Regret

They say it happens to most everyone eventually, but somehow it doesn’t make me feel any better.

The short version is that I pushed a marginal shot on a deer, and I screwed up. The particulars are that it was about 150 yards, standing off of shooting sticks, and in failing light. I could barely see the deer. I had even checked my watch, and there were literally two minutes of legal shooting light remaining…but the practical shooting light was pretty much gone. Still, I talked myself into it and fired.

The muzzle flash in the encroaching darkness kept me from seeing the results of my shot right away, but I could hear the whitetail crashing off through the woods once the echo of the report faded. Since I knew he wasn’t anywhere near at the moment, I went down to the spot where he had stood to look for blood. Nothing.

My buddy came over to help me look, but it wasn’t until we got a few yards into the woodline that he spotted it. “I’ve got blood,” he said. A few more steps and I found a few drops as well. It was bright red, too. Maybe lung blood? Arterial? It seemed like a good sign. But a few more steps out into the dark and off to the right, he jumped up and bounded away, down the ridge.

We backed out and gave it about a half hour, and went back in to look some more. But we didn’t find much. A couple more drops of blood, a few freshly broken sticks…but that was all. After about an hour and a half of looking we had made no more progress, and decided that we were unlikely to find the buck that night. My friend, who owns the property, said he was going out again in the morning and he’d take another look while he was out.

I texted him the next day…”Find anything?” “Nothing,” he replied. Dammit. We agreed that it was most likely a non-fatal hit, and that he had survived the night and was probably getting on with his life. I wish I could do the same, but it’s hard. It was 100% my fault, and 100% avoidable. I have spent the last 48 hours picking everything apart about that shot, but no matter how I parse it, the conclusion is the same: I shouldn’t have taken it. The conditions at the time of the shot exceeded my abilities, but I let my eagerness to fill a tag push me beyond those limits.

I’d take it back if I could, but we all know about hindsight. I guess I’ll have to chalk it up as a hard lesson, and then apply that lesson in the future. Still, I haven’t decided yet if I’ll go out again this season. I feel like I don’t deserve it, or that I at least owe some penance to the hunting gods for having sinned. Maybe that penance is to sit out the rest of this season. Then maybe the best offering I can make is to continue to go out, but with a renewed commitment to learn and to do it right, or not at all. I haven’t decided yet…I guess we’ll see.