The thrill of the holiday hunt
On Friday, Nov. 29, I bagged my best one ever. Here’s the story:
I got up early, ate a heavy breakfast, dressed warmly and prepared for the hunt. I went out to my usual hunt club — Berry’s. I parked my truck, took my weapon, and began to stalk. I saw a few grazing in a distant field. Some were herded together, but there were a few big ones by themselves.
I crept closer. I made sure that I stayed downwind. And there it was! The one I’d been waiting for all season. It was 600 points easy. Possibly 800. Clearly one that would be mounted for the house.
I took my time, moving closer and closer. Checking the wind, taking advantage of cover, being sure not to step on a dry branch on the ground.
It still didn’t know that I was there. My mouth was dry, my palms sweaty as I readied my weapon. I made my move! I swiftly closed. It seemed startled, frozen in fear — almost as if planted in the ground.
I took advantage and grabbed it with my left and brought my weapon up with my right. Things seemed like they were in slow motion, but I’m sure it only lasted seconds. I took it down! It was over. Its sap-like blood, still on my hands, I loaded it into my truck with great satisfaction. This is what it’s all about!
— John Bow,