Through My Eyes
I sit high up in the Elm tree that I have chosen for this evening’s bowhunt. It is amazing what you can see from twenty feet above the autumn woods. It is late October and bowseason has been in for almost a month now. The pre-rut is in full swing and the bucks are moving, checking their territory for a hot doe and keeping an eye out for rival intruders. The smell of fall is in the air. The fall colors of yellow, orange, and red float by me to take their place on the forest floor. The smell of burning leaves from a nearby backyard fills my nostrils. I hear the sounds of the boisterous blue jay, coupled with the drilling of the red-headed woodpecker above me. I hear the squirrels digging through the dry autumn leaves searching for food to store for the upcoming winter. I see the chipmunks also searching for winter’s food. It is about an hour before sunset, so I pick up my rattling antlers and imitate the fight between two bucks trying to gain dominance in order to claim his doe. I finish and hang my antlers back on a limb, there is an eerie silence as the woods listens for something to happen. I blow on my grunt call to further entice a good buck into bow range. I wait for what seems like an eternity, and then I hear a twig break beneath the leaf cover of the forest floor. I hear the familiar sound of footsteps in the dry leaves. I can tell right away that it is a deer. I strain my keen ears to pick up the location as I reach for my bow. The sound is from upwind, this is good; the wind is in my favor. It is getting darker by the second now, not much time before the clock runs out on this hunt. I scan the woods searching for the deer that is seeking the fight it heard moments earlier. Finally, I spot the tips of antlers through the brush; he is fifty yards away and closing. His present course will bring him within twenty yards of my tree. He steps out from behind a tree and I see he is a tall racked ten, he is a shooter. I go from being a humble observer of Mother Nature to a silent, deadly assassin ready to seal the buck’s fate in a split second. The buck is the epitome of a survivor: wary, cunning, strong, and fast. He is now just a few yards from my shooting lane. He stops to check the air for the intruders, and for danger. His ears rotate like radars trying to pick up unfamiliar sounds. I see battle scars from previous encounters with rivals; no doubt he was the winner. These are his woods, I am just a visitor. He knows something isn’t right. He steps behind a tree and I come to full draw praying he takes two more steps. He pauses behind the tree and my arm starts to strain against the drawn bowstring. He takes the final steps and I put my pin behind his front shoulder. I say a quick prayer, “Lord, make this arrow fast and accurate,” and I touch the trigger of my release, in-turn sending the deadly arrow on its way. I hear the “thud” as I see the arrow disappear through the side of the magnificent buck. With a mule kick the buck is off in a flash, not knowing what just happened. I see him crashing through the woods with reckless abandon. He slowly comes to a staggering stop as the life is drained from his muscular body. He takes another step and crashes to the ground. I realize that I am shaking uncontrollably. I have to sit down to keep from falling out of my stand. I take a deep breath and a sigh of relief. After a few minutes I slowly climb down and make my way to the buck. As I walk up to him, I see just how truly amazing this animal is. I kneel down by his side and admire his beauty; his antlers are bigger than I thought. I look into his eyes and notice that life’s light has flickered out. I close my eyes and thank God for putting such a magnificent creature on this earth for me to hunt. I take the buck’s life, but he in turn gives us meat for months to come so that we may live on. I think about the wonderful life that this buck has lived and am excited at the sons that he must have roaming the woods. Hopefully, I will meet them in the years to come. You see, I am a bowhunter. This is not just a hobby or past-time for me; it is a way of life. My life revolves around bowhunting. There is nowhere on earth I would rather be, then sitting high up in the tree tops, observing and interacting with Mother Nature and all of God’s great creatures. This is bowhunting as seen through my eyes.
By Mark R. White
June 10, 2003
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