They Don?t All Come Easy
The Story of Sword By Jim Adam
It was just another evening for Sword as he made his way across the CRP. The pose might not have been perfect on that October evening, but the camera didn?t care, it just cranked out another picture. We called him ??..Sword
Until this day he was unknown to us, but would soon be put on the farms ?hit list?. He was spotted during muzzle loader season at 160 yards, but with no good rest to shoot from, he was allowed to walk. He was in the company of several does, and within a few seconds the troupe had walked to 210 yards and out of sight. I had no regrets then and none to this day as I think back on that cold day during the 09 muzzle loader season. We had hopes that we would see him again next year.
The evening of July 4th 2010 found me in the back of my truck with my wife Cindy, enjoying the local fireworks display. Fireworks on the fourth of July always remind me of our great nation, how much I like sweet corn and funnel cakes, and that it?s time to set up trail cams.
The cameras were put into operation the following week and the pictures soon began rolling in. Little did we know, that over the course of the next 30 days, the cameras would reveal no less than seven bucks that would make the farms ?deadly seven? hit list. They were: Horse, Curly, High Ten, Goliath, the S.O.G. Buck, Caribou, and Sword.
Sword seemed unaffected by the past winter, and in fact was larger and heavier than ever. His new rack, gorged with blood, made this solid eight point buck very impressive to say the least. Even though he would never be seen on camera again, he would soon be the topic of many pre-season discussions held that summer.
The 2010 season opener came and went without putting a deer on the ground. I almost always try to pattern the bucks and take one during the first week of the Iowa bow season, when they are lulled by the heat, unpressured, and still in their summer feeding pattern. After this first week we usually just wait for the pre-rut to begin. Over the course of the past two seasons, I was fortunate enough to take two great deer, Mr. Perfect and the Blessing Buck that I named Nine and Change. Both taken within 3 days of the season opener. After several years of this kind of success, the word gets around and soon people just expect you to do it every year. Past success can sometimes be a pain in the rear. Early success as wonderful as it is can leave a hole in your hunting life. Now that my buck is on the ground, what am I to do with the rest of the season? With this success under my belt, I?ll miss the Rut! What?s to become of my fresh bottle of Mrs. Does Pee? Why did I even buy that new grunt tube, not to mention the new rattle bag? Many of the things that make up ?hunting? are cut short or missed altogether. Dressing and undressing from the back of your truck in 30 degree weather. Coffee and breakfast at the farm. Eating apples in the stand, both because you?re hungry and it freshens your breath. Watching and finding humor in the simple yet essential daily activities of Gods small creatures that are just trying to survive. The musty sweet smell of a creek bottom on a cold morning. Watching the forest wake in the morning, starting at the tree top and working its way down, as the sun gives life to those things below. Seeing a fog slowly lift from a warm pond on a chilly windless morning, transforming into a brilliant white cloud, its bottom flat and straight as a razor, just hanging there, suspended. Its flat bottom creating a ceiling over the water, water as clear as the air is crisp. Then something almost magical happens, the calm is then stirred by an almost imperceptible breath from God that seems to come from nowhere, a small puff of air, and in a second, it?s gone. These are the things that become the price of early success. These are the things I love.
The last couple days of October find my nephew Mike and I, back in the game and on stand. Mike took a nice buck from a new stand he had hung. While giving Mike that nice buck, it also proved to be a good vantage point from which to view a large section of the farm. On the day he shot his buck, Mike reported seeing Sword moving through the Switch grass and crossing a section of the farm.
The next evening I was early getting into the stand at a location we nicknamed Bloody Run. I climbed into the stand at 4:10 p.m. and Sword showed up lonesome and all alone, not 10 minutes later!
Moving in my direction, and following a small buck trail he was checking a scrape line. Stopping occasionally to ad his signature to what must have been a long list of other suitors, if he stayed the course this trail would lead him to within 30 yards of my stand?only in a roundabout fashion.
Now, I have never claimed to be the brightest bulb in the box, but let me tell you, I made a stupid mistake. I broke one of my Cardinal rules. Never, EVER, call to a buck that is moving my way. The way I saw it, he would, if I were patient, eventually come to within thirty yards of my location, presenting me with a good broadside shot. Sounds good, right? You would think so. But no, I wanted him to waltz right across the timber to my tree......... and I wanted him now!
At the sound of my doe bleat?.he froze, and for the better part of 10 minutes he stayed that way, just staring in my direction looking for does. And you know, when he didn?t see any does, he said, ?This isn?t right?, and being the wise old buck that he was, turned and went back the way he had come. My ass was sore all the way home from my own boot! Remember, when you call to a deer, he goes on alert. So if he?s coming in on a string and relaxed, just keep it that way. Calls work, and they have their place. Just don't believe everything you see on TV.
The next morning found me in the new stand by the pear tree. As the morning waned on, it became clear that no bucks were in the area and it was time to fill my doe tag. Three does came through this new area, and much to her surprise the third one accepted my Grimm Reaper. Climbing down from my perch, to start tracking my doe, I was shocked to see Sword crossing the same piece of ground that Mike had talked about, AGAIN! Did I think this was a pattern? You bet! Now I knew which section I would hunt that evening. My shot on the doe was too far back and the tracking job turned out to be an abysmal failure, losing the trail after about 500 yards. No one pushed her; in fact we let her go for about four hours. None the less she just kept going. After hours of hunting for her she was given up to the coyotes.
With the sightings of Sword in the area, and after my run in with him, and my stupid mistake with the bleat, things started to get intense. I wanted him about as bad as any deer I?ve ever shot. Tired of feeling like I was ?up a tree? with no other options, I decided it was time to break out of the mold I had created for myself. I would switch from trees to a ground blind, and adapt to the situation whether it was right or wrong.
The Set-Up
The Double Bull T2 was set just ten yards off the lower buck trail at Bloody Run. Set back into an old brush pile, and topped with grass and leaves, it looked as if it had been there for years. The setup was downwind from the trail....... The stage was set.
Crawling inside the blind, I realized that I had failed to bring anything to sit on. On my knees in the damp earth was a little uncomfortable and I wondered how long I had to wait. Not long?.
As I shoved the last of an apple into my mouth, I caught movement to my right. It was a doe, being pushed by a buck. At this point I didn?t know which buck?just a buck. She was slightly below me and to my right, angling her way up the slope to where the trail passed not ten yards from the blind. She passed the blind without giving it a second glance. I swallowed the last of my apple and waited?..and waited?..
The seconds ticked by and turned to minutes. It might have been three, I don?t know, but it seemed like a long time. I used this time to make sure everything was as perfect inside the blind as it was on the outside. My bow was in my hand. The release was clipped to the string loop. My position was as far back in the blind as possible. I knew the yardage.
He looked the part as he stepped into view and surveyed the area, breath pouring from his nostrils as he took inventory, trying to keep track of the doe. For a brief moment he appeared to lock up. I had no shot. His tail gave a twitch, and he moved on stepping high over some deadfalls and onto the trail that would lead him to the Promised Land. It was going to happen I thought, as I drew my Drenalin. I was going to kill Sword today. Broadside at ten yards, my Little Goose Release said, yes? and the G5 Montec, led the Maxima though both shoulders. He made the decision to ?Get the hell outa Dodge ?and that he did!
Tracking
The blood trail left by this brute was heavy at first, spraying in short bursts, but then trailed off to leaking in short spurts. As the recovery went from 100 yards to 300 yards it was clear to see, I had a problem on my hands.
I couldn?t understand why this deer had not gone down yet. I called my nephew Mike, to aid in the recovery. This guy was still bleeding and leaving a good trail to follow. It wasn?t like we were only finding drops here and there. Still, after following the trail for about 400 yards, I decided to back out and come back in the morning. We were just turning to leave and he jumped up not 30 yards away and went into the timber. I told Mike that any deer that lets you get that close before running is hurt bad. I went home almost sick to my stomach, not looking forward to the sleepless night that lay ahead, and dreading the prospect of losing this magnificent animal to the coyotes that I knew would be sniffing around.
The Recovery
I slept four hours and that was the best I could do. Pulling on my clothes at two o?clock in the morning, I busied myself with whatever I could until Mike and I met at the farm for the recovery, which I hoped would go well.
Knowing how deer hide when they are wounded, I decided to forgo my usual camo garb and dress in my chaps and old work coat. I did take my bow along just in case?.and Mike brought along his camera to take pics of the trophy.
We picked up the trail at the place where we last saw the deer, and found him piled up not thirty yard inside the timber. Mike started snapping pictures almost right away and wanted a shot of me walking up to the deer. He reminded me to knock an arrow?. just in case. Thank you, Mike.
He took this picture of me walking up to the deer.
And this picture as the deer got up!! He is just under the green leaves of the tree. He is turning to the left.
A quick thirty yard shot and he stopped, staggered, and laid down.
The final shot at 20 yards.
He got up went about 20 yards, then went to that Promised Land we talked about earlier. I watch
The Doe?remember the doe I shot?
Sword being mortally wounded, bedded down for the night not 40 yards from that doe!!!!She kept the coyotes busy and my trophy safe! She did not go to waste. She became nature?s food and she helped in the recovery of? Sword.
There is no worse feeling than wounding an animal, but it happens. And if you hunt long enough it will happen to you too. This year was a rough one for me in that respect. I simply hate that gut wrenching feeling I get when this happens. I just get all knotted up inside.
As I should?.
Spit
The Story of Sword By Jim Adam
It was just another evening for Sword as he made his way across the CRP. The pose might not have been perfect on that October evening, but the camera didn?t care, it just cranked out another picture. We called him ??..Sword
Until this day he was unknown to us, but would soon be put on the farms ?hit list?. He was spotted during muzzle loader season at 160 yards, but with no good rest to shoot from, he was allowed to walk. He was in the company of several does, and within a few seconds the troupe had walked to 210 yards and out of sight. I had no regrets then and none to this day as I think back on that cold day during the 09 muzzle loader season. We had hopes that we would see him again next year.
The evening of July 4th 2010 found me in the back of my truck with my wife Cindy, enjoying the local fireworks display. Fireworks on the fourth of July always remind me of our great nation, how much I like sweet corn and funnel cakes, and that it?s time to set up trail cams.
The cameras were put into operation the following week and the pictures soon began rolling in. Little did we know, that over the course of the next 30 days, the cameras would reveal no less than seven bucks that would make the farms ?deadly seven? hit list. They were: Horse, Curly, High Ten, Goliath, the S.O.G. Buck, Caribou, and Sword.
Sword seemed unaffected by the past winter, and in fact was larger and heavier than ever. His new rack, gorged with blood, made this solid eight point buck very impressive to say the least. Even though he would never be seen on camera again, he would soon be the topic of many pre-season discussions held that summer.
The 2010 season opener came and went without putting a deer on the ground. I almost always try to pattern the bucks and take one during the first week of the Iowa bow season, when they are lulled by the heat, unpressured, and still in their summer feeding pattern. After this first week we usually just wait for the pre-rut to begin. Over the course of the past two seasons, I was fortunate enough to take two great deer, Mr. Perfect and the Blessing Buck that I named Nine and Change. Both taken within 3 days of the season opener. After several years of this kind of success, the word gets around and soon people just expect you to do it every year. Past success can sometimes be a pain in the rear. Early success as wonderful as it is can leave a hole in your hunting life. Now that my buck is on the ground, what am I to do with the rest of the season? With this success under my belt, I?ll miss the Rut! What?s to become of my fresh bottle of Mrs. Does Pee? Why did I even buy that new grunt tube, not to mention the new rattle bag? Many of the things that make up ?hunting? are cut short or missed altogether. Dressing and undressing from the back of your truck in 30 degree weather. Coffee and breakfast at the farm. Eating apples in the stand, both because you?re hungry and it freshens your breath. Watching and finding humor in the simple yet essential daily activities of Gods small creatures that are just trying to survive. The musty sweet smell of a creek bottom on a cold morning. Watching the forest wake in the morning, starting at the tree top and working its way down, as the sun gives life to those things below. Seeing a fog slowly lift from a warm pond on a chilly windless morning, transforming into a brilliant white cloud, its bottom flat and straight as a razor, just hanging there, suspended. Its flat bottom creating a ceiling over the water, water as clear as the air is crisp. Then something almost magical happens, the calm is then stirred by an almost imperceptible breath from God that seems to come from nowhere, a small puff of air, and in a second, it?s gone. These are the things that become the price of early success. These are the things I love.
The last couple days of October find my nephew Mike and I, back in the game and on stand. Mike took a nice buck from a new stand he had hung. While giving Mike that nice buck, it also proved to be a good vantage point from which to view a large section of the farm. On the day he shot his buck, Mike reported seeing Sword moving through the Switch grass and crossing a section of the farm.
The next evening I was early getting into the stand at a location we nicknamed Bloody Run. I climbed into the stand at 4:10 p.m. and Sword showed up lonesome and all alone, not 10 minutes later!
Moving in my direction, and following a small buck trail he was checking a scrape line. Stopping occasionally to ad his signature to what must have been a long list of other suitors, if he stayed the course this trail would lead him to within 30 yards of my stand?only in a roundabout fashion.
Now, I have never claimed to be the brightest bulb in the box, but let me tell you, I made a stupid mistake. I broke one of my Cardinal rules. Never, EVER, call to a buck that is moving my way. The way I saw it, he would, if I were patient, eventually come to within thirty yards of my location, presenting me with a good broadside shot. Sounds good, right? You would think so. But no, I wanted him to waltz right across the timber to my tree......... and I wanted him now!
At the sound of my doe bleat?.he froze, and for the better part of 10 minutes he stayed that way, just staring in my direction looking for does. And you know, when he didn?t see any does, he said, ?This isn?t right?, and being the wise old buck that he was, turned and went back the way he had come. My ass was sore all the way home from my own boot! Remember, when you call to a deer, he goes on alert. So if he?s coming in on a string and relaxed, just keep it that way. Calls work, and they have their place. Just don't believe everything you see on TV.
The next morning found me in the new stand by the pear tree. As the morning waned on, it became clear that no bucks were in the area and it was time to fill my doe tag. Three does came through this new area, and much to her surprise the third one accepted my Grimm Reaper. Climbing down from my perch, to start tracking my doe, I was shocked to see Sword crossing the same piece of ground that Mike had talked about, AGAIN! Did I think this was a pattern? You bet! Now I knew which section I would hunt that evening. My shot on the doe was too far back and the tracking job turned out to be an abysmal failure, losing the trail after about 500 yards. No one pushed her; in fact we let her go for about four hours. None the less she just kept going. After hours of hunting for her she was given up to the coyotes.
With the sightings of Sword in the area, and after my run in with him, and my stupid mistake with the bleat, things started to get intense. I wanted him about as bad as any deer I?ve ever shot. Tired of feeling like I was ?up a tree? with no other options, I decided it was time to break out of the mold I had created for myself. I would switch from trees to a ground blind, and adapt to the situation whether it was right or wrong.
The Set-Up
The Double Bull T2 was set just ten yards off the lower buck trail at Bloody Run. Set back into an old brush pile, and topped with grass and leaves, it looked as if it had been there for years. The setup was downwind from the trail....... The stage was set.
Crawling inside the blind, I realized that I had failed to bring anything to sit on. On my knees in the damp earth was a little uncomfortable and I wondered how long I had to wait. Not long?.
As I shoved the last of an apple into my mouth, I caught movement to my right. It was a doe, being pushed by a buck. At this point I didn?t know which buck?just a buck. She was slightly below me and to my right, angling her way up the slope to where the trail passed not ten yards from the blind. She passed the blind without giving it a second glance. I swallowed the last of my apple and waited?..and waited?..
The seconds ticked by and turned to minutes. It might have been three, I don?t know, but it seemed like a long time. I used this time to make sure everything was as perfect inside the blind as it was on the outside. My bow was in my hand. The release was clipped to the string loop. My position was as far back in the blind as possible. I knew the yardage.
He looked the part as he stepped into view and surveyed the area, breath pouring from his nostrils as he took inventory, trying to keep track of the doe. For a brief moment he appeared to lock up. I had no shot. His tail gave a twitch, and he moved on stepping high over some deadfalls and onto the trail that would lead him to the Promised Land. It was going to happen I thought, as I drew my Drenalin. I was going to kill Sword today. Broadside at ten yards, my Little Goose Release said, yes? and the G5 Montec, led the Maxima though both shoulders. He made the decision to ?Get the hell outa Dodge ?and that he did!
Tracking
The blood trail left by this brute was heavy at first, spraying in short bursts, but then trailed off to leaking in short spurts. As the recovery went from 100 yards to 300 yards it was clear to see, I had a problem on my hands.
I couldn?t understand why this deer had not gone down yet. I called my nephew Mike, to aid in the recovery. This guy was still bleeding and leaving a good trail to follow. It wasn?t like we were only finding drops here and there. Still, after following the trail for about 400 yards, I decided to back out and come back in the morning. We were just turning to leave and he jumped up not 30 yards away and went into the timber. I told Mike that any deer that lets you get that close before running is hurt bad. I went home almost sick to my stomach, not looking forward to the sleepless night that lay ahead, and dreading the prospect of losing this magnificent animal to the coyotes that I knew would be sniffing around.
The Recovery
I slept four hours and that was the best I could do. Pulling on my clothes at two o?clock in the morning, I busied myself with whatever I could until Mike and I met at the farm for the recovery, which I hoped would go well.
Knowing how deer hide when they are wounded, I decided to forgo my usual camo garb and dress in my chaps and old work coat. I did take my bow along just in case?.and Mike brought along his camera to take pics of the trophy.
We picked up the trail at the place where we last saw the deer, and found him piled up not thirty yard inside the timber. Mike started snapping pictures almost right away and wanted a shot of me walking up to the deer. He reminded me to knock an arrow?. just in case. Thank you, Mike.
He took this picture of me walking up to the deer.
And this picture as the deer got up!! He is just under the green leaves of the tree. He is turning to the left.
A quick thirty yard shot and he stopped, staggered, and laid down.
The final shot at 20 yards.
He got up went about 20 yards, then went to that Promised Land we talked about earlier. I watch
The Doe?remember the doe I shot?
Sword being mortally wounded, bedded down for the night not 40 yards from that doe!!!!She kept the coyotes busy and my trophy safe! She did not go to waste. She became nature?s food and she helped in the recovery of? Sword.
There is no worse feeling than wounding an animal, but it happens. And if you hunt long enough it will happen to you too. This year was a rough one for me in that respect. I simply hate that gut wrenching feeling I get when this happens. I just get all knotted up inside.
As I should?.
Spit
