I’m glad I met Pablo Libero. He was a true bowhunting character.

I’d been hunting axis deer on the Hawaiian island of Lanai for most of a week in which the wind blew incessantly; howling trades that set the powdered red soils of Lanai swirling and flying so that after several days my camo clothes and leather boots had turned completely red and my eyes were crusted and blinking constantly from the fine ocher dust. There was simply no relief from the wind. Axis deer, notorious for being wildly skittish, had been almost impossible to predict or approach. I was staying with my friend, Steve Gelakoski.

Steve’s a serious archery hunter and long time island resident who had set me on a piece of spot-and-stalk ground down the island. In the wind and flying dust, a herd of axis bucks appeared upwind some 600 or 700 yards away, their heads and high racks moving above the scrub as they headed toward a low cut in the landscape. I set into high gear trying to make the cut before they did. Reaching the spot I nocked an arrow as the bucks appeared, their path certain to bring them just upwind. I gauged the wind, steadied to draw, when suddenly the bucks turned tail in a wild-eyed dash.

I cursed and sat on my butt to catch my breath when I caught movement uphill. A figure was coming across the skyline in front of me, picking its way through the brush, a hunter, carrying a bow. He was headed my way, so I rose and walked to meet him.

“Hey bra, you spook my deer,” the man called over the wind as he approached, and it was only then that I noticed that he had no shirt, wore only a bandana rolled and tied around his head, a pair of faded khakis and shoes with no socks. He was impressive in the way he carried himself, obviously comfortable in the terrain, deeply tanned and with a strong gait, well-built with large hands holding a relic of a bow.

“You spook my deer,” he repeated as he got closer and my hackles rose.

“What the heck are you talking about, you’re the one who came from upwind,” I shot back.

“You spook my deer,” smiling.

I obviously wasn’t going to get anywhere with this local, so I waved him off and turned to head back to the road, but he sprinted up beside me and we studied each other as we walked. He definitely looked like he belonged, and I felt like the intruder, which looking back, is exactly the impression he wanted to make. Truthfully, on my own turf, I might have done the same. I noticed he was studying my bow, as he apologized for his, a vintage, low-end PSE with one sight pin taped to the riser. That bow had plenty of miles on it.

He parted with a “better luck” sort of crack in pigeon island dialect, and truth be told, I was happy to see him leave. But he left an indelible impression.

When I mentioned this to Steve, he knew exactly who I was talking about. “Pablo,” he said with a grin. “So you met Pablo. Was he wearing clothes? Can you guess how old he is?”

Pablo Paul Libero was a bowhunting fixture on Lanai who sometimes hunted sans clothing, as locals tell it, a wild man with little respect for season or limits, and a diehard archery hunter. Legend has it Pablo shot the last pronghorn antelope on Lanai. He had worked in the little town of Lanai City most of his life and raised a flock of daughters of stunning beauty. When he retired he did even more hunting. He died on Hallows Eve at 78. He was an unforgettable character who unbelievably, was 70 years old when he spooked my deer, and according to those who knew him, it wasn’t by accident.