Register  | Login
  Search
TOP STORIES
Feature

Current Articles | Search | Syndication


The Lost Shall Be Found

Trent LedbetterBy Trent Ledbetter

-- Two days into the muzzleloader season, I had yet to get a deer and they guys were riding me pretty hard. I had seen more deer than ever during bow season, but they always stayed just out of range.

I didn’t have a muzzleloader, but I borrowed one from a friend. It was his only gun, and he was an avid blackpowder hunter, so I had just one evening after work to make good.

For two days I held a back-and-forth debate with myself about where to sit. My friend called me 10 minutes before I walked out the door from work, and I told him about my dilemma. He told me to find a creek and sit by it. It just so happened that one of the places I was thinking about hunting was in a creek bottom.

So at 2:30 that evening, I was 30 feet up a pine tree, enjoying the peace. As the hours ticked away, all I saw was an armadillo. My hopes of killing my first buck of the season were slipping away as fast as the daylight. I began to kick myself for my stand selection when, not a second after that thought ran through my head, I heard the leaves crunch.

My heart started to pound and my breath got short. There was a deer moving in right in front of me, but it was so think I still couldn’t see anything. The footsteps got louder as the deer got closer.

Then I saw the antlers! Just two more steps and the buck would be in the open.

I found him the shoulder in my scope as the buck made another step closer. When I clicked the safety, it jerked its head up and looked right at me. "BOOM!"

When the smoke cleared, the buck was nowhere in sight, but I could hear it running along the creek bottom.

I wanted to find some kind of information before dark, so I hurried down and went to look. Not 15 yards from the stand, I found a pool of think, dark red blood, and my heart sank: gut shot.

I went home and enlisted the help of my wife and my Paw Paw to help track. We only went 25 yards or so before the blood quit. I suggested we go to church and give the buck even more time. The Lord didn’t have my full attention during that service, except during my prayers asking that I find that buck.

When the service was over, I went to my buddy’s house and got his trail dog. Katie (the dog) pulled us through the thickest mess of briars and brush I have ever seen. I wasn’t seeing any blood and thought we might be on the wrong trail.

Just as I was ready to pull her off the trail to start over, my brother-in-law said, "What’s that?" I shined the light ahead, and there was my buck piled up in the brush. It was a short celebration, because it didn’t take long for somebody to point out that we had no idea where we were. Thank the Lord we’re church-going people because even though things looked hopeless, we knew that those who are lost and believe shall be found.

Trent Ledbetter
Jay, Fla.

Comments
Retweet
Pay Your Bill Online Google+ Buckmasters on Pinterest Follow Us On Instagram! LinkedIn Buckmasters on YouTube Follow Us On Twitter Buckmasters on Facebook!