Evolution of a Bow Hunter: Part Two

Editor's Note:  It's time for Part Two.  For a little refresher, the last two paragraphs of Part One are italicized below.  Enjoy folks, one more chapter to go after this read...

From Part One:

...I probably wouldn’t be here telling you this story if one of my friends did not step up and take control of the situation. He packed my neck with some of the snow, reached in my pants pocket and grabbed the keys and ran back to the pickup. I later learned that if he would not have done that I probably would’ve bled to death. I was conscious the whole time this was going on. I later learned that when my friend was running back to the pickup he didn’t think twice crossing a flowing river. Combined with adrenaline and cold water he was so bad he dropped the keys into the water. Luckily, they landed within clear sight.

During all of this I still can remember hearing the pickup start up and him driving about a mile and a half to the nearest farmstead where he called the ambulance. Soon after the sound of the ambulance grew from a murmur which I swear I could hear all the way from Enderlin grew into a loud growl as it reached me. Getting lift into the ambulance is when I lost consciousness.


Evolution of a Bowhunter:  Part Two

A whole month later, I wake to the view of the hospital ceiling. I had a breathing tube going down my throat disabling my ability to speak. I dozed off and on and really didn’t realize what was going on until the second month in the hospital. What I did know, was that I could not move my legs and I could not move my hands and fingers.

I don’t really remember talking to any doctors until one day they said they are going to have a conference and they wanted family members to be there. I’m sure everyone knew a lot more than I did and knew my diagnosis. I remember being wheeled into a conference room and most of my aunts and uncles were there along with my parents. That is when the doctors finally told me or I finally realized that I would be paralyzed for the rest of my life. They also told me that I would be ready to go home the next week. I remember being in shock that they were going to let me go home because as far as I was concerned, I was not “fixed.” Obviously, an injury like this is impossible to fix but try swallowing those words. It was difficult.

I got home that March and it became even more difficult to accept what had happened and how everything had changed so quickly. While I was in the hospital my parents had to remodel the house in order to make it wheelchair accessible. Everything from that point on was different and would never be the same. Or so I thought.

I didn’t go back to high school that year or at least go to school. I finished my sophomore classes that summer with help from a tutor. That summer I did not do too much because I didn’t think I could do too much. Before school started in the fall for my junior year I received my electric wheelchair which helped in my recovery in many ways. It is hard to explain how dependent you are on someone else when you have a manual wheelchair. The electric wheelchair let me be somewhat independent. It also let me do what I like to do most and that is to get outside and enjoy the great outdoors. Even though I didn’t go too far, at least I could imagine doing things and going places by myself.

Going back to high school was great. I was scared people were going to treat me differently and feel sorry for me. I’m sure there was some of that but for the most part your friends are still your friends no matter what. I didn’t do much in high school that year or my senior year. Just enough to get by to graduate. My high school was very accommodating. They changed classes around moving them to the lower floors. They also added a medieval wheelchair elevator that was kind of scary.

Things were okay but there was still resentment I was in this position but one day a simple invite seemingly brought me back to enjoying life again. Kondo, my old coach, asked if I would help him coach the Babe Ruth baseball team. As most of you know I through the Twins’ baseball talk forums on Fishing Buddy, I live and die baseball. Coaching seemed to get me out of my shell and made me realize that I can do anything I wanted to outside obvious limitations. Just getting out and being with friends was another turning point in my recovery. Kondo was a big part of this. And so were the kids. They didn’t look at me as someone in a wheelchair, they looked at me as someone who could help them with their baseball fundamentals and someone who could lighten the mood with some good old Babe Ruth baseball humor. Some of you will know what I mean, especially the ones who were coached by Kondo.

That fall in 1997 I decided to go to North Dakota State University to further my education. I was undecided but with a new attitude on life it didn’t really matter. I was going to enjoy it.

My modified Barnett crossbow. The trigger is elongated, it is an old arrow shaft. The rubber tube is a grunt call.

Now back to the hunting. In the summer of 1998 I received a phone call from Delmar McLean, who was a member of U.F.F.D.A. (United Federation for Disabled Archers). He asked me if I wanted to go on the bow hunt south of Leonard at the 4-H camp. I replied to his request, “I can’t shoot a bow but I would come along and watch.”

Delmar happily responded, “We are going to give you a crossbow and YOU are going to shoot.”

I was kind of skeptical of what he was saying but went along with it. He told me to meet him and his crew at the 4-H camp that summer so I could get my crossbow. My dad and I went down and met people who were organizing the hunt and they opened my eyes to what is possible. They gave me a crossbow that did not have any adaptive equipment attached to it but they said they would work with me to get it possible for me to shoot. My dad adamantly worked on the crossbow and the mount which would enable me be to shoot by myself. We had to do quite a bit of manufacturing on our own. A lot of trial and error was done and is still being done to this day on perfecting the crossbow.

By the time September came around we welded a frame that would allow me to shoot the crossbow by myself. When I got down to the 4-H camp it was quite amazing to see all the people there with different disabilities shooting compound bows and crossbows. People with no arms, people with no legs and even one man who were blind were still enjoying hunting with their limitations. Tears almost came to my eyes as a dream of hunting again was about to come true.

The first day that I went out hunting was on some of Wall’s land west of the 4-H camp. I had someone sitting with me the first time I went out hunting. Just to find out what I needed to help my hunting experience. And it did not take long before we realize that I was going to need something on my crossbow to help aim up, down, right and left. We were set up behind two round bales when a doe and two yearlings came by. I could not get my scope/crosshairs on the doe because I could not aim without moving my chair. And for those of you who have deer hunted before making noise before you shoot usually doesn’t work so well. As the deer left I started to think about what I could add on my crossbow to help in aiming. I should backtrack a little. Up till now my crossbow was fixed solidly on my mount and the mount was solid on my chair. On my way back to the 4-H camp that night I thought about mounting my crossbow on a spotting scope window mount. So after supper I drove up to Scheels and picked one up. The next morning Dad and I were in the shop trying to figure out how to mount a crossbow on the window mount. And as it turned out it was a lot easier than we thought. That morning before we went back to the 4-H camp I shot a couple times and was amazed at how easy it was considering a month earlier I didn’t think that you shoot a crossbow at all. I didn’t end up getting a deer at the 4-H camp that year but it was memorable anyway. Just meeting all the guides, hunters and volunteers was something I will never forget.

My guide Les and myself during Twist of Fate at the old 4-H Camp south of Leonard.

On Saturday during the hunt there is a shoot when all of the hunters draw a target out of a hat and have to try to hit it at 15 yards. This is just to show everyone what different type of equipment everyone uses and how they use it. And the targets are not ordinary targets. They are playing cards, records, balloons and ping-pong balls. Guess what I drew, ping-pong ball. I remember I was nervous as a dog crapping tacks when I had to go up in front of everyone and try to hit this knowing I had only shot my crossbow couple of times. I remember lining up thinking I should aim low because I had been shooting high. That is when I pulled back on the trigger and the next thing I knew everyone was cheering because I cracked that ping-pong ball dead center.

After the hunt at the 4-H camp I went out hunting a couple of times during October but with no luck. That was until Halloween. I remember Halloween was on a Sunday that year because Smoothy was going to pick me up to go hunting that day. I remember it was Sunday because Smoothy had to go away for a while starting Monday, but that is another story. It was a perfect fall day with very little wind. I remember this because while waiting for Smoothy as usual, I was outside thinking he is going to get here too late to be able to get to where we want to go before dark. Just then I saw him coming down the driveway and he asked me if I was ready to go and we were on our way. We decided to go hunting down by Jerry Anderson’s a.k.a. Hartford Valley. We got out of the van and were looking for a place to set up in between a cornfield and Maple River. As we were going down the dirt trail we found a hay bale about 10 yards from the cornfield with a small mud puddle in between them. Smoothy said, “This should work perfect, the deer would come out of the corn, and take a drink out of this mud puddle and you should have a perfect shot.”

So he got me all set up and went to a tree stand that was within 50 yards. He figured that was far enough away so that he could smoke and the deer would not smell him and bust me. It wasn’t 20 minutes later when I heard some rustling in the corn. That is when two yearlings came out and started drinking out of the puddle. They were both too little to shoot, so I just watched them for a little while until their mom came out. And she too just like the others came out of the corn and drank from that puddle just as Smoothy said they would. That is when I lined her up and took the shot. I didn’t know exactly where I hit her all I knew was there was a bunch of commotion in the corn and it sounded like she was breakdancing which is always a good sign. I waited a little bit and then I started whistling to Smoothy to get his attention. The next thing I knew he was running toward me asking me if I hit something. I told him that I shot and heard a lot of noise afterwards but did not know if I hit her good enough. That’s when we started looking around and found some blood on a corn husk. Then just like a bloodhound he disappeared in the corn and only went about 50 yards before he was hollering, “you got her, you got her.” I think he was more excited than I was. That night we shared in the harvest by eating the heart and tenderloins. It was the best tasting deer I ever had...

I cannot explain what I felt like to be back out hunting after everything I had been through. Just being in the outdoors again was worth everything. The main thing it gave me was independence. Not having to rely on anyone or burden anyone to reach a goal was very gratifying. I can pick up the place where I want to hunt. I can choose to shoot a deer or let them go. Everything is up to me. Hunting with a bow is all about just you and the outdoors. You learn a lot about yourself and others when you're by yourself with just your thoughts sitting in the shelterbelt in the middle of nowhere.

After harvesting that doe that first year back in the woods, I was a little picky the next couple of years. I think I shot the first one just to prove to myself that I could do it. Not shooting anything the next couple years wasn't because I wasn't hunting, it was more of trying to become a better hunter. Also, of course always looking for Mr. Big. Those two years I hunted more then I had ever done in the past. I've probably average going out around 30 times each year. I really learned a lot about how to pattern deer. A lot of trial and error. The only problem was every one always asked me, "did you get anything" "why haven't you shot anything." So the next year I decided to do something about it.

That fall I was invited down to the 4-H camp again for the Twist of Fate hunt. That is usually the end of September.

My doe I shot down at the camp.

When I get invited to their hunt I still go out hunting before but would never shoot anything unless it would go on my wall. That year I was teamed up with my guide Less. A great guy and a great guide. The guys down there go through a lot of work finding the deer, patterning the deer and setting up blinds. Anyway back to the hunt. The spot I was hunting at that year was about a mile east of the camp on Gordon's land. Gordon is one of the landowners that graciously let us use their property. And his property is one of the best I have ever hunted. The spot I was in the first night was kind of what I would call swamp buck territory. It was down in the thick woods along the Sheyenne river bottom. I remember he was really dark because of all the tall trees and thick underbrush. I remember thinking to myself when I got in there I was in the battle of the time because no sunlight was coming in. Shooting with a scope you need at least a little bit of sunlight or moonlight to see the crosshairs. I believe I had two or three does come in right away and then nothing for a couple of hours. Right when I was thinking nothing was going to come out I spotted a little 2 x 3 swamp buck walking right towards my shooting lane. This is when I for some reason decided to yawn. And when I yawn my arms move a little. And wouldn't you know it my arm hit my trigger and my bolt when flying through the trees kind of like a plink-O game. So I was stuck there without any ammunition and the buck walked right by without a care in the world. When Less came back to pick me up he noticed that my bolt was gone and he asked me what happened. Let's just say everyone back at the camp had a good laugh.

After that little fiasco we decided to move to another spot the next night with a little bit more light and hopefully more action. That day we also rigged up a walkie-talkie to my tray so just in case I had another yawning attack I could call him up and we could cock another arrow.

This is like a good idea until it started raining, this will go up later in the story, but I digress. Back to the hunt.

The spot of hunting that night was on the side-hill and the deer would be about 10 yards below me, at about a 20 yard shot. I was use to shooting on flat terrain so this was a new experience for me. Anyway it wasn't 15 minutes and it started raining. Not hard but about to get everything wet especially the walkie-talkie. About 15 minutes after that a nice big dry doe came in to the Golden Nugget pile, you baiters will know what I'm talking about. Anyway shooting downhill I was always told to shoot a little lower because there is less gravity pushing down or something like that. So I aimed just below her armpit and let it fly. She took off running into the woods, it sounds like about 70 yards away. I could not tell if I hit her or not. It sounded like me that she was just spooked. I really started to doubt myself when I looked down at the spot where I shot and saw my bolt sticking out of the ground and I could not see any blood on it. This is when the walkie-talkie comes into play. I decided to call up Les and have him cock my bow again. But when I tried to get the intercom button everything started sliding. So I decided to take my frustration out on the little piece of crap and started beating it. During my little tirade I must've hit a button and I could hear him asking if I needed anything. But I could not respond because of the wetness and slipping. So I started beating it again and I heard him say I am coming. It didn't take him long to get to where I was and when he got there he asked me, "You have another yawning attack?"

We both got a good kick out of that.

Then I told him I shot at a doe but could not tell if I hit her or not. So he went down to the spot where my bolt was and it was caked with blood. What a relief! Not only a success but I’m sure I’d have to reference another yawning in jest…either way the boys back at the camp would have really got a kick out of it. Anyway it didn't take him long before he found her. We got all of my stuff ready to go in and we headed back to his pickup. It was still daylight so we decided to field dress her right there instead of back at camp. I usually wouldn't tell you about the gutting but there is a point. When we were looking at the entry and exit wounds we noticed that it was real low and we wondered what I hit. After looking through the organs we noticed that there was a perfect three blade slice right through the middle of the heart. So we saved the heart and brought it back to the camp for the guys to see. When we got back to the camp I told the guys I always hit what I'm aiming at. I had to get back at them for them ribbing the night before. By the way I still have the heart in my freezer if you want to see what I was aiming at...

Please check back for Part Three...