Chasing Muley’s Around

It seems like it was yesterday that my gear was neatly packed in my clean truck as I anticipated the fast approaching season.  My arrows where neatly sorted and mounted
with sharp broad heads, their fletching new and bright, my bow precisely tuned from months of bag work, the strings and cables sported a fresh coat of wax. All in preparation for the big show called hunting season.

Now weeks into season I find myself driving home in a rain storm my mind is sorting through the successes and the failures of 2011 hunting season. My knees and feet are riddled with cactus quills, my feet show traces of partly healed blisters, and a fine layer
of dirt covers my body from days of hunting and sleeping under the stars. My neatly sorted arrows look used and no longer represent an even dozen and my bow string appears to need a shave. Without exception, everything I own is now covered in dust including my truck which also has debris scattered throughout the cab.


Up to this point, I have been unsuccessful in harvesting a muley but my passion propels me to continue the pursuit of filling my deer tag into the rest of season. The abuse on my body and gear has been well worth it and represents fun filled days of hunting and quality time in the outdoors with my hunting partner.  As of late the pursuit of filling my deer tag
has turned to hunting out of my treestand for whitetails, I’ll keep you posted.

One Response to Chasing Muley’s Around

  1. Hi Joey!
    I have known and experienced the same feeling of thrill and defeat time and time again when chasing these gorgeous creatures. One moment they are right there in front of you, everything seems to be working out perfectly, and then at the blink of your eye your two to three hours of laying in the grass waiting for him to stand are now bounding away with an almost discernible smirk on his face. In these moments my dad used to always pat me on the back, give a slight grin, and say, “that’s why they call it hunting not killing.” It took me years of missed opportunities, blown stalks, bad wind direction, and ultimately unfilled tags to finally come to a place where I could truly agree with my dad, that it is just called hunting not killing. Since then those few simple words have been a cornerstone of how I hunt. The moments when laying in the grass, instead of my mind thinking of how this could all go wrong and I may never even get him, I choose to instead, admire his antlers, enjoy the wind blowing through the tall grass, smile at the lady bug attempting to climb atop of my bow, and pray and thank God for another opportunity at one of His amazing creatures. It’s amazing to see that you were able to see the abuse on your body and gear as a representation of fun filled days and quality time hunting. Sadly, this is something many hunters seem to miss and not understand. Hopefully your whitetail season was filled with success and pure pleasure out in the stand. Would love to see pics or hear a story if ya have one. 🙂 Aim Small Miss Small


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *