Petersen’s Bowhunting – September 2019

(Wang) #1

http://www.bowhuntingmag.com


tell he’s having a tough time seeing
into the fading light of the timber.
Trust your survival instincts and
you’ll live. You’re mating instincts will
betray you.
The bull is moving closer and
closer as he tries to make out any
semblance of the beautiful creature
causing his heart to stir. At 55 yards,
though, he realizes something isn’t
quite right and makes a small course
correction to get downwind of the
intriguing sounds.
A fatal mistake: The bull offers me
a perfect broadside shot that I’m not
willing to pass up. I watch my arrow
fly laser-like through the air and sink
almost up to the vanes in his side.
The old boy turns and walks away,
but he doesn’t react to the impact
itself. All he knows is that the sick
feeling he has came from where the
“cow” called to him, and he doesn’t
want anything more to do with her.
I lay my bow down in the pine
needles and watch the bull walk
away. The sunlight is fading and,
with it, his life. My fists pump into
the air, the result of released ela-
tion over something long sought
for and finally obtained. The years,
the miles, the sore muscles, the time


spent away from my family — all
the costs recede from view as all of
the rewards come into focus.

DoublinÕ Down
I turn to see if Joe is doing cart-
wheels yet. His binoculars are to
his eyes, but he isn’t looking in the
direction of my elk. I snap up my
binos; fur and antlers immediately
meet my gaze as I spot the other bull
we saw while glassing earlier.
I keep my eyes pinned to the bi-
nos, certain that the wheels of mo-
tion have already begun to turn.
Sure enough, an arrow soon goes
whistling by high above my shoul-
der. The effects of the arrow’s im-
pact are breathtaking: The bull takes
three steps and is uprooted, his legs
extended in the air like the tree limbs
from some creepy fairy tale.
Joe approaches me and, at first, no
words are spoken. We’re both tem-
porarily paralyzed by what has just
happened.
“ ‘Two elk to carry out,’ you said,”
Joe finally jokes.
“Uh, yeah ... ‘Two elk to carry
out,’ ” I repeat, wide-eyed as it
sinks in how much work we’ve just
created for ourselves.

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