It happened like this. I caught this tough guy breaking and entering into the bird feeder. I gave him a verbal warning, and told him, next time, I'll shoot first and ask questions later! He did a superman out of the feeder about 10ft off the ground. I was impressed, but meant what I said.
My next encounter with him, I tried to sneak out the screen door, but he busted me. I gave him a warning shot into the dirt behind him after another superman.
I'm sure he made several more visits, undetected, throughout the week. One morning, I was standing in the kitchen, looking out the window, when I saw him trying to sneak in. I grabbed the bow, and headed out the front door. I got myself into position on the side of the house and waited. In he came, stopping for the easy grub on the ground before he climbed up to the feeder. As I was getting ready to draw my bow, the wind shifted, and the jig was up! As he started to bolt towards the woods, my arrow flew. A little high and behind.
Our next meeting, he wouldn't be so lucky!
I was walking along the drive on the side of the house, and I saw the little booger cleaning up after the birds again. I know that he saw me, because he paused for a second, as if to see if I noticed him. I went around the front of the house, taking note of the wind, grabbed the bow, and snuck around the side that I had just walked up. The stalk was on. This side provided good cover for my approach. When I had gone as far as cover would allow, I had to be very careful with my movements. I knew that if I just leaned out for the shot and surprised him, he'd be outta there like a bullet shot from a gun. So I just waited and watched. Only making the smallest of movements when he was preoccupied, with his head down. I was finally able to get a clear shot and into position. It was a far shot at 17yards on that tiny kill zone, but as I watched the arrow arc beautifully to the spot I was aiming, I knew the shot was true. With a resounding whack, the steel blunt found its mark, tight behind the front shoulder. I was astonished to see him get back to his feet and run off with my arrow still in him! As he jumped into a cedar tree, the arrow fell out and he began to spill blood. When I approached for a second shot, he still had enough life to try for a final escape. He scurried out of the tree, and into the tall grass. Luckily, my faithful companion was only a short ways away, and his nose led us directly to my quarry's final resting place underneath some old railroad ties.
It was a hard fought battle, but in the end I was rewarded with a fine trophy, and some tasty pan fried squirrel nuggets. (That's a 29.5" BOP arrow, and a 60" bow!)
