Hunters' Best Friend - The Crow
By Jon Nystrom

Ever thought a crow could help a bowhunter? The answer is yes.

It's 4:30 AM and I'm sitting in my usual booth waiting for my breakfast. The menu is getting as old as this year's bowhunting season. I know the waitress by her first name, Susan. Even the dishwasher says hi each morning as I trudge into this small town restaurant. Thus is the life of the retired. I thought once I retired I would get to do all the hunting I ever wanted to do. I could search out any buck that I wanted to hunt, do the research and hunt just him. How long could it take! The results each hunting season would be to harvest a bigger buck than the year before. Everything was perfect until this morning.

Sitting across from me in another booth was a bowhunter. We nodded in the usual way when bowhunters encounter one another. I wasn't in the mood to talk. Not after what had happened the night before. Our food hadn't come yet and I was hoping he wouldn't start talking to me. I knew it was just a matter of time and then he said "How's the hunting goin?". We did the usual hunters' small talk and then he asked if he might join me for breakfast. The conversation had loosened me up a bit so I said "Sure".

I hesitated telling him about my failure the night before but somehow by talking about it, I knew it would make me feel better. I think the bowhunter could tell that something was on my mind. My story just began spilling out. The night before I entered my tree stand like most every other night. I had been seeing a lot of bucks since the rut was in full swing. The one buck I was hunting had not shown himself yet but I was seeing his tracks regularly in the snow. I knew it was just a matter of time. It had been an unusually cold fall but I had learned many years ago about layering, walking slow and playing the wind. It wasn't long before deer started to appear. First a doe and two fawns, then a spike and a small six. Pretty much some of the same deer I had been seeing all season. No sooner did I ask myself "Will the big boy ever come by?" he appeared out of nowhere. He was content on chasing the doe and he didn't have a clue I was there. As soon as he stops, I'll take my shot. I waited for what seemed like an eternity and then I let my arrow fly. As soon as I let go, I knew I had made a bad shot. He was quartering towards me. Why didn't I wait a second longer. Why!

I kept thinking positive. I waited three long hours and began my search. It didn't take me long to accept my worst fear. No blood, probably a shoulder hit. I was so disappointed. The bowhunter now sitting across from me hadn't said a word. He could tell how bad I felt. He then asked me "Are you going to look for him this morning?". I was surprised and was caught off guard a little bit. I told him that I had looked a lot the night before and I felt there was no hope.

He then told me about a bowhunter that he knew had done the same thing a few years ago. It was a 40 yard shot that he should never of taken and hit him in the shoulder. This bowhunter looked in earnest but couldn't find the buck. Well, our breakfast had come but I didn't care. I wanted to know if that bowhunter ever found his deer.

My breakfast partner said that this bowhunter didn't seem to care that he didn't find the buck. My new friend said, "I was a little surprised and asked him about it". "The bowhunter with the wounded buck replied, "Tomorrow the crows will tell me where he is". My breakfast partner was dumbfounded and replied back, "Crows! What are you talking about?". The bowhunter with the wounded buck invited him to tag along the next morning so he did. My breakfast partner continued with the story, "The next morning we went to the last spot of blood that we had found the night before and just sat down. He told me to be quiet and not to say anything or move to much. 30 minutes later I started to hear the crows. First one, then another. Cawing back and forth until finally it seemed all of the cawing was coming from one area. This wily bowhunter got up and started walking toward the cawing. As we approached the crows took flight from the trees. We walked right up to his buck. I couldn't believe it."

My breakfast was cold but I didn't care. I asked him "Do you think that would work for me?". He said it might and it wouldn't hurt to try. I gobbled down my eggs and we said our good-bye's. I now had new life in me with a mission and some hope. I was hoping and praying that the crows around here were related some how to that other bowhunter's crows. . The sun was coming up and I quickly put my gear on. As if it was an omen, a crow flew right over my truck. I didn't think I could move as fast as I did at that very moment. I got to the last blood and sat down. Twenty minutes went by and nothing, then 30 and finally 40 minutes before I heard the first crow. "It's amazing", I thought. I never really heard them before or I zoned them out. Now, as they flew by, I realized that if you really listen, you can here their wings flapping. It was an hour before I started towards them. I was trying not to build myself up too much in case this didn't work. As I approached the area where I thought the crows were, I spotted my buck. He hadn't expired yet but he was so stiff he couldn't get up. I walked up and finished him off. I was thrilled to say the least..

It was good fortune that I had run into that bowhunter. Was it the crows that lead me to my buck or was it just a coincidence? I'll never really know for certain. The next morning I was at that small town restaurant hoping that bowhunter would stop again for breakfast. I wanted to thank him for all his help and tell him that I got my buck. Of course he wasn't there. That's why I decided to write this story. To say "Ben, if you read this story, thanks for your help. I couldn't have done it without you".