Today was the last day of my vacation. My Dad and I decided it would be the perfect time to try and bowhunt a new set we had recently hung in hopes of ambushing a big buck that we figured was using a reclusive area that had 8 large rubs scattered in it. The plan was to arrive 2 hours before light and sit it out in hopes of being there well before he returned from a night on the town. 4 am arrived early this Tuesday, after hunting 13 of the last 15 days I was worn out. We arrived at the property at 5:15, miraculously as we drove in we spotted a doe and a big buck locked down in a weed field that lay between a moved grassy area and the wood lot. We drove by and let them be. We pulled out of sight and devised a plan to sit and watch until light and if they hadn't moved we would get up wind and try to stalk them on foot and with the bow and arrow in hand. At day light I ascended up on a dirt mound to gain a better vantage point on the weedy area. From there I would try to pin point the buck and doe and come up with my plan of attack. After 5 minutes of scanning I spotted a smaller buck bedded 50 yards away. I motioned for dad to bring the camera and the muzzle loader (just in case). Shortly after that the big buck appeared over the top of a small rise and began to scare both the smaller bucks and me! He was thrashing trees, snort wheezing and shaking his head like a cinched up rodeo bull. He definitely made his presence known that we were on his territory and that doe was all his. After a quick brush back to the other smaller bucks waiting to jump in, he vanished from where he had appeared. We sat there sore, cold, covered in mud and growing quickly impatient for over the next hour and a half. This was suppose to be a hunt from a treestand, and then changed to a spot and stalk. So not only were we unable to use the camera arm but we had left the tripod at home too, so my dad was free handing all the footage. I was expecting to spot them, slip back down the dirt (now mud) hill and began the Mohican sneak attack. Instead it turned into a sit and wait hunt from the top of a small mud pile. The smaller bucks between us and the big buck stopped us from trying to stalk any closer and were proving to make this bowhunt very difficult. At 9:00am a large snap caught the smaller bucks attention and ours, and just like that the bruiser was standing on the rise looking our direction again. I lowered down onto the Knight muzzle loader and found a small hole the size of my fist that was perfectly placed on the center of his chest. Once I got the ok, the safety was off and the smoke filled the air. He vanished, was he down, did I miss, did he run off? I couldn't see anything. "Did I hit him?" "I don't know?" "Let me rewind the footage and check." Well with out a tripod the concussion of the gun shook my Dad's sturdy camera position and the deer vanished at the sound. We replayed the footage a few times and caught a glimpse of his rack running North. We decided to back out and come back in 3-4 hours. Those 4 hours I spent praying, pleading and trying not to throw up my lunch. I knew this would be my biggest buck to date if we found him. When we couldn't handle it anymore we went to the spot we had land marked his disappearance and we found hair and blood. We followed the blood for about 100 yards and then it just stopped, like he put a cork in the leak. The next 45 minutes were spent wondering around hoping to stumble upon him. Distraught, emotionally drained and very pessimistic, I returned to last blood drops and last set of tracks. I walked another 20 yards and sat down. I was scanning for any sign, and debating getting the dog out to help track. I again prayed and begged with the Lord that he would help us find this buck. Another couple minutes went by and still I saw no new sign that showed me he had gone down this trail. I heard my dad circling back around to my spot so I proceeded to stand up, I turned to the right and took a quick glance through my binoculars. My heart skipped at least 4-5 beats as I saw what appeared to be a white tail. I took off running in the direction and before I could get there I could smell his rutting stench and see the antlers shining in the sun! I let out one big yell and jumped down into the depression where he lay. This wasn't a staged recovery, before my dad could turn on the camera I was already standing over him trying to regain my composure. The ups and downs of deer hunting is something only a hunter knows. With in 20 seconds you can go from the top of the mountain to the bottom and be left there shaking and stupefied. The sheer rush of spotting such and animal and then the heart pounding adrenaline spike when you think you might get a shot at him, to only exchange the up for a quick down hill fall of frustration as the brush is too thick or he turns back around and then vanishes only to reappear and start the emotions all over again. But after the shot the gut wrenching feeling of second guessing and replaying all the details until you finally put your hands on him all come running out as you finally pick up his bullish head and wrap your fingers around his antlers. This hunt can not be summed up any better than a gift from God. From how we spotted him, to where he ended up, to how we found him, it was all the perfect close to a week and half of vacation! Nothing I do in my day to day life can stand up to the thrill I get from chasing these magnificent creatures and if I'm lucky enough I get to give the occasional old bully buck a ride in the back of the Chevy. Thank you Lord! You never cease to amaze me.
-ASMS
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