The Smell of Success

By Buddy English

(Note: This story was published in the Spring 98 issue of Longbows & Recurves magazine!)

The cold easterly wind again brought a shiver out of me as I huddled deeper into my jacket in the darkness of the predawn. It was November 5 and it appeared that the rut had arrived earlier than usual. As I approached downwind of the woodlot that held my treestand, I could smell the familiar, pungent aroma of rutting bucks. A smell, I might add, that is only enjoyed by whitetail maniacs like myself.

After climbing into my treestand, I fastened my safety belt and sat down to await the coming of daybreak. Just before legal shooting light had arrived, the sound of antlers crashing together could be heard ringing through the trees. It was me, of course, trying to convince the big boys that we needed to have a visit. Twenty minutes later, after a intense scan of the area, I again brought the antlers together accompanied with several aggressive grunts. I could see an abundance of shredded trees and a large scrape off to my left. This was perfect, as I expected any approaching deer to come from my right.

As I sat there daydreaming of the monster that must be in the area, I lost track of the task at hand. I looked up to see a large buck approaching from about forty yards. Silently cursing myself for not being more alert, I slowly rose in anticipation of a shot. The large-bodied whitetail had heard my rattling and decided that he had better check his scrape for signs of the intruders. With the wind as it was, I had to shoot before he reached the scrape and detected me. When he reached fifteen yards, in a small opening, I brought the 62# recurve to full draw. My fingers then slipped from the string sending the deadly missile on its way.

At the shot there was a loud crack., some crashing of brush, and all was silent. I was unable to see the flight of my arrow and was concerned that maybe I had hit a limb or worse that I shot low, hitting the leg, and wounding the magnificent creature. The shot had felt good but I was unsure. In desperation, I brought the rattling antlers together again to see if he might return. Noise from the direction he had ran caught my attention. I thought that perhaps I was going to get another chance, when from the bushes, stepped out a small six-pointer. He helped me pass the customery half-hour wait to check for signs of the hit.

Climbing down, I felt sick when I could find no blood nor my arrow. I decided, since the woodlot was very small, that I would circle around the outside and see if I could pick-up his exit trail. Having no luck, I started making small zig-zags inside the trees looking for blood. Boy was I surprised when I almost stepped on my buck barely forty yards from my stand! My fears were unfounded as my arrow had entered the chest cavity through the shoulder and exited behind the offside shoulder. Hitting the bone impeded penetration causing my arrow to remain in the deer, which in turn, kept him from leaving a good blood trail. Dragging the heavy nine-pointer out of the woods, I again could smell the scent of rutting bucks. Although unpleasant to most, I have come to think of it as the smell of success!!!