My Disastrous First Crossbow Hunt

I trained, I tracked, I failed…again

Me: “I don’t see any blood.”

B: “No worries, with these broadheads I often don’t see much blood until about 10-20 yards.”

An hour later we still hadn’t found any blood.

Three and a half hours, three properties (we asked for permission to access), and three football fields worth of walking through dense woody understory later, the blood trail B located simply stopped. And then the despair set in.

But let’s rewind things to a more optimistic time, where I could nearly taste the medium rare back strap searing in my cast iron skillet. I had gone back out to the Turtle House property after a hunt with B the day before.

After getting busted by a doe and her yearling fawn that Wednesday evening, I was eager to see if they would come back. B wasn’t with me this time, so I was alone in the blind, determined to prove myself a competent crossbow hunter.

About 45min after entering the blind, a 4-point buck walk through within range. He didn’t stop for any nibbles like the other deer had the night before and because I’m not a fan of how bucks taste, I used his presence as practice for the deer I hoped would come later. Deep, slow breaths, line up the shot, and…nothing. It was practice like I said, but I felt good exercise control over the excitement of a potential harvest. I was set.

Another 90 minutes passed and I found myself reflecting on how grateful I was for all the things that led to me being there. The land for providing the opportunity to feed myself, the older (evolutionarily) animal relatives for teaching me how to live in this space, the human relatives that taught and supported me over the years, and B & K for cultivating this specific land I was hunting on. I became a bit overwhelmed with gratitude. My vision blurred a bit.

And then I heard them coming.

The herd of doe and yearlings took their time walking in along the same path the buck had come. Their progress was steady and deliberate, feeding as they walked, cautious to be out on open ground. I had even taken off my glasses to prevent the glare that likely spooked the doe that came through just before sunset that same last evening. She had looked directly into the blind and ran off after I moved my head to line up a shot.

There were 5 deer now visible from where I sat in the blind; two yearlings and three doe. Check. 

I lined up a shot on the larger yearling, thinking I would embody the ecological role of so many other predators and take a youngster. That death would inflict the least amount of harm on the sustainability of the herd and allow a successful adult the opportunity the breed next year. Double check.

And then the yearling turned and fed with their ass facing me, blocking the other yearling who was quartered away. No shot.

I waited.

And waited.

And kept hoping that they would turn and give me a shot. Then I noticed the lead doe. She was and had remained broadside at 20 yards the entire time. Directly in front of the blind, a subconscious sacrifice for the youngsters.

Many hunters talk about experiences where a prey relative knowingly sacrifices themselves, presenting an easy shot and thus saving another family member. I experienced such on my first successful deer hunt, where the doe I’m carrying in the photo below, saw us coming and just stayed in place while the other deer ran away.

Another teacher who I am forever grateful for.

This lead doe, though she didn’t see me or seem to know I was there, was doing the same thing. I felt morally sound lining up the shot on her.

I steadied my breathing.

I pulled the trigger.

*Click!

*Thud!

The herd took off.

I scrambled to put my glasses back on as the doe I hit retreated to forest with the rest of the herd.

I lost sight of her, but then though I saw her fall about 50 yards from where I was sitting.

And then the adrenaline dump began.

I started shaking as all the control I had exerted to steady my self wained. I had done it! I know I hit her and was aiming directly at her heart and lungs. I had done it! I texted B:

And that was the end of my happiness for this hunt.

The rest of the night was an emotional rollercoaster. Finding blood, following the trail, not yet seeing a body, finding a large puddle of blood, following the trail, and not finding a body.

Why wasn’t their a body?

As the hours went by, the dread set in with the night. I had either shot the toughest deer that ever lived, or I had wounded a deer that we kept pushing deeper into the woods as she ran away from her pursuers. At roughly 10PM that evening I asked B:

“Have you ever chased a deer you hit this far?”

“No”

We never found her.

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The next few days were bad. I kicked myself for not making a better shot, for having to give up the chase, for causing that doe I slow and painful death, for exposing her relatives to said suffering, and for wasting all the time and energy B put in to mentor me.

An F+ failure.

And much like my successful but disturbing groundhog hunts from earlier in the year, I had to find a way to live with and learn from the suffering my inexperience caused.

People have been very supportive of my failed hunt; experienced hunters telling me it happens to everyone and that this is simply part of what hunting is.

I believe them and appreciate them, but I’m still sick with disappointment.

Later and now I take comfort in the fact that other relatives in the community have almost certainly ended that doe’s suffering. At one point during our search, B mentioned that he hadn’t heard any coyotes in the area in a while, which was both a comfort and a dread as we stumbled through the woods with our heads down following the blood trail.

I tell myself that a wounded doe would be a tremendous windfall for a coyote pack and that my mistakes have helped another relative of this forest thrive. I picture hungry cubs sharing the doe their aunts and uncles killed because it was wounded and easy prey. The bonds of the pack strengthened and their presence in the same woods guaranteed for another winter because I failed to feed my own family.

Perhaps part of my debt for suffering I caused that doe and her family will be paid to the coyote family.

I’m okay with that. I believe that. I hope I am forgiven.

What’s in my pocket

I was in Maryland this past week, visiting my parents and decided to go to the local Whole Foods to find some Striped Bass, my favorite fish of all time. I found some and mongered them in my step-mother’s kitchen (she’s such a sweet and generous person), and froze them for the trip back to Michigan.

Over the years of processing whole cuts, I’ve come to completely depend on a vacuum sealer to keep my food safe from freezer burn. There are a lot of vacuum sealers out there, but none of them perform better than this one.

I cannot recommend the Nesco Deluxe Vacuum Sealer enough. If this thing were $300, I’d gladly pay that price because it’s just that valuable a tool. You absolutely want one of these if you’re into wild foods.

If you’re in the market for one and would like to support this newsletter and the other content I produce, please use the link above for your purchase and a small commission (about 5%) of the sale will support this newsletter’s publication. Thanks!

What’s in my ear-hole

I’ve been listening more and more to a podcast hosted by an online entrepreneur named Ali Abdaal. He’s a former medical doctor in the UK, turned YouTuber and productivity ‘expert’. I admit to having a lot of cynicism around business, YouTubers, and folks who do what Abdaal does, but I find his content honest, smart, and genuine. I’m also learning a lot about how to build an online business from him and his guests like Steven Bartlett:

If you’re interested in learning more about how people make money through online business then Ali’s YouTube channel (different than the link above) is a great starting point. If you want to nerd out on the subject, then his podcast channel (thumbnail above) is where you want to go.

Tech and business are overwhelmingly white and filled with dude-bros peddling capitalism and white supremacy, so I try to consume a disproportionate amount of content from non-white creators. Abdaal interviews a lot of white people, but he’s one of the few I’ve seen who invite Black and brown people onto his platform. Not enough women of color though.

What’s on my brain

Online business. The new year is quickly approaching and I’m working towards building OutThereJCH into a business that enriches people’s lives and also makes some money.

Much more to come in the new year, including a series on my YouTube channel that follows my journey to build a successful side hustle content business.

Thanks for all the encouragement, attention, and feedback you’ve given thus far!

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I’ll talk to y’all next Sunday.

Cheers,

Jonathan