Huntin' Hoist

What's The Moral Of This Story? LOL

Saw one this morning that could have benefited from this advice!

I hope his middle name is Hunter!

SEE YOU AT ONE OF THESE LOCATIONS!!
Cabela's
Bass Pro Shops

Doyle’s Huntin’ Hoist is now available in Denmark, Ukraine, Serbia, Poland, Czech Republic, Belgium, Bulgaria, and throughout the European Union…

Where there’s deer and trees we aim to please😀

😀

Doyle - Huntin' Hoist Cord Style Unit Weight: 400grams (14.0 oz.)Diameter: 11,5cm (4 1/2"), Depth 4cm (1 1/2")Belt clip: 6cm (2 1/4") by 3cm (1 1/4")(spring steel)Rope:• Gear Cinch included• Braided Polyester• Length: 9m (30' 0")• Diameter: 0,3cm (1/8")• Breaking Strength: 136kg (200lbs)

We are saddened to hear that Jim’s wife Louise has passed away after a long fight with cancer…
Doyle Myers
Doyle’s Deer Gear

Ever wonder what the other side of the sunset is like?

This side is beautiful…has been beautiful for a lifetime.

Is…will…the other side be so?

To me, tonight, watching the sunset over our land, over the orchard and the vineyard that my soulmate, Louise, and I planted 37 years ago, means more than just the end of another precious day…to me, it is a promise.

A promise that the other side of the sunset is more beautiful than this side has ever, or could ever be. ❤️🙏

Just a little something to think about as we all head to the woods this year.

Great work by Terrie Starkey!

Redline Outdoors loves them some Huntin’ Hoists😑

The BEST Bow/Gear Hoist of All Time…Save You Lots Of Headaches+GIVEAWAY I've used this specific bow hoist for a long time. I hope this helps y'all out!

Sent 48 Huntin’ Hoists to Yvoir Belgium today! Yvoir is on the Meuse River Southeast of Brussels. Hunters in Belgium are gonna have a tangle free happier hunt this year…😑

It’s always fun for me to peruse our recent sales notifications and see where our Huntin’ Hoist is headed. This one is going to Honolulu😳…enjoy our product in the tropical islands and thanks for your purchase!

Let’s git Huntin’ em…🙂

Hunt Does to Find Bucks in November - NDA When November arrives, everyone is on the lookout for that big buck. However, it’s easy to overlook the main factor controlling buck movements in November – does. As the rut kicks in, bucks will be criss-crossing their home ranges to dial in on does, and if you find and pattern does too, you’l...

The 8 Weirdest Whitetails You've Ever Seen The five-legged does, vampire bucks, moose-faced whitetails—check out our rogues gallery of the weirdest deer you’ve ever seen in your life

23 Years For An Archery Bull
09/25/21
By: Doyle Myers

This morning started out like many other days of elk hunting. We were hiking up a mountainside, our only light a waning Gibbous moon. My 75 year old hunting companion George Bunton waited for me to catch up as we climbed the long steep mountain meadow with thick grass, now dried and bleached from a long Colorado summer.
It was our 8th day in the mountains; we had hunted unsuccessfully for a week then licked our wounds and headed South toward his home in Southern Colorado. It was Saturday morning and this morning hunt was a consolation, the area was close to home with only an occasional elk passing through; we were tired and our expectations were low. There was only a week left in Bow season and every elk hunter knows that the longer the season goes the wiser the elk seem to get and the slimmer your chances of success. Still we plodded toward the mountain top, out of breath and realizing our efforts would likely prove just as futile as the many miles we had hiked through the mountains in the last week. My wife and I had talked nearly every day and she asked why I didn’t just return home. But old archery elk hunters know the drill; we hunt in part because of the impossibility of success; we are gamblers who know the odds but always feel this time will be our time to win.
My friend George wanted to reach the top of the mountain before light. Dawn was just breaking as he entered a sparsely treed Quaking Aspen grove 30 yards ahead of me. Over my gasps for air I heard an unmistakable belch from the black timber to our right then another. He hadn’t heard the sounds so I waved my hands wildly and struggled to close the distance between George and I so I could tell him a Bull elk was a hundred yards or so into the timber to our right; I didn’t dare yell in the quiet of the morning. Finally I got his attention in the dim dawn. I pointed to the black timber and knocked an arrow whispering, Bull, Bull…
We both knew what to do instinctively and what would come next. George backed up 50 yards and began cow calling, making the soft mews of a female elk. I tried to find a spot in the thin Quakey patch that would give me both cover and shooting lanes above and below my position. The Bull Elk began to bugle from the thick pines we call black timber. His voice told me he was interested but not closing the distance to the meadow where I was poised in hopes of ending his life. Suddenly I heard a bugle from behind me; it was George, he had realized as I had that the Bull was not coming toward us so he was bugling in an attempt to frustrate the Bull into coming our way. It worked; from the intensity and volume of the bulls bugles I could tell he was almost out of the timber and just below me.
This was the scenario I had played out in my mind so many times and failed at so many times in real life. Everything was perfect…the Bull appeared in the open meadow 50 yards away. I drew my bow and waited until he was at 20 yards. I tried to aim carefully and to focus on his vital organs in my excitement. The arrow flew followed by a loud pop. The Bull turned and I could see at least 12 inches of arrow had penetrated his lung cavity. He turned back to George’s calls as if nothing had happened; I knocked another arrow, pulled back and then another loud pop. The Bull turned down hill; this time his hind quarters quivered, a sure sign he would soon collapse. I watched and listened as he struggled for life in the open field. He groaned then was quiet. I could hear the mews of his harem of cows in the black timber so I didn’t celebrate; I ran to George who had been calling the Bull 50 yards behind me among thick Quaking Aspen and Pine trees. “Did you see him” he asked? he’s down I said and he’s big. George’s weathered face lit up “good job buddy, you did it” he was more excited than I was. I fell in behind George and called to see if he might get a shot. A short time later two cows, female elk, and two spike bulls, young Bull elk with a single spike antler, appeared on the horizon and drifted into the timber out of range. George and I walked the hundred yards to see the massive Bull that lay lifeless in the meadow. For me a self guided trophy Bull with a bow had been a 23 year quest….

https://www.facebook.com/117435166020/posts/10158001154926021/?d=n

Ohio Crossbow Hunter Finds His Massive Buck Two Years Later...on Facebook When Ohio hunter Trent Beachy finally got a shot at the big buck he'd been hunting, he lost the buck—but only for a few years.