By Ed B. Waite Jr.

"Limpy" first appeared in Don Ehling's Hamilton, Ohio, neighborhood five years ago. The young doe's hind leg had been broken at some point. It had healed, but was essentially useless. Crippled, but by no means barren, Limpy enjoys a protected status among the 18 families who live there.

She feeds in the yards daily, and shows little fear of her human benefactors.

The horseshoe-shaped neighborhood surrounds a deep wooded depression with a creek at its center. Most of the lots are big, between 5 and 6 acres, and branch away from the drainage like spokes on a wheel.

Whenever Don, 70, wants to hunt close to home, he'll take his bow into the hub. He isn't the only hunter who ventures in there, but he has more time than most. Being retired has its advantages.

On Jan. 19, 2007, he decided to spend the evening in his 22-foot-high ladder stand and slipped into the bowl behind his home.

"It was cold, about 31 degrees, and quite windy, probably 15 to 20 mph, but I was only 100 yards or so down the ridge. If I got too cold, it would be an easy walk back to the house," he said.

Although limbs helped deflect the wind's assault, Don was freezing.

"I'd been in the tree more than an hour and had seen nothing," he said. "I was getting very cold, trying my best to hang in there until after sunset. And then I saw Limpy. She was moving along well below and parallel to the ridge. Her normal travel lane was much higher. I couldn't understand why she would be down that far. As she passed below me, I kind of tipped my hat and wished her well."

Before disappearing, the doe stopped about 40 yards away, turned and stared back in Don's direction. He originally thought she was looking at him, and he worried that she might expose him.

One of the advantages of being 70 and retired is that Don Ehling can hunt almost every day of Ohio's season. And he doesn't have to travel far to do it. He shot this rascal within a short hike from his own back door.

"I was sure she was going to bust me," he said. "All the while, I was getting colder and wanted to get down. At the same time, I did not want her to see me.

"After what seemed a very long time, I decided I would launch an arrow into the woods beyond her and hopefully spook her so she would leave," Don continued. "I nocked an arrow, and, just as I put my fingers on the string, spotted something behind me. I turned to look -- where Limpy had been looking all along -- and caught sight of a buck. I hoped it was the 10-pointer I had been holding out for all season."

Lucky for Don, it was no such luck.

"When I turned my head fully, I saw this buck with a double main beam and knew immediately that it was a shooter. I also knew I didn't want to look at that rack anymore, so I carefully backed up against one of the tree limbs and made a very gentle turn to face the oncoming deer," he said.

"I came to full draw as the big whitetail crossed the 15-yard mark I had planted in my mind. But I couldn't get on the buck because the wind was causing the tree to sway severely. My pins were moving all over the place."

His pins never really stopped moving, so Don decided to release an arrow as they passed over the sweet spot. After the arrow smacked it, the buck jumped high in the air before spinning around and bolting for the bottom of the drainage. 

"I watched as closely as I could as it ran away," he said. "I then let a second arrow fly to mark the spot where I lost sight of the fleeing buck. Afterward, I stayed in the tree until I was sure it was safe to get down and walk to where my marker arrow was sticking in the ground. I immediately found a blood trail."

Rather than follow the sign, Don returned to his house, where he shared the story with his wife, Carole. Armed with flashlights, the two of them began tracking the deer an hour later.

"I was following a good blood trail and occasionally shining the light around in hopes of spotting the deer and cutting the tracking time," Don said. "At one point, I saw some tree limbs sticking up behind a blowdown, but I decided that's just what they were, so I continued to follow the blood until it stopped. Wondering if I'd somehow passed by the animal, I turned and started back to the last sign. That's when I saw the white belly up against the blowdown. The deer was on its side, and the points were sticking up just like broken limbs.

"An old hunting buddy taught me that when you harvest animal, you get down on one knee and thank the maker for the experience. This deer was unquestionably a two-knee animal," he continued.

As soon as Carole joined him, Don realized that he'd neglected to bring his knife.

"I didn't want to leave my deer for fear the coyotes would find it before we could get back," he said. "So I did the only thing I could: I left my wife to guard the deer while I retrieved the tools.

"On the way to the house, I called my neighbor, Bill, to ask for help. He has a four-wheeler. He and his wife were just settling into their seats at the movie theater when I called, and they expected to be home by 11:00."

After field-dressing the deer, Don covered it with everything at hand, including his and his wife's coats, his hunting pack and some tree limbs and leaves. He figured the human scent would keep the coyotes at bay for at least a few hours. Afterward, he and Carole went back to the house to wait.

With Bill's help, they eventually loaded the deer and brought it back to Don's garage.

BTR Score: 204

--Ed B. Waite Jr.
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