Bowhunting Articles

  I’ve seen it a hundred times. You know you're ready. You know what you're expecting to see. You know you're cool, assured, and at peak performance. Then that twelve point steps out leisurely into your clearing, smoothly turns his right front quarter in line with your fifteen yard pin and all heck breaks loose underneath your skin. Eyes glass, chest starts heaving, tremors vibrate down your arms, and you think something just turned the sun to a super nova.

I thought I was super cool my first sighting. She was beautiful, buckwheat colored with black around her eyes. I stared incredulously. My heart was beating so hard against my chest that my jacket was jumping. Then I started getting dizzy. My vision blurred. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Then I realized I was forgetting to breathe. She was so close, but no doe permit.

I strolled back into camp ready to surprise Buck, my husband, with my tale of prime skill. I had accomplished observing the elusive whitetail in it’s own habitat. I had witnessed this deer’s movements, camouflaged from view and without giving away any sign of my presence.

Buck spied me coming in. My first words were, "I did it Buck." "I saw this doe and I stayed perfectly still. I didn’t move at all. Just like you taught me." Buck burst out laughing. "Penny, I was watch’n your stand. You were shaking so bad the tree was blurry."

Buck has a passion for hunting. I’ve never seen a person with more enthusiasm. Between he and his buddies and the twenty-nine years the both of us have been stalking and sitting, I expect we’ve seen more situations than most. Some I remember better than others.

We were on a moose hunt once. Three of us were in a canoe. I had the camera. Buck’s friend, Skinner, had his heart set on a trophy bull. All the way out Skinner, kept talking about how ready he was for this hunt. Nothing was going to keep him from scoring big this time. Buck was just as determined. In fact, Buck was more ready. He was heart set on calling in a big one and just about nothing was going to keep him from getting Skinner the biggest bull he could find.

We were settled into a shallow area in thick, tall reeds and grass. Beyond us was a deeply thicketed area of forest that covered hundreds of miles of Canadian wilderness. Buck dug our one paddle into the soft mud, looped the canoe rope around it and we rocked gently in the shallows. I positioned myself, low, in the bottom of the canoe and balanced the camera across my knees.

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Buck called… The rustling got louder. Skinner steadied himself and positioned his bow. I got the movie camera up. Skinner’s adrenaline started to race, he turned toward me from the front of the canoe, and whispered, "Whatever you do, Pen, make sure you get all of this on film." "You got it." I said.

Buck called… We could hear thrashing deep in the trees. My camera went on and I filmed. The thrashing got louder. Buck called… I filmed. Skinner started to sweat. Buck called… The thrashing turned to crashing. Buck called… The canoe started to sway in the water. Skinner’s body started to shake. I filmed. We couldn’t see over the reeds and grass but it was evident that there was something very big out there and it was coming our way. Then there was a horrendous roar. Skinner dropped his bow and turned on Buck. "He’s really worked up, Buck." Skinner gasped. "Maybe we should let him simmer down some." Buck shook his head. "Nah," he answered, "He’s just showing off."

Buck called… I filmed. The air shattered with screaming animal sounds like a herd of elephants. Skinner leaped from the front of the canoe at Buck and grabbed him by the neck. "You call one more time and I’m going to shoot YOU." He thundered.

Buck grabbed at the paddle to steady himself, the canoe rocked wildly, the rope pulled away from the paddle, we drifted leaving the paddle behind and all the commotion attracted the Bull Moose to our exact position.

I filmed. Buck yelled at Skinner. "Are you crazy!" But before Skinner could scream a reply, Buck’s eyes widened with astonishment. He pointed over Skinner’s shoulder and sputtered. "Loooook!"

I could just barely see the trees above the reeds in my viewfinder. As the three of us focused on the direction of the crashing sounds we could see six inch birch trees falling left and right as the moose advanced on us. I thought I saw the tips of antlers once, but I could have been mistaken because the canoe lurched and I swung my camera left to where Skinner was supposed to be. He was bent over the front of the canoe. I never knew a man could paddle so fast with his bare hands. Buck had jumped out and was pushing the canoe from behind like a man on fire. "Drop that stupid camera." He hollered, "Can’t you see we’re go’n to be killed!"

Sixty seconds later we were in deep open water again. I’m still not sure how, but we left behind one very angry Moose. He was a good swimmer but no match for two determined hunters…. And their cameraman