Lone Star Bowhunters Association

To say I was excited would have been an understatement. I have for years wanted a chance to hunt for Blackbuck Antelope and the cold December rain went pretty much unnoticed as I watched a continuous parade of animals pass between my stand and a small pond that formed a great funnel for anything traveling across the midsection of the ranch.

This was my first time to ever hunt on an exotic game ranch and I was determined to pass on everything until I had a shot at a Blackbuck.

I was watching the hills hoping to spot one of the little Antelopes when I caught a glimpse of something white cresting the hill headed towards the pasture behind me.

In an instant I no longer cared about my long anticipated Blackbuck as I stared through the binoculars at a beast of a Fallow deer. Having the entire ranch to myself I knew Ricky would not care where I was at, so I quickly gathered my bow and quiver and slipped out of the blind. I crossed the back pasture in a trot to another stand site that I felt sure the Fallow would eventually pass looking for Does.

I did not reach the stand a moment too soon as the first time I scanned the horizon I spotted the fallow. He was traveling with four other Fallows, all nice deer but there was no doubt he was King. His running buddies trotted down the hill and began picking up corn as he stood and watched from one hundred yards away. I can not put into words the emotions that were overwhelming me as I watched him. The sky was still black with storm clouds and they made a perfect contrast to the snow white fallow standing like a statue on the horizon, his wide thick horns reaching towards the sky.

Slowly he started walking my way, at about fifty yards he must have decided the coast was clear because he began to lope down the hill. He never let up until he crashed into one of the smaller bucks driving him away from the feeder. Their battle carried the buck away from me as I stared down my arrow at half draw. Turning his attention to his next victim the buck started a stiff legged walk towards the other three deer.

My heart was in my throat as I tracked the deer with my bow, feeling the warmth in my back as the sixty six pound Black Widow reached full draw. With all the concentration I could muster, I focused on a little off colored spot on his chest as he crossed in front of me. When he dropped his head to attack, I felt the string slip away. Time stood still as I watched the arrow leave the bow like it had a mind of its own. The seven hundred grain shaft buried itself to the feathers tight behind the Buck