Aim for the Lungs

Bow hunters should choose a spot in the center of the lungs or slightly lower to be their target every time. An arrow in the lungs will bring down the largest game, and the advantage of this shot is that the lungs are relatively large and surrounded by other vital organs: the heart is below, the spine and aorta (a major artery) are above, and the liver and the spleen are behind. Hunters using firearms have many more choices than bow hunters. A bullet striking either the heart, shoulder, head, spine or lungs is fatal to big game animals due to the massive shock and tissue destruction involved. Once again, the chest area offers the best lethal target.

At Halfway Rock, we turned around. The trail turned to snow and icicles two and a half miles diagonally upwards in Olympic National Park. Both the temperature and the sun were dropping, and we climbed back down to beat both of them.

Hiking down steep trails would be just as much trouble as upwards, if it weren’t for the help of gravity. Ryan and I ran part of the way down the trail, our feet finding the way by themselves in a way my mind couldn’t believe was happening. Jake and I spotted mule deer elsewhere, about thirty feet into the trees. The short dark shapes of six or so animals gradually revealed themselves in the gathering dusk. They stood completely still, phantoms as we moved past them.

Maybe they were atypical though, or maybe it was because we were on their turf – but when we ran into four does munching grass on the side of the road out, they seemed less than awed by our presence. In fact, they didn’t seem to care really at all. We rolled to a stop next to them, opening our windows to get a closer look. The little doe nearest us sported a strange form of ornament – the black shaft of an arrow, broken off and stuck behind her shoulder.

Yet she still munched on happily, skinny legs, mangy fur. Everything in her world was normal. The old wound which she’d carried for so long had healed to the point where it seemed to not affect her anymore. It probably didn’t register in her mind’s image of itself, except when perturbed, caught on some tree, or bumped unceremoniously by some overzealous lover.

All the while, if the two legged beast who’d hunted her had been more skilled or perhaps more merciful, her lungs would have been punctured through, or her heart have been ruptured then and there. Instead, there she stood in front of us, a symbol of stubbornness or luck or simple blindness - probably all three – reminding us of old wounds we still carry, of arrows lodged close to our heart which should have killed us but didn’t.