Day Two:
Well, the show last night was as close as it comes.
Sat in the natural blind we had built a few days previous, side by side.
About 50 minutes before dark, a single doe sauntered by - at ten feet!!
The Lad was as calm as could be, simply smiling and watching the show while she wandered out into the field to feed - at 25 - 30 yards.
Fifteen minutes later, another younger doe came along from a different direction.
They fed side by side for quite the spell.
Suddenly the younger one lifted her head and stared HARD into the adjacent timber opposite from us.
The larger doe confirmed "
there is someone there", but was entirely nonchalant about the matter.
The younger one strode over to the bushline and held, staring into the timber.
Senses on
Red Alert, both the
Young Gun & I sensed what was about to happen.
With a subtle shift, the Lad positioned himself just as the area's large three point entered the scene.
The buck instantly made for the doe, who led him on a merry prance back out towards us.
One hand up to the Lad -
hold... hold...
As they approached, the buck seemed to lose interest in the first doe, and sidled in behind the larger one.
There he paused allowing me to gently whisper
when he steps clear of her he will present a good shot.
Almost as though he had heard that, his muzzle went to the ground and he began to feed.
The large doe paid him no mind, and they continued to feed side by side for over 15 minutes.
At 25 yards.
And the entire time the buck was well hidden directly behind that big doe.
Damn!
Again the Lad showed incredible patience and fortitude for one so young.
The only give-away was the subtle tremble in his hands as his eyes glistened staring at what was going on before us.
Catching that, I could not help by smile internally, well remembering the
RUSH of those early hunts so far back in the mists of time of my own life.
NOTHING makes one feel more alive than those moments in my mind!
As daylight began to fail quickly, I was about to call it off, as it seemed the positioning we required was not about to happen.
Then something spooked the antlered one, he jumped and began to trot out from behind the doe.
I stopped him quickly with the standard grunt (Thanks Wabi!!), and he froze broadside.
Take Him I mouthed.
As the gun came up, the Lad's gloves made contact with a tree limb that bolsters one side of the blind.
Damn ski gloves, the sound they made seemed like a
YELL in the stillness of the eve!
The buck tensed to launch, and before I could say HOLD again the gun was up.
A split second before the 12 gunge roared, that buck rocketed like his tail was on fire!
Perfectly centered where his chest has been a mere millisecond ago, the buckshot printed a lovely tight pattern on the ground.
Double Damn!!
Although I knew it to be a miss, I did not miss the opportunity to teach him about the follow-up requirements.
We gave it 15 minutes, then carefully investigated where he had been when the shot went off.
No hair, no blood.
Then we switched on our headlamps & worked the trail out well into the timber, and four of the adjoining trails thereafter.
Put in about an hour doing that, and the Lad was all over the task at hand.
Soon it was obvious -
A Swing & a Miss.
Some of the most exciting moments of my life, and some of the most disappointing were his quiet words as we withdrew.
I gently explained that even the very best sometimes miss, and asked if he understood why the buck had acted like he did.
Stupid Gloves.
Yep.
And today his Pa is taking him to Cabela's after school to get a good hunting pair (and likely a few other sundry items that will become "
desperately needed" when they get there 
)
His mood well brightened by the time we reached the truck, and he was positively bubbly on the ride back home.
There he simply could not wait to excitedly explain all of the details to his Pa, culminating with
"I will get him next time Dad!"
His Pa and I winked at each other, and reassured the
Young Gun that things were indeed coming together as they should.
Only the second time out there, and had a possibility on one of the larger bucks in the area.
The pride in the Rancher's eyes was obvious, and he almost choked up as he shook my hand before I wandered off.
I left smiling for the drive home, already planning our next line of attack, and hoping that the next time the buck we encounter hangs up for another second or two...
More to come in this saga methinks.
I have to play catch-up for 2 days now, after hunting for 2 weeks straight there are some outstandings around the Hacienda that need addressing.
His Pa will take him out tomorrow, and I will return Thursday for our next foray...
Thanks for the well wishes Folks!
They not only are appreciated, it seems they helped in presenting us with the opportunity we encountered last night!
Keep them coming please, and just maybe this young fellow will realize his dream of taking a buck this fall!
Letcha know as it goes...
Cheers,
Nog
"Political correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end."
.....and with Ironnoggin in his corner, I have no doubt it'll happen! 
