The homemade blind where I shot my buck reminded me of Frankenstein’s head. Inside, old vehicle seats and plenty of room made for very comfortable hunting.
February 20, 2026
By Curt Wells
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What the @#*^&$%? I hate it when that happens!
It’s the most frustrating experience in all bowhunting — an arrow that does not do what it is commanded to do. A crushing dose of exasperation flows into your veins as you realize you don’t understand what just happened. You’re embarrassed, even if you’re alone. All the practice, all the work and the expense to get yourself into the right place at the right time, and you blew the shot. Brutal.
A spitting rain softly pelted me as I cautiously hiked through the inky blackness to my truck. The wet ground allowed me to slip out silently, although I felt like kicking rocks. Instead, I was taking care not to alert the whitetail buck that had received my arrow an hour earlier.
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I was on my second whitetail hunt in Ohio with my friend, J.R. Tucker. The hunt had begun about 1 p.m. the day before, when J.R. sent me up a steep ridge to a homemade elevated ground blind overlooking the intersection of three ridges. There was a small amount of feed designed to enhance deer traffic about 35 yards from the blind. Cameraman Olin Wimberg and I settled in for a long afternoon. It was Nov. 13, typically the breeding phase, so we expected some rut activity.
I hadn’t even nocked an arrow when a wide 8-pointer walked up the ridge and looked around. It wasn’t the first time I’ve had bucks show up so quickly. I believe this buck heard us walking up the ridge in the dry oak leaves and came up thinking we were other deer making a racket. If you’ve bowhunted long enough, you’ve been halfway up a tree when a buck showed up, and this is why.
After making a poor shot on my 2024 Ohio buck, I was finally able to smile after we recovered the deer the following morning. The buck wasn’t much interested in the food but took a couple bites and scanned the surroundings. He certainly wasn’t a “first day” buck, plus he was 35 yards away, a distance I do not like when shooting at an alert deer. Of course, the buck then walked straight into 23 yards, as if to tempt me, inhaled the swirling ridgetop breeze and was gone. An hour later, a forkhorn showed up and repeated the process. Then it got quiet until sundown when a doe and twin fawns walked past the blind. Since she was reunited with her fawns, she had likely been bred already and was of little use to any buck, or to me.
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The next morning, we awoke to a driving rain and a radar screen that looked very wet until mid-morning. J.R. called about 10:30 a.m. and said he was glassing a good buck that had a doe locked down in a field of prairie grass. With a Stalker Decoy strapped to my bow, I snuck into the field edge and spotted the buck’s antlers jutting out of the weeds. To steal the wind, I had to circle around and cut through a shelterbelt. I could still see the buck’s antlers but had no idea where the doe was. When I closed to within 58 yards of the buck, the doe showed me where she was, on a small hump, watching me sneak along, probably snickering to herself. She bolted, and the buck followed, having no clue he was being targeted.
The Best Laid Plans After lunch, we headed for a huge, homemade blind that reminded me of Frankenstein’s head. It was cattle fence wrapped in some kind of heavy, industrial-grade felt. Inside was a bench seat from a minivan and a bucket seat, both of which were so comfortable that staying alert was going to be a challenge.
A decent 8-pointer came through about 3 p.m. with his nose to the ground at 58 yards. I grunted multiple times, catching his attention, but he wasn’t looking for a deer with antlers. I tried bleating, but he tuned me out. Once that happens, it is futile.
About 4:30, I peeked out of the blind to my left and saw a mature doe standing on the trail. I was confident she wasn’t alone, and sure enough, 10 yards behind her was a good-looking buck. At first, I was deceived by the narrowness of the buck’s rack, but then I noticed the mass, five points on a side and quite a few trash points on the beams. He was looking better with every step!
The doe casually walked in front of me at 23 yards, never even glancing at the blind she’d seen most of her life. I knew the buck would follow in her footsteps, so I prepared for the shot. The buck did as expected, but I did not. I took a walking shot, which I usually try to avoid. I hate trying to stop a deer, because even if it doesn’t spook the deer, it does alert them and contributes to string-jumping.
My arrow hit the buck back and low, and that is when the frustration bubbled to the surface. It was a poor shot, but why? I don’t make excuses on camera, but there must have been a reason, an explanation, for the poor shot. Did I punch my release? Torque my grip? Was my aim unsteady? It was only 23 yards. The buck couldn’t have jumped much at that range, could he? I hate having to ask myself such questions.
This frame capture from our hunt video shows that, even at 23 yards, my buck was already lunging and starting to flee before my arrow arrived, resulting in a less than ideal shot placement. In many cases, an errant shot is the product of the animal reacting to the sound of the bow release. String-jumping, at least to the point of altering the shot’s point of impact, is more prevalent than most believe. We see it on nearly every shot, because we can replay the footage, which doesn’t lie. The accompanying photo illustrates that even at just 23 yards, the buck already was launching before my arrow arrived. I still made a poor shot, and I own that, but it was altered by the buck’s lightning-fast reaction.
The buck bolted into the trees, stood for a minute or so, then walked slowly west, confused about what had happened. Then darkness came and I began my exasperated, rain-soaked, and silent hike out to my truck. The focus now would be singular and concentrated — recovery at all costs.
Satisfying Conclusion Camp was less than a mile away, and my fellow hunters were preparing to deep fry crappies for supper. While they worked their culinary magic, J.R., who owns both a tracking dog and a thermal drone and hires out for deer recovery, put his drone in the air to look for my buck (be sure to read the sidebar for my take on this subject).
Although the deer didn’t go far after the shot, I was still glad to know I could legally use the assistance of a thermal drone to aid in recovery. The drone was incredible, and J.R. found my buck in seconds. It was bedded just 70 yards from the blind but was still alive. Ohio law dictates that if the animal is still alive, the drone must land. So, J.R. brought it back. I was concerned about the rain, and what I thought was a gut shot, but J.R. said, “Don’t worry. The rain doesn’t matter with the drone, and I’m 100 percent on [retrieving] gut-shot deer if they aren’t pushed. We will recover him in the morning.” I felt better, and those crappies were great!
At daybreak, the drone immediately detected the thermal image of my buck, which was dead in its original bed. Because of the buck’s reaction at the shot, my arrow had angled forward enough to penetrate the liver and the opposite lung. We would have found the buck easily without the drone or the dog, but as we all know, that isn’t always the case.
The buck was a fine animal, with good mass and lots of character points. My poor shot had left me with a feeling I didn’t like, but I was thankful for having access to the tools necessary to ensure my frustration didn’t turn into a feeling of total loss. There is only honor in recovering an animal, no matter how it is accomplished.
Author’s Notes: On this hunt I used a Hoyt Alpha AX-2 bow, Easton 4 mm Axis arrows, Rage Trypan broadheads, Spot-Hogg bowsight and Tuff-Guy release, and Browning clothing.
The Case for Recovery I can hear the naysayers and handwringers sniveling already, but let’s get one thing out front when it comes to my opinion on the use of tracking dogs or drones for recovering animals — once the arrow leaves the bowstring, sporting ethics cease. The one and only goal now is to recover the animal by any legal means necessary. We all do our best to find our animal, but when the going gets tough, it’s time to step up the recovery game, whether that means a tracking dog or a thermal drone. Recovery is imperative, because if an animal isn’t recovered, the result is often the hunter killing another animal. Not only is this wasteful; it is detrimental to the resource, and it inflates the mortality rates of hunting.
Even though we found my buck with the drone, J.R. put his tracking dog, Molly, on the trail for practice. The use of tracking dogs is legal in a growing number of states, and the number of handlers is also on the upswing. This is because dogs are effective in recovering wounded animals and are especially good at tracking gut-shot animals. Some states require that tracking dogs be leashed, and each state has its own regulations. Tracking-dog handlers typically advise hunters to avoid tromping around on the blood trail, as it scatters the “evidence” and makes the dog’s job more difficult. You can find more information about tracking dogs by visiting unitedbloodtrackers.org. They even have a database that can help you locate a dog handler.
Understandably, the thermal drone option spawns considerable debate. However, I’ve always said I would use an Apache helicopter with thermal imaging to recover an animal if I could, but a drone is actually better. It can be flown high enough to avoid spooking a wounded animal, can easily locate the heat signature of an animal, day or night, and can zoom in to positively identify the target animal.
The first complaint you’ll hear is that the drone can be abused and used for nefarious purposes. That’s true. So can the rifle in your home, or the spotlight in your garage. Poachers know no limits, but that shouldn’t exclude all uses of a drone. The first step is to check the legality of using a drone where you hunt. Laws in some states are very strict, and any use of a drone is strictly prohibited. Finding a drone operator is a little more difficult. These drones can cost up to $20,000; and you can expect to pay $400-$500 to bring in a drone to find your animal. They are extremely effective but not infallible. You can find out much more at dronedeerrecovery.com.
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