Ahh, its opening day of gun season. Time to put the bow away for a little while and put the shoulder strap and slug barrel on the 870 wingmaster. As I look into the closet for my hunters orange and boxes of Remington sluggers, a feeling of relief hits me all of a sudden. How did I get to this point in the season? I get out my gun season supplies from the closet and look over at the chest freezer next to it. I know what's inside of it, and sadly what is not. How is it already gun season and why does my freezer look so uninhabited. As I'm packing my bag for the drive down to Ryan's, my mind recaps the seasons "highlights". I try to recall when the last time was that I had made it to Thanksgiving weekend without feeling at least one tag during the first part of archery season. If the last time was more than a memory, I would have to blow the dust of the file. Was it lack of stand time? Deer sightings? Was I too picky? NO. Was it lack of prep work? Did I not shoot enough? NO. I hunted 6 counties up to this point and had my share of chances and opportunities, but somehow managed to completely fudge them all up. First mistake was Strouds. Dave welcomed Mike and I onto his slice of heaven, and it truly is an awesome property. I took a shot at a mature doe, only to hit it forward and low at 42 yards. That deer was never recovered, by us at least. That stung a tad, but I have had that happen before. It's part of bow hunting sometimes and I'm well aware of it. I let it roll off my back. Little did I know, that was going to set the precedence for the upcoming weeks. Fast forward to November the 8th. I had some good bucks on camera behind the house and was holding off hunting it too much until late pre rut/rut. I settled in the blind that evening with a decent crosswind working. Right before dark I see a big bodied deer out in the bean field. I gave him a couple tending grunts, which was to his liking, and he made a gallop for my set up. As he got to the makeshift rubbing post and licking branch, I clipped my release to the D loop. At 28 yards I pull back and go through the mental checklist. Pin steadied at my intended impact site and I let it go. I hear a loud thwack before I can see the lighted nock. Milliseconds later I see that nock sailing wide left of the buck. The respectable eight point bounds off 40 yards, looks back, and puts his nose back on the ground. He continues on in his search for does. I'm disgusted with myself at this point and still clueless as to what happened. Day turns to night and I get my stuff packed up to do the walk of shame home. When I turn on the headlamp I see my mistake, I had hit the bottom of the window in the blind. IDIOT. I get to work the next morning and receive a text from Mike that has a picture of my number one buck dead on the side of the road. Hit by a car 1/4 mile from the house. I'm crushed but still to this day I'm grateful to know I won't be chasing a ghost. That night I had the same wind and surprisingly still in good spirits. I mean hell, its still early November. The rut is on and a great time to be a bow hunter. That night I didn't see any horns, but had three does come in to the decoy. One doe was extremely curious and circled around towards me. It's time to put some meat in the freezer at this point. She gave me a picture perfect 16.5 yard shot. I'm already thinking about fried deer heart for dinner. Crack! Again my arrow is headed into the abyss, nowhere near my target. As the deer bounds off I can see the fiberglass of the cross hub support is shattered. I hit the blind AGAIN! Heads down and I'm cursing myself on the dark walk to the house. Now were back to the morning of gun season...
