The First Hunt

My day hunting I did not know what to expect fully, it was September 18th, 2021, opening day of the Wisconsin bow season. I had just purchased my bow three months early and spent the summer practicing, determined to be ready when that deer came across my path in the woods. I had received permission from my Uncle Tim to hunt at his property in Eastern Wisconsin where he had a couple stands and put in a food plot.

I had studied the gameplan thoroughly that week on OnX, on how I was going to make the 200 yard walk in from my truck to the stand my uncle had crafted out of my younger cousin’s old playground platform. As I lay awake the night before the hunt I envisioned all the scenarios from seeing a plethora of deer, to the big one to nothing all. I psyched myself out of all the things that I might run into in the dark, a rabid racoon or one of the four mountain lions in Wisconsin. It was a stressful sleep and when it came time to wake up in the morning I was awake 20 minutes before my 4:30am alarm. I devoured a bagel and drank some coffee, jumped in the car that I had already loaded up my gear the night before and headed off into the darkness.

When I arrived, I quietly maneuvered around my car grabbing my bow and gear before spraying myself down with Scent Killer and beginning to the walk. As I meandered, I walked slowly and when I had only made it 50 yards from the car, I heard a crashing through the woods and creatures moving in the bushes around me, I prayed it wasn’t the mountain lion and continued walking. When I got to the converted swing set, I was pleasantly surprised when there was not a rabid racoon waiting for me on the chair, only a swarm of mosquitos. I got in, turned on my Thermacell and began getting my bow setup, triple checking I had an arrow on correctly and facing the right way (that part was kind of a joke). And then there was nothing else left to do but wait, slowly the heart rate from the walk in and eagerness began to calm down. I sat quietly and waited for the sun to begin to rise…while it sounds like a such a simple thing to sit in wait for the sun to rise I

One of the numerous sunrises I have been able to witness since beginning hunting

had not done that in 10+ years…just sitting in darkness, watching and listening. And I remember the cadence: first in the twilight I heard a murder of crows begin to talk amongst each other, then smaller song birds began to wake up and say good morning, a flock of geese passed by and then the squirrels began to climb down from their trees. It was such a orderly sequence of events that seemingly each species had their own wake up time. As the darkness turned to gray and gray to light, there was seemingly more layers being added to the scene. When the light came, the branches I had been looking at questioning if they were antlers confirmed that they were tree limbs. No deer presented themselves like I had been daydreaming for the past couple of weeks.

As I began to take a deep breathe, I heard a “CRUNCH” behind me and I sprung around and see a flash of brown, my heart rate spiked and I looked closer to identify a squirrel jumping across the forest floor. Then another and another, those first couple hours I learned a lesson that still applies today…19 out of 20 times it’s a squirrel. I sat more peacefully and I began to think about everything and nothing, it was very pleasant. In what seemed like a short period of time hours passed. Eventually as the temperature began to rise into the 70s around 11 am I decided it would be a good time to get down and grab some lunch and a quick nap. Although I was tired from early wake up call and had not spotted a deer, I retreated to lunch feeling optimistic and with a newfound calm.

I returned at 3pm for the second shift. At this time the temperature was firmly in the 70s and the hum of grasshoppers was in a full rhythm. As I climbed back into the swing set I had a mild layer of sweat and was met again with mosquitos as my Thermacell shield had not yet been established. As I sat, I began to set my expectations for the day, even though new I knew the beginning of the season would likely be quiet especially with the hot weather. So I agreed if I saw a doe or two it would be a productive sit. As the Thermacell set its barrier and the sweat subsided, I again found a calm and even though I was not actively doing anything I was not actively looking at my phone which is my natural tendency at home or work at the first sign of boredom. It was peaceful, I felt like I was where I needed to be and did not need to be doing anything else. As golden hour approached about 40 minutes before sunset there was this minute of silence, no squirrels rustling, no birds talking, no wind making the leaves talk and nothing moving. It seems like a small thing but it was incredibly noticeable and it is something I experienced many times since, a perfect calm if you will.

As the last 15 minutes approached, I thought it would be a good time to start organizing my gear for the walk out. I began to return items to my backpack when I heard branches being pushed aside on the other side of the field (too loud for squirrels), I froze and saw a creature with antlers protruding from it emerge from the woods into tall grass. Holy shit…it was a buck, a big handsome buck with large antlers extending from its head. My heart rate went from a resting heart rate of 35 to 160 in a moment, I began to shake and my mind raced at 1,000mph. It was my first diagnosis of Buck Fever. The buck began to meander towards the food plot I pulled out my range finder (65 yards), I measured to the edge of the food plot (40 yards). Even though I had practiced effectively to 40 yards, I told myself coming in that 30 yards should be my effective range. I was sitting and began to reach for my bow, not having practiced sitting I told myself I should stand up for a shot attempt. The buck continued to move closer to the plot and I slowly began to take my weight off the seat to get ready to stand…CREAK! The chair alerted the surroundings to my movement, the buck’s head turned immediately. I froze, then what was likely 5 seconds but felt like five minutes I made the decision to stay seated, another softer creak. The buck returned its gaze on me. Now skeptical began turning at angle more parallel to me and would take a step, return to review the swing set with me in it and step slowly. By the angle he was on, I did not think he would be getting too close to me and I think he had determined to maybe return later to the plot. As he approached the edge I

had measured to 40 yards, I determined that would be my only opportunity. I began to pull on my bow string…WTF, my 50lb draw now felt like 100lbs! “What is going on??” between the buck fever and being in a seated position I had not practiced the draw process was no longer like I had practiced. I finally got the string back but now the steadiness I was used to at the range, was absolutely gone. The pins shifted up and down, side to side as my body shook with the adrenaline. The buck now fully aware that something was different with surroundings looked at me constantly as he stepped cautiously. As he creeped the draw hold got heavier and heavier…he finally emerged from the tall grass and I positioned my 40y pin halfway up his body behind his front leg. Still shaking, “It’s now or never” I told myself and increased pressure on the release. SHWACK, the mechanical broadhead made contact with the buck and he sprinted back on the path he had come from and disappeared into the woods. WTF just happened, I began to try and process everything as buck fever still engulfed me. I think, I got him? Did I get him? Where did I hit him? Holy shit did I just ill a big buck?? I envisioned being interviewed by a hunting podcast talking about how on my first day hunting I had harvested a monster buck! Still shaking I texted my nephews, my dad, my uncle and my buddies “I just shot a buck!!”.

As I sat there, all these thoughts swirled in my head. Did I get him, what if I didn’t, now what, what do I do when I get him, was the shot ok, did I hit him too far back? Am I a hero or a zero. I waited knowing that I had to give it some time incase it wasn’t immediately fatal. I waited 30 minutes before walking back to the car to wait for my dad to arrive to help look and hopefully recover the big buck. How big was he? Was it an 8 or 10 or a 12? He was big, that I know.

Now it was dark and with my dad, I returned to spot I shot the deer, trying to remember the steps from the youtube videos and articles I watched and read. Step 1, recover the arrow…we scanned the area kicking through the tall grass trying to find the arrow likely buried. We searched for 15 minutes nothing, no blood no arrow. “Did I hit him or was that made up?” I began to question everything. Then my nephew showed up with his buddy to help search. I gave them the play by play and we spanned out, 10 minutes went by and they called out “blood over here!”. We all converged on it, 50 yards from the spot of the shot. The blood was a rich red, not dark, not yellow, no bubbles. Could be good, could be bad we determined inconclusively. We followed the trail, another spot here and spot there. I knew that it might be best to give it more time but also with the warm temperatures, I was concerned that if he did expire and we came back the next day the meat could be compromised. So I made the decision to push the team on, we got to a bean field and the spots of blood became harder to find but we were able to follow it so a small wooded island in the middle of the field. There we found a larger pool of blood and signs that he must have laid down but got up when he heard the search party coming. After that the blood became much harder to find, I recall my amazement when my nephew and his friend would find a speckle of blood, like a bead of condensation on a soda can. So small, not patches of blood I had expected to find. We followed the trail for two more hours at a snails pace, laying down a piece of toilet paper at every drop of blood we found. When we got to road and he appeared to be heading to a wooded marsh on private property. I made the decision to call it for the night. Frustrated, nervous and upset at myself for what had unfolded. The big buck was seemingly slipping from my grasp. Instead of being a hero, I was feeling like a villain for the harm I had caused the buck. I did not sleep, I replayed the scene in my head tirelessly. Did I miss, did he jump the string? The distance of the shot, the unsteadiness of my pins and shooting from a position I had never practiced. All the discipline, that I had rehearsed and committed to had gone out the window. What are you doing out there, you shouldn’t be out there, you should sell your bow and stick to the golf course I told myself. I was sick with myself and had challenged the vision of the ethical hunter I wanted to become.

As daylight finally came, I went directly to ask permission from the farmer whose land the buck had headed onto. Sitting there in front of a door of a stranger, rehearsing my lines. I was met with a friendly older woman, I explained the situation and she directed me to talk to her son who was already on the tractor working the fields. I eventually found him and got his permission to search that specific marsh where we believe he was. And headed back to work with my nephews, their friend and my dad. We combed the swamp, mosquitoes swarming us with every step. Then we found some blood on the cattails along with some tracks, the search was reenergized again. We wandered slowly cautiously, I

envisioned the scenario of coming across the buck barely alive and angry. Would he get up and charge me, would I have to finish him off as he thrashed about or would he sprint off again. We continued to search and trailed him to the swamp edge where he entered another bean field. At that point the blood was sparse and was further and further apart. He appeared heading to another parcel, which I did not have permission for. So I ran back, found the farmer again and asked him for permission to the wooded part. His father who lived on the property, did not hunt but enjoyed watching deer viewed that wooded parcel as their sanctuary. The farmer said he would go with me to do a quick scan but did not want a larger party in there. We went in and I scanned quickly found one more drop of blood and then the trail effectively went dry. I felt defeated and exhausted, I thanked the farmer for his time and had a short conversation on his position on hunting. He just never had the time and his father had not hunted so he never got into it, he was not opposed just never was introduced to it. It was an interesting and pleasant conversation. I thanked him again and shook his hand, before returning to my car. I gathered up the search party and took them to McDonalds to thank them for their efforts and recount the experience.

That first day of hunting, I will never forget, I learned more in that first day than I could possibly anticipate. The experience encompassed a full spectrum of emotions; from the calmness of the morning and watching the sunrise, to fear of darkness on the walk-in and noises around me, the adrenaline and excitement from the incredible encounter with the buck, to the confusion, frustration, anger and humbling of the recovery attempt. I had not felt that range from any other of my pursuits or interests. I truly was shook up after the shot and recovery attempt, and my appetite for hunting was challenged. I talked to a number of hunting friends about the experience and almost all at some point or another had faced a similar situation of a failed recovery and the emotional range it brings. It helped a lot to hear that and they ensured me that it would be temporary. And sure enough as Thursday came of the following week, I began to feel the woods calling me back again.

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