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by Ron Rohrbaugh Although simply a state of mind, confidence is a key ingredient in our ability to be successful in almost every aspect of life. When our confidence goes south, so does our success. The great "philosopher" and baseball player Yogi Berra once said, "Baseball is 90 percent mental and the other half is physical." The same could be said for instinctive shooting and, with a little bit of luck thrown in, hunting as well. When shooting instinctively, you must have confidence in your ability to pick a spot and hit it. Similarly, when stand hunting or slipping quetly through an oak flat, you must have complete confidence that your buck of a lifetime is behind the next tree. Confidence is what gives us our edge. Careful preparation is key to confidence, so I had received permission to hunt two new properties and had done my homework, scouting every chance I got. In addition, I had the first two weeks of November off from work. This was going to be my year to take a good buck--or maybe even two.! Little did I know that by the fourth week of the New York bow season, my edge would be gone... I'm not superstitious, but perhaps I should have taken it as a bad omen when the October 15 opener dawned. Gales tipped the anemometer at more than 40 miles per hour. I typically take the first day off from work to hunt, but with the poor weather conditions, I chose to bag it and head to the office. At around 2 p.m., the winds calmed somewhat and I decided to sneak out and give it a try. Deer movement that afternoon turned out to be pretty lousy, as expected, and after three hours of swaying back and forth 15 feet up in an aspen tree, I was ready for a motion sickness bag. Oh well, things will have to improve, I thought to myself. And improve they did--kind of. The next day was cool with a west wind. Perfect for hunting my number-one stand. The stand was next to a trail that exited a dogwood thicket. The thicket served as the primary bedding area for many local deer. Some large rubs had recently turned up on the trail, and I was wagering that a mature buck, still in his summer routine, was using the route to access his nighttime feeding area. I left work at 3:30 and was in my stand overlooking the rub line by 4:15. At around 6, I looked over my left shoulder and was amazed to see a truly magnificent buck preparing to make a rub about 40 yards behind me. Once finished with the rub, he continued on his way, pausing at just over 15 yards to make a half-hearted scrape. He was well within range, with a volleyball sized opening in the brush centered on his vitals. My mind raced. If I shoot now, a branch might deflect the arrow; if I wait, he won't come into the open until he is more than 20 yards away. Something deep in my hunter's brain told me to do it now! I drew and released in one smooth motion. Much to my chagrin, I watched the arrow careen off of a branch and sail over the bucks back. The sage old buck gracefully swapped ends and disappeared back into his brush-filled sanctuary. Chiding myself with epithets befitting a bumbling idiot, I sunk into the webbed seat of my treestand. I made a rookie mistake. When shooting instinctively, look at what you want to hit, NOT what you want to miss! Oh well, it was early and perhaps I'd get another chance at the big boy later in the season. Over the next week, I passed on several opportunities at small bucks. By the last week in October, I decided it would be best to fill the freezer with a doe so I could concentrate on bucks during my vacation. On October 28, I took a quartering-away shot at a lone, mature doe as she ambled through a white pine stand. The shot looked a little far back, but given the quartering-away angle, I was certain the arrow had made its way into the vitals. I waited 30 minutes and then climbed down and investigated the shot site. It was getting dark and I wasn't able to find my arrow, so I decided it would be best to wait until morning to continue searching. My heart sank when I awoke at 4 a.m. to pouring rain! The forecast had been for a slight chance of showers. I gathered my gear and quickly headed out. Upon arriving at the site, my worst fears were confirmed. The heavy rain had obliterated any spoor left behind by the doe, and the search was further complicated by extremely thick vegetation and standing water. When blood trailing proved impossible, I gleaned the forest and thickets in ever-widening circles, but always came up empty-handed. I searched for the doe in a steady rain for almost 8 hours. With no options left, I finally gave up, cold and saddened. There's nothing more damaging to a hunter's spirit than losing an animal. I practice regularly and pick my shots carefully to minimize the possibility of making a poor hit. I treasure and respect the animals I hunt, so losing one causes me tremendous discontent. I hesitate to even write of it, but is in fact an undeniable part of hunting. As hunters and stewards of the environment, we must strive to do our absolute best every time the bowstring slips from our fingers. By now my confidence had taken a big hit, and over the next few days it got worse as deer sighting seemed to drop off the charts. I desperately needed some success to rekindle my confidence. It's interesting to note that several bowhunting icons, including Fred Bear and Howard Hill, recognized the absolute importance of shooting live animals, as opposed to targets, to build the confidence necessary to be successful on big game. Howard Hill credited his incredible skills to his time spent on Santa Catalina, Santa Cruz, and Santa Rosa Islands where he frequently killed feral goats, sheep, and pigs during the 1950s and 1960s. Despite my best efforts, I still hadn't taken a deer by the fifth day of my vacation, and my wife mentioned something about using the last pack of deer burger in the lasagna we ate last night. Her comment wasn't meant to bite, but it actually got under my skin until I forced myself back to reality. Perhaps I was taking this too seriously. After all, I was supposed to be having fun. The next morning I hit the woods with an open mind and a new resolve. I would try my hardest, but whatever happened, happened. The wind was right to hunt one of my new stands located in a strip of woods that connected two bedding areas. By 5:45 a.m., I had my climber situated in a big black cherry tree that was positioned perfectly to take advantage of a natural shooting lane in the thick cover. The morning was warm and damp. Thick waves of misty fog drifted into my face as daylight fought to overtake the darkness that enveloped the dank woods. As daylight emerged, so did my confidence--more accurately, she materialized from a tangle of honeysuckle just 15 yards in front of me. By the time I'd lifted my longbow into shooting position, she was a mere seven yards away. I picked a spot slightly high on her rib cage and watched as my white-fletched arrow disappeared in her side. She bolted forward and the thick cover enveloped her. I let out a deep breath and relaxed my over-tensed muscles. I waited an hour and then followed an easy blood trail to the downed doe. I knelt beside her, feeling her warmth. I gave thanks for the venison she would provide and the confidence she restored. I took my time extracting the doe from the woods, even carrying her across two creeks to keep her from getting wet and muddy. This doe had given me an awful lot, and she deserved my respect in both life and death. With lifted spirits and renewed confidence, I went on to take a beautiful P&Y-class buck on the second-to-last day of the season...but that's another story. hunter profile-Keith Pinson | Whitetail Feeding Habits All Year Long | The Ridge Stand by Matt McAnally | Off & Running--J.P. Mahn | Elk Photos | Confidence Doe | Shed Hunters | Chad Goetten Buck | hello M.B.B. Rob | Mud Lick Monster | | Return Home | Taxidermy Shop | Hunting Photo Gallery | KIDS TRAIL! | Wild Hog Mania! | Fishing Photo Gallery | |
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