Bow Hunting And Pumpkin Pie – A Tragedy

Written by:  Dayne Shuda
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Each fall I look forward to bow hunting in the rolling wooded hills and fields of western Wisconsin.

For 10 years I hunted in the famed Buffalo County. It was a 500 acre hunter’s playground. With 6 to 7 bow hunters each weekend in October and November, there was plenty of space for each one of us.

Hunting in such a great place and seeing bucks and does so regularly can give a hunter the false sense of believing that one is a smart, accomplished hunter.

Well one season, this hunter was taught a very important lesson in humility.

I loved going to that farm for 3 basic reasons: the hunting (of course), the camaraderie, and the food.

Hunting camp gives men, both old and young, a weekend to gorge on mashed potatoes, tons of venison, eggs, bacon, brownies, and my personal favorite – pies. 

My love of pie goes back a long way. I can remember my grandma standing me on a chair in her kitchen as she would roll homemade pie crusts and let me help put in the filling. She has always made the best pies. I think she had one every time I went to visit.

Anyway, back to the farm.

There was a place that made great pies between the farm in Fountain City and Onalaska where my uncle and a few of the other guys lived. Someone would always stop and pick up 2 or 3 pies each weekend.

It was a great treat.

And the pumpkin pie is and always will be my favorite.

The Story

The story that follows I’ve never told any of the others in my former hunting group including my Dad the following story. You are the first to hear about how a cocky kid with a love for pumpkin pie was taught a valuable lesson in humility.

I was sixteen years old and was now able to drive myself the three hours over to my Uncle’s farm.  As some of you may know, a license to drive also comes with the incorrect belief that we, as sixteen year olds, are all-knowing.

When I was sixteen I was sure I knew all there was to know about hunting. By this time I had shot my first buck (an 8-pointer; with the help of my Dad when I was twelve) and one or two does including one with a bow.

I thought I was the ultimate hunter.

One evening in late October the boys headed out to the hunting spots.

I was taking longer than usual because I had a mission – I wanted to wrap up a piece of pumpkin pie in clear plastic wrap so I could have a little snack while on stand.

This is just what I did. I slipped the pie into my pocket and made haste so I wouldn’t run out of light.

I headed down to the very bottom of one of the valleys on the farm. Why I put that stand so far down in the valley is anybody’s guess. Again, I thought I knew what I was doing.

Anyway, I headed down to the bottom of the valley and got setup.

I no sooner got into my stand to sit down when I heard the crack of a stick – one of the greatest sounds a hunter can hear in the woods. I slowly turned my head in the direction of the sound. I saw two young fawns with their mother not far behind.

The three deer made their way past my stand and then bedded down about 40 yards away.

The doe bedded down last and soon fixed her eyes right on me (some hiding spot!).

After a 20 minute staring contest with the doe I realized she wasn’t too fearful of me so I slowly moved my hand to my pocket to grab the pumpkin pie.

“What the…?!?”

As I reached into my pocket, I found nothing.

I looked back on the logging road I had walked in on – there it was!

My neatly wrapped piece of pie was lying in the middle of the old logging road.

I was stuck. I couldn’t get down for the pie because I would scare the three deer bedded down not far from my stand. I would have to go hungry for the evening.

I sat for awhile and the doe and fawns stayed.

All of a sudden I heard a short snort. Another sound of great importance to all hunters!

Here came a dandy 10-point buck down the same logging road I had walked in on!

I slowly prepared for a shot. I had to be careful so as to not alert the three deer bedded down nearby. I caught a glance of the doe and she was zeroed in on the buck.

This was going to work out I thought. The buck is going to walk within 20 yards of me and I’ll soon have my first buck with a bow.

Next, the unthinkable happened…

I looked ahead of the buck’s path and my stomach dropped.

The buck was heading right for the unnatural plastic-wrapped piece of pumpkin pie.

I knew it was over.

The buck soon recognized the abnormal package. He stomped a few times; sniffed a little and then bolted out of there.

The other three deer were close to follow.

What a dope I had been.

My glutton had ruined my chances of getting a great buck.

A few minutes later I got down from my stand.

I stopped to pick up the piece of pie – still in the wrapping.

I made it back to my car and figured I may as well enjoy the pie.

For obvious reasons, the pie was not as good as I had remembered.

I got back to camp and each of the boys recapped their night.

When my turn came to share how many I had seen I said, “Oh, I had a doe with two fawns come in early. And I think I heard a buck grunt, but I never saw him.”

Yep, I was too embarrassed to share.

To this day I still love pumpkin pie, but these days, especially during hunting season, the taste is bittersweet with a slight hint of humble in every delicious bite.

Tagged as: bow hunting, buck, Deer Hunting, doe, hunting, pumpkin pie