Caribou Bow Hunt

The bedded stag lay silent as he tested the wind. My guide Daren and I sat at 91 yards. We had come to a dead end in our stalk for this beautiful animal. We had finally (after a mile trek) run out of cover in the Newfoundland underbrush. "What do you want me to do, Jim?" Daren asked. "You stay here, I'm going to circle around him and come up from behind on his down wind. I'll need you to give me signals to be aware of what he is doing as I make my stalk," I replied.

With these words, I was off. It took me an hour to back track circle and get into position. With a mere 15 yards to go, I looked back at Daren and he have me the big OK. As i crawled by a bush, I caught a glimpse of a set of antlers. "Oh no, BUSTED!" I thought. I slid across to the next brush and slowly peeked to evaluate the situation. Through the brush I could see he was now up on his feet looking in my direction. I quickly dropped down, got out for arrows and looked back at Daren. He was waving for me to come back towards him. Unsure of my situation, and not knowing what the Stag was doing, I moved back to where i have come I saw antlers bobbling up and down. he was going to circle ME and get MY wind.

I nocked an arrow, picked up my ranger finder and ranged a boulder just in front of him. The distance was 25 yards. Watching through the finder, I saw him look right at me, But his body was till behind the boulder offering no shot. I froze. I was sitting on the ground so he must have thought I was a stump. "Come on out!" I thought to myself. He must have read my mind because he just did that.

I put my range finder on his forehead and it read 26 yards. He was quartering towards me, but still no shot." Open up a little more big guy" I thought. Then he did.

He turned just enough for me to get one lung. That was enough. "No problem," I thought. I already had three more arrows on the ground for back up.

I slowly lowered the range finder and raised my bow. The stag watched motionless. As I drew my 61-pound recurve to a full draw, I could see Daren in the background. What Daren saw next was a real treat for him. He had never seen a Caribou shot with a bow The hunters he guided for at Lee's Camps had tried in the past, but were unsuccessful. He now had a ringside seat and I provided his entertainment.

As I released the 2216 Eastern arrow shaft, tipped with a 145 grain Bear razor broad head, Daren witnessed the shaft exit the animal displaying a complete pass through shot through the vitals. Before the animal knew what hit him, I have my second arrow nocked and was on my feet, Slowing the distance on the Stag as fast as I could Run. This is a common exercise I have practiced on big game. As he bolted down the bench, I caught him 35 yards at full bore and my second arrow was in the air sailing slightly over his back. I gave a loud grunt, which all but stopped him and my third arrow once gain slide by ever so close. My forth and last arrow found its mark taking him behind the shoulder at 50.

The stag was now over a knoll and out of sight. "I'll go high Jim and keep an eye on him!" Daren exclaimed. "Ok, I'll take the blood trail, that's where I do best!" I said. I tracked good blood for about 250 yards. As I rounded the corner of the scrub bush, I looked to my right and saw Daren. We had spotted the caribou simultaneously. Knowing the hunt was a triumph Daren and I gave a bellow that echoed clear to greenland. I ran to my trophy. "What an animal Daren" I exclaimed. I began to shaked like I usually do after it's over and there was a tear of gratitude in there somewhere.

As bow hunters do, I gave Daren a body slam and a high five in appreciation for all his efforts.