As the saying goes, "Can't eat horns." After searching for that buck for three hours yesterday my plan was to hunt the morning in the same stand. I wanted to give it one last look for a body. If I had hit that buck and could locate him the meat would still be good. It was a long shot.
I got in the stand around 7:00 am. No wind. No rain. Temps in the mid-forties. It was more like hunting October than late December. Around 8:30 I saw a deer moving my way. It moved like a buck. When I put the scope on it I saw it was a large single doe. At 30 yards directly below me I bleated it stopped with the hammer already back. She dropped with the shot.
As I walked up on the deer I marveled at how big she was. Then I saw the faint medallions on "her" head. She was a he. The buck had already shed his antlers. Was this the same buck I shot at yesterday? Had I shot his rack off? I don't think so. Yesterday's buck was wary and I think bigger. Still, I was incredibly thankful to have more meat and a quick kill shot.
After field dressing the deer and dragging it to the truck I made one last attempt at finding the buck. I crisscrossed the ridge once more looking for a white belly. Nothing. I think I must've rushed the shot and shot over his back. There's no way of being 100% sure but I think I missed that deer clean. I can live with that.
The count so far:
1. Wounded a nice buck the day before Thanksgiving. Found a piece of jaw bone. Never found the deer. Must've shot tree branch.
2. Shot an eight point the day after Thanksgiving. Dropped him.
3. Shot a button buck thinking it was a doe. Dropped him.
4. Missed a good buck with the muzzleloader.
5. Shot a good size buck thinking it was a doe. Dropped them.
P.S.
I found my car keys in the mud next to the woodpile. Three days left in 2023 deer season.
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