Bill Marchel: Death in the wild provokes thought

BRAINERD - "What's that over there in the rice?" I said as a friend and I motored toward our duck hunting spot. "It looks like a dead deer."

It was midafternoon on a sunny and balmy day a week ago when I spotted the carcass floating about 30 yards from a heavily wooded shoreline of a sprawling wild rice-filled bay just off the main channel of the Mississippi River. I veered the boat hard to the left and approached the dead animal.

Downwind of the carcass, it was apparent it had been in water for some time. We also noted the dead deer was a buck; a portion of its left antler was visible above a layer of floating duck weed.

A string of 80-degree days had allowed Mother Nature to take a toll on the now-bloated carcass. Flies and bees buzzed about, and maggots of various ages were doing their grotesque job. It wasn't a pretty sight or smell.

I have a thing for attempting to determine the cause of death whenever I find a deer carcass. A natural curiosity, if you will. I've conducted my nonscientific necropsies on deer killed by wolves, coyotes and stray dogs. Once I found a dead buck, a dandy 10-pointer, that had been killed by another buck. It had been gored multiple times in the neck and chest. Over the years, I've found numerous deer that have fallen through thin ice and were unable to escape. As I stared at those dead deer, I could only imagine their struggles to escape their ultimate icy tombs.

Now I stood in the boat and scrutinized the above-water portion of the dead buck, a 5-pointer. I could see no signs of trauma. Despite groans from my hunting partner -- and keen interest in the smelly carcass from the two hunting dogs also occupying the boat -- I used an oar to attempt to roll over the floating carcass so I could analyze its underside. During the process I was careful not to breathe through my nose.

Then I noticed it. Between the buck's front legs, an area called the brisket, I saw what appeared to be a exit wound caused by an arrow. I was unable to completely roll the carcass over, but, as I attempted to do so, my hunting partner, from his position in the front of the boat, clearly saw an arrow entrance wound about midway up the chest.

A bow hunter had hit the buck and had been unable to recover it.

It was quiet for a long moment while my friend and I contemplated the situation. I felt for the dead buck, but also for the hunter. From the location of the arrow's entrance and exit it appeared that at least one lung would have been hit, and possibly the heart. Judging by the angle of the wounds, the buck must have been shot from a deer stand and most likely was very close to the hunter. The exit hole being so low in the body, one would assume a good blood trail. But, as any archery hunter knows, there are many variables to consider.

The buck was floating within sight of the shoreline. Had the hunter been unable to follow the blood trail to the water's edge? Or did the buck swim from a faraway shoreline and die before it could make land? In that case, the hunter would in no way have been able to see the carcass. Had the warm days and the ultimate bloating of the carcass raised it higher on the water's surface and made it more visible? A freshly killed animal would not have been nearly as evident.

I thought about the time I was blood-trailing a buck I had hit with an arrow. It, too, had jumped water, in that case a small lake. I first had used binoculars to scan the lake for a dead deer. After circling the shoreline twice I finally found where the animal had exited the water. I found the dead buck a short distance into the woods.

Hunters and nonhunters reading this account are likely reeling with various emotions. Nonhunters might be experiencing anger and sorrow. Some hunters might be wondering how a seemingly lethally hit buck could have escaped. We can't assume, though, the hunter was irresponsible in his tracking job.

I doubt anyone is feeling as bad as the hunter who lost the buck.

Bill Marchel, an outdoors columnist and photographer, lives near Brainerd.