Choices. We frequently make them throughout various stages in our lives. Sometimes they’re easy and at other times they’re hard, but regardless of this, we still have to make them. Usually we have time to think through the choices we make, but at times we must decide in an instant.

Morality and ethics always go hand in hand with our choices. We must often make a conscious decision of whether or not we’re going to be ethical in this area. There’s no fence sitting in these situations. You must not only pick a one-way path, but be willing to live with its consequences. In hunting, we’re faced with these ethical and moral choices each time we enter the woods.

For instance, my buddy Randy and I were on a late season bow hunting trip to Sherburne WMA in Iberville Parish this past January. I had taken two does, a six-point, and eight-point with my bow so far that season, while Randy had taken a doe and a three-point. I had passed on several nice six pointers in hopes of closing out the season with a nice buck on my last buck tag. That day we made the hour and forty minute drive to Sherburne after church, just to do a little scouting for the next day’s bow hunt.

We spent the afternoon looking for sign, but little was found to make us want to get up extra early and drive back out there. We decided to try one more spot before calling it a day, as the light was fading fast. Randy and I split up a couple of hundred yards apart and each entered along a small slough. I had not gone 50 yards into the woods, when I heard a crack and immediately saw a nice six-point buck and a doe about 70 yards away. They had not yet seen me, so I froze for a few moments. I took one step and that was enough for them to bolt down and across the slough.

I walked over to where they crossed, and before I could really look to see where they had gone, I heard something big running through the woods behind me. I turned, and within seconds a buck with a basket sized, eight-point rack was running directly at me. When I raised my bow, the buck saw me and stopped. He was in shooting range, but I could not see his vitals. I took one step to my right and he was off and running again. He then proceeded onward and jumped the same slough as the other two deer. I quickly pulled out my grunt call and tried to entice him back, but to no avail.

Within a minute, I could hear a buck raking his antlers on a tree across the creek, but the strange thing was, it was in a completely different direction from where the eight-point had disappeared. About that time my walkie-talkie started vibrating, as Randy was attempting to call me. I ignored the buzz, as I was sure he was calling to see if the buck he had jumped had come by me. I continued to grunt on and off, but the noise ceased and that was it. As I walked back to the road to meet up with Randy, I called him on the radio. He replied, “Have I got a story for you!”

I confidently countered, “I’m sure mine is even better! See you at the truck.”

When I got to the truck, Randy was not there. I looked down the trail into the woods and he called out to me, “Come help me drag out my buck!” I thought he was kidding, but he assured me he was not. His story was about to blow mine away.

This is what happened when he had entered the woods: he had gone in a ways and was standing, looking, and listening, when he heard what sounded like several deer running towards him. It was five young bucks: a six-point, two four-points, and two spikes. They ran right at him with the six-point and one of the four-points peeling off away from him. As the other 3 came running by, Randy drew and shot the last one—a spike—at 10 yards. He hit him and the buck went down within sight.