I had a new hunting spot that day. A sliver of hardwoods positioned between two-large sections of open field. There were several well-worn deer paths leading from the northern section of the field to the southern – all of them passing through this narrow, wooded area. Deer were moving through here to get from one side of the field to the other. Most likely looking for food during the harsh winter months.
I had found a bottleneck.
With nothing but open-field to my back, I positioned myself on the southern border of the sliver covering the hardwoods and northern-most section of the field. Cover was sparse with the exception of an aspen that must have fallen shortly before the first snow. It was a large tree with a massive trunk capped by a tangle of barren branches. The branches formed a nest of sorts. A cove. I had seen this cove on my journey in – a large gray mass on the edge of the hardwoods. I immediately recognized its possibilities.
There was only one way in and I had to crawl to enter it. Once inside, I discovered a shallow ravine in front of me, the remains of the aspen lying on its slope. The opposite ridge was approximately 20 yards away. Beyond that – the northern field. The ravine narrowed and climbed into the hardwoods to my right until it disappeared completely at the sliver’s tip.
Because the majority of the cover was behind me I had multiple shooting lanes overlooking three potential crossing points: the ravine floor to my left, the opposite ridge to my front, and the hardwoods to my right. I had found the perfect ground blind!
Satisfied, I quietly slid off my daypack, setup my swivel stool to accommodate my shooting lanes, and took a seat. An alert but comfortable state washed over me. I set my longbow in my lap, slid an arrow from the hood of my bow quiver, knocked it, and waited.
An hour passed. As I began to settle, the woods began to stir. Black squirrels chattered. A woodpecker worked on a gnarly-looking birch. Chickadees danced so close I could grab them. As my breath slowed to subtle deliberation, reflection overtook me. Even after months of preparation, I couldn’t believe I was here and with a longbow of all things!
I began shooting in May (2009) with a takedown recurve. I enjoyed that bow, but the simplicity and elegance of the longbow intrigued me from the very beginning. I was drawn to them. My friends each owned one and I had every intention of picking one up once I felt proficient enough as an archer.
Months passed and I was rapidly improving. By September I was starting to shoot well and felt ready to make the jump. However, for the first time in my life I was preparing for hunting season and felt that a single month wasn’t enough time to adjust to a new bow. Harvesting a deer seemed impossible enough when considering that I was hunting on unfamiliar land with no hunting experience. I promised myself that I would not make the switch until after deer season.
December rolled in and after months of unsuccessful hunting, temptation got the better of me. I sold some things and began shopping for a bow. With only $250 to work with I was losing hope fast.
Reluctantly, I turned to ebay. After days of punching “longbow” into the search box, I finally stumbled upon several Bama Hunter models and became immediately curious. They were marked “Christmas Special, $229 with Free Shipping”. Feeling skeptical, I decided to investigate www.bamabows.com for further details. What I found surprised me!
The Hunter model was everything I could ask for: an American made longbow with custom options and a lifetime guarantee. An unbelievable package! After watching their demonstration video and emailing Nate, I was convinced.
Three days later I had my very own Bama Hunter – a 65” Cocobola model with a walnut core and padauk accents. It was light, beautiful, and felt perfect in my hands. Despite all of my reasoning, I had to shoot it.
For the next few days I couldn’t put it down. It tuned up easily and was the smoothest drawing bow I had ever shot. After only one week’s worth of practice, I was shooting tighter groups than I ever had with my recurve. I decided to hunt with it. There was mojo in this bow and I could feel it.
So there I was, sitting in the perfect ground blind, with my secret weapon.
And the deer came.
I suddenly caught movement – four deer crossing the northern field and appearing on the opposite ridge. My heart began to pound. They were moving laterally along the ridgeline and would enter the hardwoods within moments. As quietly as possible, I eased the stool out from under me and lowered my right knee to the snow.
They continued on, stopping only after they reached the safety of their destination. I shifted to my right to find the appropriate shooting lane. It was then that I was able to get a good look at them. Four plump does. One of them (a little bit rounder than the others) strayed from the group and turned broadside. She was now on my far right and facing the field behind me. Thankfully, the trunk of the aspen was now completely concealing me. I would have to rise above it and increase my cant to approximately 30 degrees to make the shot.
I picked a spot behind her right shoulder, lifted my knee enough for my bow arm to clear the trunk, and began to draw.
A flash of brown on the ridge interrupted me. I turned my head just enough to view the disturbance. My eyes widened as I began to count; five deer, ten deer, twelve, fifteen, twenty deer! I had never seen so many! They moved as a single unit, the majority of them using the same path as the initial four.
I crouched into cover as low as I could. My legs began to burn.
I drew a deep, jagged breath in an attempt to settle my nerves. They didn’t see me. They didn’t scent me. They couldn’t hear me. But, with so many deer, my window of opportunity would close quickly. I would have to act or risk freezing up.
With no antlers present, I stuck to my plan and would take the original doe. She was unphased by the arrival of the other deer and was still broadside at approximately 15 yards. She was scraping at the snow and her head was down. I picked a spot just above the crease in her shoulder and focused on it.
It was now or never. I cleared my mind and my body took over. I rose, raised my bow, drew to anchor, and released.
I’ll never forget how it felt: the tension leaving my back, the string sliding from the tip of my glove and whipping passed my face, the vibration of my bow arm as the arrow left the rest, and the feeling of relief as the knock cleared my bow. Perfect. It all felt perfect.
The arrow whistled softly through the air and found its mark with a dull “thump” – the knock disappearing through her right flank and reappearing out her left – exactly where I had intended it to go. She pitched hard and to the left, disappearing further into the hardwoods. The majority of the herd didn’t seem to notice.
I crouched back behind the log and knocked another arrow. A larger doe (one of the new arrivals) caught my movement and stared at me. I lowered my eyes a bit and froze. She walked forward, craning her head to get a better glimpse at me. She was now approximately twelve yards away on the opposite ridge. Having a second unfilled tag, I decided to take her.
Moments went by. Her sense of danger fleeting, she put her head down and quartered away. I reacted.
THWACK! My arrow hit her high and directly on her right shoulder! She had been startled by my movement and quartered directly into my shot. I cussed in disbelief.
She bucked to her left, slipped on the edge of the ravine, and fell hard to her opposite shoulder. The arrow jutting out of her side wobbled from the impact like a diving board. She was back up in a flash and in full bound before I could react, crashing into the trunks of several small trees on her way out. Startled by her exit, the herd finally dispersed. I froze in amazement as I watched a wave of dirty, white tails cross the northern field and disappear.
With my eyes still fixed on the retreating deer, I located my hunting stool with a shaky right hand and collapsed into it with a puff of white snow. My heart pounded steadily in my chest. My hands continued to shake. I couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the excitement. I phoned my Dad to wait out the ruckus and help me settle down.
I recalled the events through shaky breaths, leaving nothing undisclosed. He was new to traditional bowhunting himself and I could tell he was as excited as I was. We decided that I should wait awhile to avoid pushing either doe further than needed.
Twenty grueling minutes passed and I began to shiver. It was time. I left my blind, made the short walk to the hardwoods and began looking for blood.
It wasn’t long before I located it and my first arrow. The aluminum 2117 had bent as it passed through the doe’s vitals and was thickly coated in red. The fletching was soaked. Powdery red sprinkles and clumps of matted fur surrounded it. I marked the spot with some metallic tape and prayed that she passed quickly. If the damaged arrow was any indication, she couldn’t have gone far.
I continued on. The blood became thicker and more frequent. Her tracks became ski-like trenches leading to the edge of the hardwoods. I moved into the clearing and scanned the field. There she was, in a thicket to my right. She had doubled back and collapsed approximately 60 feet from where the arrow struck.
Her eyes were wide and glassed. Her beautiful brown coat gleamed in the morning sun. Blood trickled from a quarter-sized wound to the right of her shoulder, matting her fur, and pooling in the snow below. I approached her slowly looking for signs of life. She was still. I poked her gently with the tip of my bow to confirm. She didn’t move. I was amazed at how peaceful she looked.
I crouched right there next to her in the snow and stroked the top of her head. For the first time I felt the weight of what I had done creep up on me. Having never shot at or killed a creature as large as a deer before, I shouldered the grief with a heavy heart and was thanked God for it. A man should feel remorse whenever he takes a life.
Grief quickly gave way to happiness. Tragedy became accomplishment. My arrow – the first one I had ever loosed at live game – had indeed passed through both lungs, killing her quickly. My heart filled with pride. I tagged my deer and called Dad for the second time.
“Deer down” I said with a laugh. “Now I’ve got to find the other one.”
I tracked her for hours. She shook my arrow loose and broke it in half several feet from where she was shot. Aside from a few drops on my arrow and a few strands of fur there wasn’t any blood. I kicked her up multiple times that day but all with the same results. She was limping slightly but there was no blood to be found, not even in her bedding areas. After eight hours in the snow it was getting dark and I was freezing. As sick as I felt about the whole situation, I had to let her go. On my way out (my first doe in tow) I saw her running with the same two deer she had been traveling with earlier that day. She stopped, looked at me, and bounded away. My stomach twisted, but I knew she’d be okay.
Later that evening I shared the experiences of the day with a good friend of mine over McDonald’s hamburgers and a cold beer. As we hung my kill from the beams of his garage, I couldn’t help but replay the hunt over and over in my head. I had experienced both the success and failure of bowhunting in a single hunt and learned volumes from each. Most importantly, I learned to trust my abilities as an archer and my instincts as a hunter. All with my new longbow.
Since I first held my Hunter it felt like an extension of my arm. It made me feel like a better archer and I truly believe it was that confidence that gave me the edge I needed to make that shot. I had no time to think when I shot those does – mere seconds to pick my targets and make those shots. It was instantaneous and seemed effortless. I didn't think a bow existed that would fit me so well or shoot so smoothly.
The Bama Hunter is truly a gift to the traditional bowhunting community. Providing a longbow with the quality of the Hunter at the price offered is nothing less than remarkable. My longbow helped to make my first harvest special and I’ll never forget it. I am confident that whenever I draw on live game a Bama will be launching the arrow.
