BAD LUCK ON A BOW BUCK | BWB 20.6
The crisp, frost-kissed air of Wisconsin greeted Kevin as he prepared for a day of bow hunting, a perfect autumn morning promising adventure. The temperature hovered in the low 30s, just cold enough to keep the deer moving. “It’s a beautiful morning,” he remarked, his breath misting in the cool air. “We’ve been wrapped up with deer movement since we got here, but nothing we want to put an arrow into yet.” The anticipation was palpable as he and his friends settled into their carefully chosen ground blind, a strategic hideout overlooking a prime feeding area. While many hunters prefer the elevated vantage point of **bow hunting tree stands**, this particular blind offered excellent concealment and a comfortable setup for an all-day sit, hoping for the right buck to stroll into view.
“We’ve seen plenty of does and yearlings, but we’re holding out for something bigger, a mature buck,” Kevin said, his eyes intently scanning the dense woods and the open food plot ahead. The excitement of the hunt was infectious, and despite the slow start to the morning, spirits remained high among the group. “Just a matter of time before the right one shows up,” he reassured himself and his companions, a familiar mantra for any patient hunter.
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As they sat in their blind, the quiet broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or distant bird call, Kevin couldn’t help but reflect on the previous day’s events. “We had a really nice shooter buck come in after we lost camera light yesterday,” he recalled, a hint of frustration still lingering in his voice. “It was agonizing to watch him walk off in the twilight. But today, I’m hoping he’ll come in a little earlier, perhaps before midday.” The anticipation grew with each passing minute as they watched the lush Antler King food plot, which was clearly thriving and showing fresh signs of recent deer activity.
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“Look at that!” Kevin suddenly exclaimed in a hushed whisper, pointing to a wary doe that had just stepped cautiously into view. The excitement was short-lived as she picked up their scent or caught a flicker of movement, spooked instantly, and dashed away into the timber. “That’s an example of how not to shoot it up,” he joked, shaking his head at the missed, albeit unwanted, opportunity. “But it’s all good; there will be another one, that’s just how it goes sometimes.”
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As the afternoon wore on, the air grew colder, and Kevin’s focus sharpened, every sense attuned to the forest. Then, out of the treeline, he spotted a truly beautiful buck, antlers wide and heavy, approaching the food plot with purpose. “Oh man, that’s a nice one!” he whispered, adrenaline instantly pumping through his veins. He slowly, deliberately steadied his bow, heart racing a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he prepared for the shot. The moment of truth arrived, but as he released the arrow, he felt a sickening, sinking feeling wash over him. “I hit freaking high!” he exclaimed, the frustration raw and evident in his voice, mixed with disbelief. “My peep sight was turned; I couldn’t see clearly, it was a rookie mistake.”
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The moment felt surreal as Kevin watched the magnificent buck bound away, disappearing back into the dense cover as quickly as it had appeared. “I’m hoping that downward angle was enough to make a difference, that it wasn’t a superficial wound,” he said, trying desperately to remain optimistic despite the crushing circumstances. “I just need a minute to collect my thoughts and process what just happened.”
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The following morning brought a mix of hope and anxiety as Kevin and his friends set out at first light to track the buck. They meticulously scoured the area, employing some of the **best tracking methods** known to hunters, moving slowly and methodically. “We had a great blood trail initially,” he reported, a glimmer of excitement returning as they found clear signs, “but then it just abruptly ended, as if he vanished into thin air.” They spread out, eyes glued to the forest floor, searching for any scuff, broken twig, or speck of crimson. When their own diligent efforts yielded little, they brought in a skilled tracking dog, a crucial asset in many post-shot recovery scenarios, hoping its keen nose could pick up what their eyes could not. “We found just a few more specs of blood further on, deep in the thicket, but nothing conclusive beyond that,” he lamented, the frustration palpable as daylight began to wane and their hopes dwindled.
Just when hope seemed lost, and the possibility of recovery faded, Kevin received a text that changed everything. “Jared just sent us pictures of that buck back on **deer hunting trail camera**!” he exclaimed, disbelief washing over him, quickly replaced by immense relief. The images, crisp and clear from a strategically placed **deer hunting trail camera**, showed the very same buck, alive and well, casually browsing in the food plot just hours after the shot. “I thought for sure he was dead, or at least severely injured, but there he was—alive and well, looking none the worse for wear!” It was a testament to the resilience of these animals and the invaluable insight provided by a well-placed trail camera in understanding deer movement and post-shot behavior.
Relief flooded through Kevin as he realized that the buck had survived the encounter, a bittersweet ending to a frustrating hunt. “We’ll make plans to get back up there and hunt again before the season’s over,” he said, determination rekindled in his voice. “Hopefully, I can get another shot at him later in the year, and this time, I’ll double-check that peep sight!”
Join Kevin on this rollercoaster of a hunt in Wisconsin as he navigates bad luck and unexpected twists:
