The second last day we had to turn back. Freezing rain and ice pellets turned the roads into curling rinks. Not worth the risk.
Kind of a good thing that, as I got an opportunity to check my bow again. I had taken a fall the previous day, and always wonder if that might effect it's performance. Within half an hour, it was back to bang on and ready for the next...
As we rolled out on what had to be my final day (scheduled brain scans must take precedence!) I attempted to bolster my courage, telling myself that even if we did not connect, at least I was getting out where I belong and spending quality time with a life long hunting partner. That morning we decided to try a different area in Region 4. Hadn't been back there in a few years, but what the hell, Plan A was obviously not being overly accommodating, so why not...
We slipped from the truck as the silver grey of dawn slowly approached. It had first rained a little, then topped that with a gentle frosting of snow. This meant that the snow underfoot was no longer crunchy, and that as a consequence one could stalk quietly with confidence. And in
Slow Mode, away we went to explore this old stomping ground.
A couple hours in with but little in the way of sign and no encounters, I started to unconsciously let my guard down. Making just a little more noise than I should, I suddenly jumped two whitetails. As they trotted up the hill in front of them, I immediately recognized the location. I knew that if they followed the course they were on, they would most likely be taking an escape route on the other side of that hill I could perhaps beat them to. So I set off quickly with that thought in mind. Hadn't gone 50 yards when a young dry doe suddenly materialized in the timber - at 35 yards. Problem was she was butt on to me, presenting no possible shot. Nonplussed I raised the bow and waited.
Make Your Break. Something inside me suggested when she did so, she would turn to the right. So when she did just that, my bow was already there waiting. The Luminok tipped
Work of Art from Big John was on it's way. Through the scope I watched it it disappeared just where it should - just behind the last rib angled well forward.
As I watched, the doe ran less than 40 yards and tumbled. Down. For the count.
Still worked the trail as if I hadn't seen that. The Luminok was recognizable instantly from 30 yards out, the arrow buried 6 inches into the forest floor. Bright red lung blood covered it from stem to stern.
Easy path to follow, then time for a quick photo and cleaning:
The arrow's path took both lungs mid-center, exiting through the offside shoulder. No wonder she did not go far!
We managed to get the truck somewhat close, so the haul out was downhill and relatively easy.
Then, lunch and a chat. In BC you may only take a doe from singular Regions. As we had yet to see a buck, we decided it was perhaps in our best interest to do just that. So, in short order we were working our way towards another ranch / woodlot in the Rock Creek area (Region 8).
Along the way we were greeted by low lying fog in several locations, making it feel like we were transversing close to the shore of a huge lake:
Also ran across a couple mulie does who were totally uninterested in our presence:
Arriving at our destination a tad early, we halted to take in the beauty of the place, and contemplate just what the evening might bring...
Continued...