Why I bow hunt: Proximity, preciseness a big part of the charm

Well before daylight this morning, I had climbed into my ladder stand.

I was 15 feet off the ground and privy to the awakening of a new day, deep in the woods. I was situated right in the middle of some oaks that had been dropping acorns for the past couple weeks.

The vast majority of wildlife eats acorns and, in a previous scouting trip, it was easy to read their signs. The forest floor was rooted, scratched and pawed all around the oaks. This was a very good spot to be bow hunting, especially during the early part of the season. My compound bow was on its hanger within easy reach should it be needed when daylight gave me a peek at the tight area I was hunting. When hunting with a rifle, one is looking for animals not only close by, but sometimes several hundred yards away.

Bow hunting is different.

My maximum shooting range in this thick cover was 25 yards, if I could see a bit farther through small openings in the woods.

The sounds that one hears in the pre-dawn darkness are amazing.

To my way of thinking, a Mozart symphony is noise compared to the sounds of the natural world coming to life. I heard the faint whisper of the wings of an owl that, with its uncanny ability to fly through the woods at night in total darkness, darted past me not 5 yards in front of my face. Next came a scurrying in the leaves accompanied by an occasional pause and scratching sound; a couple of raccoons enjoying an early-morning snack of acorns before heading to their den tree.

On the other side of a nearby slough, a mature male coyote said goodbye to darkness and heralded the coming day with a deep howl that always causes me to pause.

There is something very primal about the howl of a coyote; something is always stirred in the core of my being when I hear a big male coyote sound off close by. The sound of a female coyote doesn’t affect me this way as it’s more high pitched and less menacing. A mature male coyote’s howl is telling the world who the boss dog really is.

Daylight came ever so slowly.

First the eastern horizon began to lighten with a soft, distant glow as though someone on the edge of the woods was holding a piece of cloth over a very bright light and then, within a matter of minutes, the day had dawned. For the first time in my 45 minute sit, I could actually make out forms on the ground below me.

The air chilled a few degrees at sunup as it always does. I’ve had a meteorologist buddy try to explain this phenomenon to me, but I still can’t wrap my mind around why the temperature actually drops when the sun comes up.

Ten yards behind me, I hear the faintest of sound in the leaves and then, an animal crunching an acorn.

A couple whitetail does had managed to walk within feet of my location without me seeing or hearing them. Isn’t this often the case when bow hunting? Even in the thickest of cover, deer seem to appear out of nowhere. Hogs and many animals can often be heard coming from a great distance, but deer are masters at quietness; their lives depends upon being inconspicuous.

My trail camera, situated on a nearby tree, had captured the image of a very nice buck the day before and I decided to watch the does in hopes of getting a shot at a buck.

The rut was in its early stages and bucks were on the move.

Suddenly, the larger doe threw her head high and gazed intently toward her back trail. Using my Zeiss binoculars, I peered through the brush and in a very small opening; I spotted the biggest male bobcat I’ve seen in more than 50 years. With its long legs and high-pointed ears, a 40-pound bobcat looks huge in the woods. By this time, both the does were snorting and stamping their feet. They were nervous and letting the world know that danger was near.

Its sights such as this that make hunting with a bow so exciting. Had I been in a rifle stand 100 yards away, I would have never seen the big cat.

The doe simply vanished and reappeared in a few minutes.

Deer are like ghosts, here one minute and gone the next. I began thinking how good some fresh venison steak would taste and brought my bow up into shooting position. That big doe was beginning to tempt me. Earlier, I had an easy broadside shot at her at 22 yards. If she came into a clearing, I was making plans to loose my arrow. Enter Mr. Coyote, possibly the same one I heard just before daylight. The coyote was a big male and he was slinking his way through the woods, making not a sound. Both the deer were instantly aware of the canine’s presence, even though he was silently approaching a good 60 yards away through the brush, downwind.

I could see him well from my perch up in the tree, but there is no way the deer could have spotted him in the heavy cover.

By now, the day was well under way and I had duties back at home to attend .

I climbed down from my stand and, as stealthily as possible, I made my way out of the woods. I am sure I must have sounded like a bull elephant to the vast array of animals that call those woods home. I have plans to be back in that same little patch of woods in the same stand tomorrow morning.

Again, I will reap the benefits of hunting with a bow.

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