Reader-Submitted Story
Back in the Stand!
by Andrew Stepanuk of Fort McMurray, Alberta
After several years away from bowhunting, it was time for me to get back in the stand. I had spent most of September and October focusing on hunting waterfowl with my daughters, so I felt it was time to dedicate some effort to deer hunting.
I started by setting up a couple of trail cameras in an area where I had spotted mature whitetails in previous years. It didn’t take long to capture images of young bucks, along with plenty of does and fawns.
As August came to a close, I went to check my cameras and hang a stand in preparation for the archery opener in my zone.
Once I got home, I began reviewing the pictures, not expecting much. However, after scrolling through several images, there it was—a nice, mature 5x4 buck in full velvet, with impressive mass and plenty of character.
September 1 arrived and since it fell on a Sunday this year, I knew it would be my only chance for an evening hunt. Unfortunately, it was one of the hottest openers I could recall, reaching 29° Celsius with little to no wind. Despite the conditions, I decided to sit anyway, as my target buck had passed by my stand just two days prior in broad daylight. I climbed into my stand, prepared for a three-hour sit, but as expected, I didn’t see a thing.
Fast forward to Thanksgiving weekend. Typically, my cabin fills with friends and their kids for a weekend of waterfowl hunting, with a bit of bowhunting mixed in when possible. This year, after receiving some Intel from a local farmer, we had our first morning waterfowl hunt planned, and the kids were buzzing with excitement for an early start.
At 5:00 am, the kids woke up, eager for our first shoot of the fall. After a successful morning in the field, we split up to spot birds for the next morning’s hunt. With a check-in with a different landowner, we were set up for a Saturday morning mixer of ducks and geese, so we decided to head back to my cabin to clean our birds and have breakfast.
After breakfast, we shifted gears in preparation for some whitetail hunting. We sat together and devised a plan for each of us to sit for the evening hunt. Knowing we had to set a stand at one location, we headed out to set up one of my ladder stands on a crossing for Ben to sit. Now for Jarett and his son, I knew a location for a perfect ground blind. Once we completed our preparation, we decided to head back to my cabin and shoot our bows for the afternoon.
It was finally go-time. I dropped everyone off at their locations and made my way to my own stand. As I walked through the heavy timber to my trail camera, I swapped out my SD card before climbing in. To my surprise, two impressive shooter bucks had passed by my stand the previous two nights! Excited, I settled in for a three-hour sit.
Squirrels chattered above and it wasn’t long before a doe and a pair of fawns passed by within twenty yards, unfazed by my presence. Knowing that my ScentLok and the wind direction were perfect, I felt relaxed. More deer trickled by, heading to a nearby alfalfa field for their evening feed. With daylight fading and just 25 minutes left of legal light, I took my bow from the hanger, ready for whatever might come next. Moments later, a single mature doe walked down the game trail straight at me. Instead of turning left onto the main trail like all the previous visitors, she chose to go straight under my stand to start feeding.
Minutes later, I spotted a large deer coming down the trail. Knowing this was around the time my target buck had passed by the previous day, I hoped it would be him. As the deer drew closer and emerged from the thick brush, I could clearly see it was my target. I waited, hoping he would turn left, but instead, he followed the doe straight underneath me and a large pine bough. It was too tight to try to shoot, so I had to wait, hoping he would move to the side.
Time ticked away—only eight minutes of legal light left. My target buck was just seven yards to my right and finally moving in the right direction. I drew my bow quietly, picked my spot, and released my arrow just as he stepped over a downed log. I watched the green glowing nock pass through his body.
Then came the bowhunter’s worst nightmare; the shot was back! I hadn’t anticipated him lurching forward when he stepped over the log. Sitting in my stand, I felt a mix of excitement for having put an arrow through a gorgeous deer and anxiety for not making a better shot. I climbed down quietly, knowing I needed to give him some time while I gathered some help.
I picked up my friends and headed to my cabin. We chatted about their hunts. Jarett and his boy had a great encounter with a nice mature 4x4 but were unfortunately winded before they had a shot, while Ben didn’t see anything at all.
After a quick bite of supper, we devised a plan to recover my deer. It had now been an hour and a half since I had shot, and the temperatures were dropping.
We hit the trail, heading to the spot where I shot the deer. I picked up the glowing arrow from the ground and it was my worst fear—it was covered in gut material. We started following the blood trail in pitch blackness, picking our way through heavy brush and downed trees. The blood began to thin out—a speck here, a few drops there. Our excitement waned; we had all been here before, facing the dreaded decision of what to do next.
Knowing that temperatures were dropping and the forecast called for -5 Celsius overnight, we made the decision not to push it. We would pick up the trail in the morning.
That night was restless, with a high coyote population in the area weighing on my mind.
Morning finally arrived and over a quick coffee, we discussed the plan. I would walk into the last spot where we had marked blood—I had saved a waypoint on my phone and left flagging in a tree. Ben and Jarett would wait on the gravel road in the direction the deer had headed the night before.
As I made my way through the thick brush, I hoped to recover my deer. The leaves were covered with frost and dew, making the blood trail even more challenging to follow. Suddenly, I heard a squawk—a magpie! That was a clear sign. I picked up the pace, no longer searching for blood.
I emerged into a grassy meadow and scanned the area from a vantage point on a log. That’s when I saw the left tine of my buck glistening in the frosty grass!
“I found it!” I yelled out to my friends, but they were too far away to hear. I called Ben and dropped a pin for them. Ten minutes later, I could hear them making their way through the forest to help me recover my deer.
Given how far back we were, I decided it would be easier to break him down right there rather than try to cut a trail. We took some pictures, capturing the excitement of the moment, and got to work processing my buck. As we packed out the meat and headed for my cabin, laughter and stories filled the air, the thrill of the hunt bringing us closer together.
Back at my cabin as we unloaded the meat, I couldn’t help but reflect on how much had changed in those years away from bowhunting. The thrill of the chase had returned, but it was more than that; it was about sharing these moments with the people I loved. The memories created with my daughters during our waterfowl hunts had rekindled my passion for deer hunting, and now here I was, surrounded by friends and family celebrating a successful hunt.
For the previous Reader Story, click here.
