlings came by. I could not get my scope/crosshairs on the doe because I could not aim without moving my chair. For those of you who have never deer hunted before making noise before you shoot usually doesn’t work so well. As the deer left I started to think about what I could add on my crossbow to help in aiming. I should backtrack a little. Up till now my crossbow was fixed solidly on my mount and the mount was solid on my chair. This meant the only way that I could aim was by moving my chair by engaging the motor which made noise, that was for right and left. Up and down movement would have been a crapshoot. 

On my way back to the 4-H camp that night I thought about mounting my crossbow on a spotting scope window mount. So after supper I drove up to Scheels and picked one up. The next morning Dad and I were in the shop trying to figure out how to mount a crossbow on the spotting scope window mount. As it turned out it was a lot easier than we thought. We got everything hooked up pretty quickly and it worked pretty slick. That morning before we went back to the 4-H camp I shot a couple times and was amazed at how easy it was considering a month earlier I didn’t think that I could shoot a crossbow at all. 

On Saturday during the hunt there is a shoot when all of the hunters draw a target out of a hat and have to try to hit it at 15 yards. This is just to show everyone what different type of equipment everyone uses and how they use it. And the targets are not ordinary targets. They are playing cards, records, balloons and ping-pong balls. Guess what I drew, ping-pong ball. I remember I was nervous as a dog shitting tacks when I had to go up in front of everyone and try to hit this, knowing I had only shot my crossbow couple of times. I remember lining up thinking I should aim low because I had been shooting high. That is when I pulled back on the trigger and the next thing I knew everyone was cheering because I cracked that ping-pong ball dead center. Holy shinto. I was excited. 

I didn’t end up getting a deer at the 4-H camp that year but it was memorable anyway. Just meeting all the guides, hunters and volunteers was something I will never forget. Some of those awesome people are still with Twist of Fate to this day. 

After the hunt at the 4-H camp I went out hunting a couple of times during October but with no luck. That was until Halloween. I remember Halloween was on a Sunday that year because my friend Smoothy was going to pick me up to go hunting that day. I remember it was Sunday because Smoothy had to go away for a while starting Monday, but that is another story. It was a perfect Fall day with very little wind. I remember this because while waiting for Smoothy as usual, I was outside thinking he is going to get here too late to be able to get to where we want to go before dark. Just then I saw him coming down the driveway and he asked me if I was ready to go and we were on our way. We decided to go hunting down by Anderson’s a.k.a. Hartford Valley. We got out of the van and were looking for a place to set up in between a cornfield and Maple River. As we were going down the dirt trail we found a hay bale about 10 yards from the cornfield with a small mud puddle in between them. Smoothy said this was going to work perfect. He said the deer would come out of the corn, take a drink out of this mud puddle and you should have a perfect shot.

So he got me all set up and went to a tree stand that was within 50 yards. He figured that was far enough away so that he could smoke a cigert and the deer would not smell him and bust me. It wasn’t 20 minutes later when I heard some rustling in the corn. That is when two yearlings came out and started drinking out of the puddle. They were both too little to shoot, so I just watched them for a little while until their mom came out. She too, just like the others came out of the corn and drank from that puddle just as Smoothy said they would. That is when I lined her up and took the shot. I didn’t know exactly where I hit her, all I knew was there was a bunch of commotion in the corn and it sounded like she was breakdancing which is always a good sign. I waited a little bit and then I started whistling to Smoothy to get his attention. The next thing I knew, he was running toward me with his long legs flailing about asking me if I hit something. I told him that I shot and heard a lot of noise afterwards but did not know if I hit her good. That’s when we started looking around and found some blood on a corn husk. Then just like a bloodhound he disappeared in the corn and only went about 50 yards before he was hollering, “You got her, you got her!” I think he was more excited than I was. That night we shared in the harvest by eating the heart and tenderloins. It was the best tasting deer I ever had...

I cannot explain what I felt like to be back out hunting after everything I had been through. Just being in the outdoors again was worth everything. The main thing it gave me was independence. Not having to rely on anyone or burden anyone to reach a goal was very gratifying. I can pick the place where I want to hunt. I can pick when I want to hunt. I can choose to shoot a deer or let them go. Everything is up to me. Hunting with a bow is all about just you and the outdoors. You learn a lot about yourself and others when you're by yourself with just your thoughts sitting in the trees in the middle of nowhere. I just love it. It doesn't suck. 

After harvesting that doe that first year back in the woods, I was a little picky the next couple of years. I think I shot the first one just to prove to myself that I could do it. Not shooting anything the next couple years wasn't because I wasn't hunting, it was more of trying to become a better hunter. Also, of course I was looking for Mr. Big. Those two years I hunted more then I had ever done in the past. I've probably average going out around 30 times each year. I really learned a lot about how to pattern deer. There was a lot of trial and error. The only problem was every one always asked me, "Did you get anything?" "Why haven't you shot anything?" So the next year I decided to do something about it. That fall I was invited down to the 4-H camp again for the Twist of Fate hunt. That is usually the end of September. When I get invited to their hunt I still go out hunting before but would never shoot anything unless it would go on my wall. That year I was teamed up with my guide Less. He is a great guy and a great guide. The guides down there go through a lot of work finding the deer, patterning the deer and setting up blinds. Anyway back to the hunt. The spot I was hunting at that year was about a mile east of the camp on Gordon's land. Gordon is one of the landowners that graciously let us use their property. His property is one of the best I have ever hunted. The spot I was in the first night was kind of what I would call swamp buck territory. It was down in the thick woods along the Sheyenne river bottom. I remember it was really dark because of all the tall trees and thick underbrush. I remember thinking to myself when I got in there that I was in the battle with time because no sunlight was coming in. Shooting with a scope you need at least a little bit of sunlight or moonlight to see the crosshairs. I believe I had two or three does come in right away and then nothing for a couple of hours. Right when I was thinking nothing was going to come out I spotted a little 2 x 3 swamp buck walking right towards my shooting lane. This is when I for some reason decided to yawn. Because of my paralysis, when I yawn my arms move a little. And wouldn't you know it, my arm hit my trigger and my arrow went flying through the trees kind of like the Plink-O game on the Price is Right. So I was stuck there without any killing device and the buck walked right by without a care in the world. When Less came back to pick me up he noticed that my arrow was gone and he asked me what happened. Let's just say everyone back at the camp had a good laugh. 

After that little fiasco we decided to move to another spot the next night with a little bit more light and hopefully more action. That day we also rigged up a walkie-talkie to my tray so just in case I had another yawning attack I could call him up and we could cock another arrow. This was a grand idea until it started raining, this will come up later in the story, but I digress. The spot where I was hunting that night was on the sidehill and the deer would be about 10 yards below me, at about a 20 yard shot. I was used to shooting on flat terrain so this was a new experience for me. Anyway it wasn't 15 minutes and it started raining. Not hard but about to get everything wet especially the walkie-talkie. About 15 minutes after that a nice big dry doe came in to the Golden Nugget pile, you baiters will know what I'm talking about. Anyway shooting downhill I was always told to shoot a little lower because there is less gravity pushing down, in simple terms. So I aimed just below her armpit and let it fly. She took off running into the woods, it sounds like about 70 yards away. I could not tell if I hit her or not. It sounded to me that she was just spooked. I really started to doubt myself when I looked down at the spot where I shot and saw my arrow sticking out of the ground and I could not see any blood on it. This is when the walkie-talkie comes into play. I decided to call up Les and have him cock my bow again. But when I tried to hit the intercom button everything started sliding. So I decided to take my frustration out on the little piece of monkey poop and started beating it. During my little tirade I must've hit a button because I could hear him asking if I needed anything. But I could not respond because of the moistness and slippage. So I started beating it again and I heard him say I am coming. It didn't take him long to get to where I was and when he got there he asked me, "You have another yawning attack." We both got a good kick out of that.

Then I told him I shot at a doe but could not tell if I smoked it or not. So he went down to the spot where my arrow was and it was caked with blood. I thought to myself what a relief. It didn't take him long before he found her. We got all of my stuff ready to go, we headed back to his pickup dragging the deer and we called for my mom who had the shaggin wagon. It was still daylight so we decided to field dress her right there instead of back at camp. When we were looking at the entry and exit wounds we noticed that it was real low and we wondered what I hit. After looking through the organs we noticed that there was a perfect three blade slice right through the middle of the heart. So we saved the heart and brought it back to the camp for the guys to see. When we got back to the camp I told the guys I always hit what I'm aiming at. I had to get back at them for them ribbing the night before. By the way I think I still have the heart in my freezer if you want to see what I was aiming at...

Thanks for reading, Clint.

Part 3 coming soon…