Island Style Deer Hunting
Many agree that the ultimate
bow hunt challenge is the wily Axis deer.
I first laid eyes on one nearly three years ago on the dusty red slopes
of the west end of Moloka’i. My initial reaction was ….”ah, I can’t
shoot one of those deer , they are too small and beautiful.” The warm early morning light was filtering in and there was
just enough moisture on the doe’s nostrils to make a drip. I was close enough to see the glint in their eyes.
I couldn’t bring myself to take a shot.
I
twitched and the keenly alert lead doe let out a shrill bark, and off they
darted back the same direction they came, like a school of fish, in perfect
unison. Then I heard a few more
barks in the distance, as our guide Nelson was making a push to get the deer
down the mountain in the direction of his son, and my buddy Clyde.
This was getting exciting.
Not only are these deer awesomely beautiful to watch, they are vocal as
well.
Then
another “pile”-as they say on Molokai- drops down over a ridge. This time a
monarch of a buck appeared. His antlers, tipped in white from rubbing, were almost
comical in appearance considering their size compared to his body size.
I studied him intently for half an hour as he meandered along, seemingly
unaware of his surroundings. Unlike
his harem of does, which are constantly on guard with keen eye and ear, the buck
is cruising. Even at this early
hour, the proud one lies down to rest as the does browse and form a protective
watchful circle about him. I
started to make the mistake one often makes by thinking I could slip up a little
closer and maybe get a shot. I
did manage to slip over and up a little, and found a suitable rock to sit on
behind a scrub keawe tree, so I tried to make myself invisible and nocked an
arrow.
The
pile moved down the slope leisurely feeding over to where I had just been
hiding. Logically, had I not
moved I would have had a shot.
Then the buck turned, at about 65 yards, and started to walk toward me.
I had the bow up, arrow on the string, still as possible with my racing
heartbeat, and he stopped broadside.
Something caught his eye, maybe the now brighter light glinting on my
broadhead, and we locked eyes.
For
what seemed like forever, I had that jab of rock in my backside, the quiver of
the extended arm, and the little voice inside of me saying, “wait for a good
shot.” He decided to move on, and I lowered the bow, glad to have glimpsed of
one of the most elegant and intelligent creatures on the planet.
He
was in no hurry. The midday heat
would soon be on us both. With the dry warm winds on this September day, I’d
be withering. He’d be bedded
chewing his cud under a keawe with his eyes downwind, and his ever watchful does
on guard duty.
I
stumbled back to the truck and listened to Clyde tell of his close encounter of
his own, He turned, looking like Bigfoot in his shaggy camo and said to me as he
reached for the cooler of drinks: “boy, you’ll never forget that first time
you see one of those big bucks.”
He
was right. I had been
fortunate enough to win the traditional category of the 3-D shoot put on by the
Molokai Bow Hunters Club. 28 very
lifelike foam animals are spread out thru the woods and connected by a trail.
These shoots in Hawaii draw a healthy crowd, with lots of divisions and
age groups; hence lots of winners.
The
Molokai Ranch, as a sponsor of the event, gave us winners a free day of Hunting
on the 54, 000 acre property. I
came home on the plane back to the Big Island determined to practice, to learn
as much as I could about those Axis deer and to put myself in that spot again,
as soon as possible.
One
of the successful hunters shared some of that awesome venison with me and one
taste for the family made for unanimous agreement: “get some more of that
delicious meat.”
So
began my quest for more involvement with the Axis deer.
I am lucky enough to have a Father who took me into the woods as a boy in
Texas, and showed me how to walk quietly, and study the signs and trails for
whitetail deer. Another childhood
mentor, Bill Peace, is still an avid hunter.
Us kids spent countless hours admiring his collection of Indian
arrowheads. I shot my first deer
with a rifle at age 11.
This
coming back to my roots of sorts, this time with a bow and arrow, feels really
good. When my son, still a
picky eater, pulls a piece of that venison off the fire, he says,
“Dad, that’s good” A freezer full doesn’t last as long as one
would think.
Bowhunting
deer in Hawaii seems a bit odd at first, but the advantages are truly amazing.
Year around seasons, warm weather, and plentiful Axis deer immune to fleas and
ticks are the first that come to mind. Stalking
on one’s belly without a thought for snakes is a quite a relief.
. The only indigenous
mammal on Hawaii is the Monk Seal. Hunting
the introduced species is a way to keep the balance.
There
are plenty of public lands to bowhunt feral goat, sheep and pig with long
seasons and no lottery. This
gives one a good opportunity to prepare your skills for the pursuit of the Axis.
In
this most wonderful climate, we get to shoot our bows nearly every single day.
The week before the hunt, we even shoot twice a day.
I relish the stories that other hunters share, and even out in the line
up surfing will swap bow hunt stories with my buddies.
Funny
how one gets hooked by such an all-consuming hobby.
I seek out as many far flung 3-D shoots, as the funds will allow.
If one considers all the Islands, there is a shoot just about every
month, somewhere.
I
even went so far as to build bows, in itself quite a challenge.
Using local hardwoods, a few tools and an open air work space, I strive
for a blend of art and woodworking with a practical result.
A bow is much like a good tool, feels good in the hand and even better
when it does its job.
Being
careful not to waste, I learned how to tan the hides, which makes for quivers
and other accessories. Antlers, especially the sheds one finds while
hunting, are good for embellishing the bows and other tools.
On
the down side, I spend money on hunts that I shouldn’t, I read every thing on
the subject I can get my hands on and spot and stalk days on end looking for
deer. The process of sneaking up within bow range in itself is such a kick in
the pants; it keeps one trying again and again. Many a trip a-field I return
home with no meat for the table, humbled by the cunning deer yet again.
Joey
Joao, Molokai’s celebrated guide, relates in his highly animated style how the
deer behave when they are in the rut; crazy and likely to do anything.
We go off just listening to his stories.
He sets us up on good trails, ground blinds and treestands then makes
wide pushes on foot to bring them in our way.
Did
get lucky one windy spring day, as
the trade winds and the sound of the surf helped me stalk up to a group of
bedded does. They were slowly
feeding over into the thick keawe cover from a beautiful little deserted beach.
I moved ever so slowly, careful
to stay downwind. After 4
hours of steady stalking, I managed to arrow a nice grown doe for my
first successful Axis harvest with a bow.
On
Maui, where the deer were introduced in the ‘50s and are often considered a
pest, Jeff Grundhauser and Dave Kahoe get me up many times on deer at their Kula
ranch over the course of the next couple years, and patiently advise
how not to get “busted.”
Several particularly memorable shots develop.
Alas, either there are too many keen pairs of eyes to make even the
slightest of moves, the deer duck the string, or there is a limb or sprig of
grass in the way of a clean ethical shot. Several times I even start to salivate
with deer in under 15 yards. At
least I’m getting in close.
My
luck had begun to change. Maybe it was the preparation, but I like to think it
started with a big gobbler that wandered into the avocado orchard near my home
last spring. It
was the last day of turkey season, the dog was asleep, and from the top of the
stairs I saw the bearded tom turkey strutting about 200 yards away. I grabbed my bow off the rack, threw on some camo,
and worked my way up and around to
about 50 yards away behind a group of guava trees.
I
put an arrow on and came around at full draw to his tail fan.
He didn’t spot me, and the hens had their heads in the grass feeding.
Too far… can’t make the shot, so I let down, and thought about it a little while. Why not?
I’ve got the tag, it’s the last day of the season, the freezer is
empty, and the arrow is off. A
nice arc lands the arrow true and the turkey is off and running.
I recovered the turkey and
was greeted by our dog Arrow as I walked back down the hill.
My
wife April and Kyler came home from school, and Kyler wanted to see me clean
him. As I sliced off the
breast meat, ‘clink’
went the knife. In the
breast bone of the gobbler was my broken off broadhead from the previous year,
completely healed over, yet mostly intact.
I got shivers down my spine. Amazing.
Then Kyler asked, “Dad, where is his heart?”
I obliged.
There was a perfect broadhead slice in the heart, and I was surprised
again, how that critter could run 75 yards on pure determination alone.
Those
wing feathers were put aside. My
buddy Francis had shown me the value of using the lucky feathers on one’s
hunting arrows. He arrowed his first deer with an arrow I fletched from his
first turkey, in itself a story of incredible luck
On
Friday afternoon I rounded up my gear for a hunt with Jeff and Dave at Arrow One
Ranch. Their
Maui property is managed solely for bowhunting Axis deer and Mouflan
sheep.
Before
heading for the airport, I peeled off a
couple of those store bought feathers, and spliced pieces of the lucky turkey
wing onto the arrows I will hunt with over Father’s Day weekend.
We
took a quick inter island flight over and
just off the Kona shore of the Big Island,
spotted a whale late on its migration north.
A few Dads and their sons made up the crew for
Father’s day weekend. Arrow
One’s management concept includes harvesting does to increase the buck to doe
ratio. We are invited to
participate in that concept.
I’m
anxious to go. I
jumped out of the truck on the way down the hill.
Reaching for my gear I noticed the bumper sticker:
“Vegetarian, Old Indian word for lousy hunter.”
I put together my takedown recurve and snap the arrows onto the bow quiver.
The wind isn’t right for a stalk down.
Instead,
I ride down the hill and slip out of camp as the others are setting up
tents and such, and stalk into the wind up a small gully in waist deep grass.
I feel a little guilty as Grundy and
D.K. are preparing the camp and getting the grill going for dinner.
The
stalk on those deer is a considerable challenge.
The walking is not as easy as one would think.
The grass hides lava rocks for the most part, and often the stumbling,
especially when tired, keeps you from being as quiet as you need to be.
Shade
is relatively scarce, as the Keawe, an overgrown cousin to the Mesquite, is
rather spindly, and leaves lots of thorns around to make your going precarious.
It is, however, quite drought resistant, and the tender young
leaves and seeds are an important browse source for the deer.
Several
gullies dissect the property. Just as you get comfortable walking on the
waterworn rocks, one clanks and you
feel pretty clumsy. Fortunately,
there are lots of trails. The same
cover that hides the deer also offers the keen hunter a chance to stalk
undetected….if you move slowly enough.
But
that glorious afternoon the wind was good indeed.
A nice cool breeze was wafting down from Haleakala Over a small rise I glimpsed a pair of white
antler tips, amber in the pre sunset glow.
My heart started to race. I
spotted them before they saw me.
I knew I had a chance.
Good
cover and low light allowed me to drop my pack and slither in to within about 30
yards. The deer were totally
relaxed. There must
have been at least a dozen
nice big bucks, a couple still in velvet, and some spikes, does, and fawns.
A clump of spiny Panini cactus was close.
I knew I could get real good cover as I carefully slinked
inside without crunching one of the dried prickly pears and hid there
hoping it would afford me an opportunity to draw for a shot.
Then I noticed another herd coming in from the right.
The
does came first up a little draw and then right toward me.
They were real close, and
experience told me, don’t try and shoot till they pass.
So I held perfectly still. They
passed within mere feet and even looked right at me, but were not alerted. I
didn’t really have a sure shot. The
deer passed and milled about in front
of me, directly upwind.
The
arrow was on the string, but still no shot opportunity.
Then I heard a loud
CRRRRack! The two biggest
bucks were head- to- head, the
clacking gave me a chance to position for a shot while they created the
distraction. Amazing.
My heart was jumping out of my chest. They even pushed toward me and I had a clear opening, at full
draw, the vital of the losing buck perfectly exposed, less than 10 yards away.
I picked the spot……but
couldn’t take the shot. I’m wasn’t there to take a trophy.
I
chuckled to myself, and grinned wide, as the deer meandered off.
I had a few more minutes of light to watch and study, but eventually lost
it as the sun set over western Maui. On
the walk back to camp in the rising moonlight
I was reminded of my buddy Mike, who stalked a bull Elk for 36 hrs
straight. He slept out in the
cold without a sleeping bag, before making
a successful shot, and then packed
all the meat back to camp on his back.
Back
at camp no one believed I passed on such a once- in- a- lifetime opportunity.
“Guys go their whole life and never get a shot like that,” said
Grundy. I told my son
Kyler what I saw. He
was excited.
I
got to bed early, with Kyler beside
me in the tent happy as a bug in a rug in his sleeping bag.
I asked him if I could hunt early in the morning while he slept.
He said “ sure Dad.”
Miraculously
I actually slept. Visions of those spotted deer, with massive
antlers walking thru the grass, and the sounds of the screaming bucks put me
into a blissful state. It is
amazing that the place is so quiet, especially since we are on a relatively
small Island. Before dozing off, I decided that
if a shot like that came along again, I had better take it.
My
neighbor and hunting buddy Chuck and I were the first stirring in camp. It was
cool enough to make me wish I had a jacket.
We carried our coffee cups out of camp and walked down in a full
brilliant moon. I
wasn’t too hopeful, because previous hunts on full moons had been difficult at
best. With the full moon deer seem
to feed all night and move little in the day time.
But one never knows. With
the rut, which lasts from about April to end of July, anything can
happen.
We got down wind a mile or so,
and then walked into the keawe trees for a look- see. Not much action.
We split up, and agreed to work up into the breeze till it changed, and
re-group. I set up under a
big keawe as the sun rose, and made myself comfortable, hoping not to fidget.
Something caught my eye under a panini.
Was it an antler?
I
got in a little closer, and pulled out the binoculars I forgot I had.
D.K. had given them to me handed down from his father. It was the limb of
Chuck’s bow. I
chuckled.
Funny
how things can play with you out there.
Rocks look like deer, deer look like rocks, and the anticipation has a
way of tricking you.
The
light was still low enough to slink up, so I slid up to him and we marveled at
the beautiful set up. Not even a sip of water later, and the deer
were coming in. Bucks
everywhere. 40 yards, and
feeding. Soon we were nearly
surrounded. We
whispered nervously, and agreed that whoever gets a clear shot takes
it.
Then
it happened: CRRRRRAAAck! Two
big bucks were locked up, head to head. At first I couldn’t even see them.
It sounded like mortal combat. Then I saw the two gladiators, with
antlers for swords, fencing violently, sending dust and grass into the air. They were backing right toward us!
In a matter of seconds, they closed in from 40 to a mere 5 yards away,
and both Chuck and I were both at full draw.
I saw an opening and released the string.. Thunk went
the arrow and down went
the buck. Only then
did I actually see his antlers. The dominant one, which Chuck says had an
even bigger rack, stood there
thinking he must have won the battle, and Chuck tried
in vain to find a hole to shoot through.
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
I was swaying like a coconut palm in the Maui trades.
The
deer didn’t bolt. The bow was so
quiet, the cover so good they didn’t even see us.
Chuck was also quite surprised.
I’m worried he might jump up and run off injured.
I shot again to end his
suffering. The deer move on
and we uttered various exclamations….. How amazing it was to see such a thing.
We wished we would have had a camera.
I
got down eye to eye with the fallen Monarch.
“Thank you my friend, for giving me your life.
The same forces that rule this world will some day take my life.
I thank you for feeding my family.
It’s taken a long time indeed.
I will honor you.”
I
telephoned D.K. and asked him to wake Kyler and bring him down on the quad.
I left a trail of my 2 bent lucky turkey feather shafts and they found me finishing up the field-dressing.
My
son jabbered with excitement. He knew how
hard we practiced. I told him
he could have made the shot.
Dave took the photo and we
loaded the deer up. I
walked back to camp. It
didn’t fully sink in till I reached the skinning shed.
Grundy
was aptly skinning our deer, and
there was a buzz about camp. Rick
shook my hand and called the deer a
gorilla. It weighed 140
dressed. We calculated 180 to 190 live weight.
Good size for an Axis, for sure. Chris
saw he saw the deer the evening
before, with an even bigger buck and noticed its atypical 7th tine.
Eric relates how he had a close shot opportunity at a big one too,
but had the arrow fall off the rest.
D.K.
wielded the knife after we hung the
deer to cool. He carefully packed the
venison on ice, and
we made room for a Mouflan Chuck
arrowed at 40 yards.
As
the wind picked up in the afternoon I asked Kyler if he would like to go see if
we can spot some deer. I was apprehensive.
It’s hard enough to stalk these deer alone much less with a 7 yr old
bundle of energy.
But
sure enough, we sat down in the shade of a small keawe in a clump of grass.
Within a few minutes, as we were drinking some water, a group of deer
came into view. 75 yards away
were a couple spikes, a couple does, a
fawn or two and several big bucks. I
raised Kyler up on my knee. They
wandered along, feeding, and the
Mac Daddy himself stopped and looked right at us .
Kyler whispered “wow Dad,
look at that!”
I
whispered to him not to even blink. He
was captivated. The
deer moved on, and then something spooked them.
They ran
right by us, huge racks raked backward at top speed and we were fully
elated by the awesome spectacle.
We
got up and slowly made our way into the wind.
Then we heard a roaring
scream.
“What
is that Dad?”
“That’s
a big buck ready for a wahine” I
whispered. “Let’s see if we can get up on him.”
We
worked our way up a trail, and Kyler followed in my exact footsteps.
At about 80 yards we spied a decent pile of about 30.
We stopped, rested, and make a plan.
“OK,”
I whispered, “we have to be
super quiet and slow. Lets
see if we can get up to that keawe and stay in the shadows.
The full sun will give us away.”
We
somehow made it up to 30 yards and sat. We were both dripping beads of sweat .
The deer were un-aware.
They meandered off to the side and when behind a clump of
cactus we stood and I put an arrow on the string.
My thinking was maybe a doe would come out, but to our surprise, the
monster buck walked out from behind the cactus. He stopped at 25 yards, broadside, and even looked away.
It was a classic textbook shot. .
I was at full draw, on the spot, with my son at my side whispering
“shoot Dad, shoot”.
We
practiced like that the week before.
I was hoping for a moment like this. This was even better than I
had hoped for. I held long enough
to realize I didn’t need this deer. No
need to get greedy. I let
down. He walked on.
“Kyler,
I didn’t shoot because we already have our deer.
We don’t need to kill him. He
will be there for another day. I
hope you understand.”
He
shrugged it off, more concerned about how hungry and tired he was,
and how we were still an hour or so uphill walk from cool, shady camp.
Humbling
lessons learned from hunting those magnificent deer? For us bowhunters it’s
not about killing. If it was we would all be shooting rifles.
One thinks about the preparation, the building and fine tuning of the
arrows and other equipment, the endless practice arrows, the loving support of
the wife to let one go off looking for deer.
Each
time I return from hunting my senses are hyper-
sensitive. Everyday noises and smells seem more vivid.
I wonder how much our senses are dulled in this mechanized world we live
in. Drinking all that water,
and eating sparingly seems a good way to go on a daily basis.
It takes a while to get back to a regular work clock, with normal waking
times. I’m motivated to practice
even more.
In
this modern world, with
shrink-wrapped selections neatly
packed by our local grocery store, it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that
those animals died for our sustenance.
Yet,
to entirely live off the game one harvests with a bow in the field is a
formidable challenge.
When we have success we tend to think we’re learning how to make it happen, but I’m beginning to think it’s more about plentiful game, the right wind, patience, and a whole lot of luck.
David Weaver also owns and operates Axis Hawaii Bows: Maker of great local Hawaii traditional archery equipment and woodwork. http://www.axisbows.com
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