 She
carefully used every bit of cover as she stalked the Mouflon rams in the
dense Texas Hill Country. I watched from a distance as she finally came
to within 35 yards, stood, came to full draw and after several tense seconds,
released her arrow. It flew right under the chest of the lead Mouflon
ram and quickly they scampered away?
"Uncle Bob, I want to go hunting," she said one day. It took me completely by surprise and it wasn't until after talking with my brother that I found he had bought her a shotgun and she quickly became an avid dove hunter. Sometimes she and her boyfriend (now husband) would go hunting together and inevitably she brought home more birds than he did. So I bought her a Parker Brothers bow, and on my next trip to Texas, I presented her with the camouflaged hunting bow. Within hours, we were at Clyde's Archery Lanes in Corpus Christi, fitting her for a mechanical release and arrows. Danielle listened intently when I instructed her on proper form, and then release of the arrow. She pulled back the 35-pound bow, set at her 24-inch draw and sighted through her eyepiece. "Thunck," the arrow hit the target, about eight inches from center. After releasing four more arrows to determine a "group," we went downrange and inspected her shots. They weren't near the center, but the "group" was remarkably close for a first-time shooter. "How do you feel?" I queried. "Good," she replied with a perplexed look on her face as she viewed the arrows. "It's okay, I'll re-set your sights for you and we'll try it again if it's not too hard for you to pull the bow for some more shots," I remarked, trying not to take away from her excitement. I also didn't want her to strain herself the first time she used the bow. At that point I really didn't understand her determination. I watched her form with a critical eye. Her elbow came up high, straight behind her ponytail and I observed as she took in a breath, let it out slowly, concentrated on her sights, and released. There was no break in form and I was surprised. I had her take out two more arrows and again watched as she released down-range. When we walked to her target, she had one arrow in the black, and two touching the white ring! A beatific smile creased her face as I offered congratulations. After some further minute tuning of her sights, I again handed Danielle the bow and stood back as she prepared to shoot. Her mouth tightened in concentration, a small frown furrowed her brow and without a word, she placed her arrow, took her shooting stance and drew her bow. Like a longtime ritual, she stared through the eyepiece, took a breath, let it out and squeezed her release. The "thunck" of her arrow pierced the quiet and then she reached for another arrow. After two more shots, she looked my way, placed her bow in the rack and began walking toward the target. This time all three arrows were centered in the black bulls' eye of the target set at 20 yards. I smiled as I thought of how many hours it had taken me before I was shooting that well. "Uncle Bob, I really want to go hunting," she said to me as we pulled the arrows. "I want to go hunting with you." "Danielle, I'll have to check my schedule and see when I can take some time and take you," I replied. "But I want you to practice. In a month, I want you to tell me that you're shooting 100 arrows every other day. I want you to get comfortable with your bow, get your muscles used to it, and to know that you're hitting the target. But I'll also tell you that shooting at a live animal, in the woods, is a lot different than shooting at a target. I'm just warning you that a lot of people can't do that." Days turned into weeks and two months later when I called my brother he demanded, "When are you coming to take Danielle hunting? She's been asking about you almost every day. I hope you haven't forgotten." Shortly after hanging up with him I was on the phone to Gwen Hughes, of the Rio Bonito Ranch, near Junction, Texas. After several phone calls back and forth, setting up a schedule that would work for all of us, I met my brother Roy, his wife Pat, and Danielle at the Rio Bonito Ranch during October. Danielle went to bed but couldn't sleep. In the mornings cold, I took Danielle to where a 3-D deer target was setup for practice shooting. Emplacing 90-grain "Gametracker" Tri-loc broadheads on her hunting arrows, re-setting her bow for a 45-pound pull, I had Danielle shoot from 20 yards. Her first shots were high-and-left. Adjusting her sights again, she shot again. It wasn't until after her third arrow released that I noticed her hands were turning blue from the cold. Her form was not clean and crisp as before, and her arrows were not in the same close grouping that I was used to. "Are you okay?" I queried. "I'm cold," she replied. "It's okay, we'll shoot just a couple more and then go inside," I replied. "It'll be warmer by the time you get out there." "I'm not shooting well today," she said with a frown. "You're cold, you're tense and you didn't get much sleep," I replied. "Just relax, you're going to be just fine. We'll get some food in you and you'll quit trembling like you are." After breakfast, Jim Voulgaris, Rio Bonito's lead guide took us out in our assigned vehicle to her hunting site. "You're going to have this pasture to yourself," informed Voulgaris. "We purposefully put hunters in other parts of the ranch so that you're not disturbed. These animals are free-ranging, meaning that they can roam anywhere in this area, about 50 acres," he continued. "But we've decided that this might be good opportunity for you to try your luck, I understand you don't have a week to hunt. So good luck." After more than an hour driving around in the hunter-modified vehicle, Danielle saw the Mouflon rams through her Nikon binoculars. "There, Uncle Bob, over there," she said excitedly as she pointed toward a mesquite-covered hill. "Do you see them?" At a signal to the guide, we left the vehicle and Danielle, now armed with her bow and arrows took a tangent toward the unsuspecting goats. Mouflon have wonderful eyesight and a keen sense of smell. It didn't surprise me that she had selected one of the most difficult animals to hunt ? on her first try. In a quiet whisper I instructed Danielle to check the wind. With her Chek-Rite in hand she blew a tiny burst of powder in the air. Yes, we were approaching down-wind. I let her stalk closer, hanging back so as not to disturb her, or cause more movement for the Mouflon to see. I watched in admiration as she followed the instructions her guide and I had given her earlier. She moved quietly, slowly, using ground cover to her best efforts. Several times the Mouflon raised their heads from grazing and when they turned in her direction, Danielle immediately froze, even when behind cover. "I spotted the one I knew I wanted, the Mouflon," Danielle said later. "I began to stalk this beautiful animal. Finally I felt that I might be close enough to take my shot. I drew my bow back and took my shot. The arrow landed on the ground by its feet! The Mouflon immediately took off!" She turned toward me crestfallen and I approached from where I had been observing. "Hey, you did great!" I exclaimed. "Danielle, you tried your luck at one of the most difficult animals there is to stalk, and you came within bow-range of it. You missed, so what. Everybody misses. "Let's go find your arrow and we'll see if we can't find them again," I continued. "I saw them moving toward that hill over there, do you want to see if you can get close again?" As we retrieved her arrow, I asked again, "Do you want to try again?" The glare I got told me that she wasn't quitting. She was just getting started. We followed their sign for a distance until I caught movement. I quickly sat on my haunches, drew her close and pointed. "I don't think they've seen us," I whispered. "Go that way, to the right, move slowly and see if you can get close again." I again watched as she began her stalk. I moved back to where the guide stood with binoculars raised. "She stalks real well," he opined. "She doesn't rush and she's careful. Hell, most men don't stalk that well," he said. Several hours later we watched as she traversed hills and then around almost bare ground as she followed the Mouflon. They were now wary of this camouflage-clad nuisance that seemed to follow them around like a tumbleweed. But they always moved away, slightly out of bow range as the sun reached it's zenith. Toward noontime, Voulgaris and I whistled to get Danielle's attention. As she looked we waved her to return to the vehicle along a dirt trail where we had observed her from about a one-half mile distance. As she hiked back and got close, I offered her a soft drink. "We've got to go back to the Lodge," I informed. "Jim has to get gas and check in on the other hunters. How do you feel?" She nodded that she felt all right, but I could sense the frustration in her sweat-soaked face and hair. My admiration for her grew. She was hot, tired and sweaty, but she wasn't ready to stop. Now she was determined to shoot something. I wanted to be careful that it might not be me. Later in the afternoon as I tried my hand at some hunting of my own, Danielle's mother, Pat, went along with the guide to watch, hoping to see her daughter hunt an animal. In another part of the pasture, Danielle saw something white through the brush. "Jim, over there," she pointed. As Voulgaris pulled over, moments later Danielle was stalking again. Guide and mother watched as Danielle checked the wind and then circled toward where she had caught movement. "I immediately spotted the best looking one. It was a 'Texas Dahl,' pure white with a large mane and a wonderful horn-spread," related Danielle. "I decided that I wanted to take it. I began to stalk my ram. I slowly got closer and closer. I was close enough and the Dahl was almost in perfect position. I had to wait because they were kind of bunched up under the trees. It moved and in an instant I got a broadside view, I knew I could take my shot. I drew back my bow and the animal looked up. As I stared at him he stared back. I concentrated, and then let go. I just knew that it was a good shot. I didn't hesitate. The ram took about six steps, ran in a circle then dropped." "I had looked down into my purse to get something," said Pat. "I heard a slight noise and realized that Danielle had shot. It wasn't until Jim jumped up that I knew she had killed it." "It was picture-perfect," remarked Voulgaris excitedly. "She waited 'til she got her shot, took her time and then shot it. It made a half circle and then just kind of came back towards her, and dropped. It didn't go 15 yards after she shot him. It was perfect. I wish I had it on video!" "As I rode back to the ranch I was on top of the world,' said Danielle with a smile. "I knew in that instant that the gift of the bow, was a gift of a lifetime." That evening when I showed up at the Lodge, as I stepped down into the Living Room where everyone was gathered, I didn't have time to ask if Danielle had gotten her chance. Before I could ask, I heard a collective, "She got one!" from the gathering of hunters. Moments later I was being hugged and I looked down, the grin on her face told the whole story. My "niece" was now a bowhunter. Later as we returned to the Lodge, she said," You've changed my life.
I'll be back. Except next time I'll get my Mouflon."
Happy Hunting! Bob Torres
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