I would say this year was a culminating year. A gathering of knowledge and experience from past seasons. Mistakes I made in years prior were remembered and I was able to move forward into a realm of becoming a better archery hunter. In many ways the story of this year's buck, began last season.
It rained a lot last year. Nearly every Saturday of archery it precipitated. November 2018...it was one Friday evening after work that I rushed to one of my stands along a ridge top where I saw the best buck of the season. There was a yearling doe that always seemed to be milling around my stand. I often felt she was good cover for other deer. If she was comfortable, other deer were more likely to be at ease.
I remember watching this same doe feed along the ridge 50 yards away that day. Suddenly, she raised her head and skipped in one graceful, seemingly alarmed stride nearly 10 feet to the side of the trail. I thought something was coming along that might disrupt my own hunt, but then I heard the low grunt of a whitetail buck. I scrambled into position and knocked an arrow. Three doe made their way up the ridge and right behind them, nudging them all along, was a nice rack buck. He was king of the ridge no doubt.
All four bedded down as the rain subsided and a low fog rolled through the understory. Fat bombs of water splashed down from the tree tops. I hit the grunt tube a few times and waited. Like a monolith the buck rose and scanned the area seeking the source of a possible challenger. He began a deliberate walk toward my position, and it was a thrilling jolt of adrenaline. The monarch craftily made his way to me using all the cover I could not shoot through...until I had one clear lane. But, I couldn't get my pin on his vital areas. I remember hoping he would keep following a cliff edge around my tree, for he would emerge in a perfect opening, but he stopped to scent me and though he could not see me, he dropped over the cliff, and smartly came back up 60 yards away. There he simply stood and the cover of darkness enveloped him. I had to tip my hat to this buck, for he had beaten me at the game. I waited until pitch dark so as not to spook him and climbed down for the hike back to the trailhead.
I relived that hunt a thousand times.
A year later a new opportunity would dawn.
It was the final Saturday of the 2019 archery season. Up until this point, I had only spotted a few legal bucks, a nice six on a frigid, blustery, snow-spitting afternoon and a bigger eight the final Friday evening of the season. Neither buck had moved closer than fifty yards as both were in pursuit of does and largely ignored the bleats and grunts I threw in their direction.
I still had a lot of hope. Seeing a good buck in the waning light on Friday was a positive. The big boys were moving and pushing and setting the stage for exciting shows in the woods.
I did not have to wait long for the entertainment to commence on Saturday morning. Shortly after sunrise a doe zipped across the hardwood as I watched from my stand set back against a tangle of woody browse and a marshy swale. Seconds later a grunting, sleigh-headed buck charged behind in hot pursuit. Marveling at the size of the antlers, I watched him skitter to a walk. I could not see the doe in the cover, so I hit the bleat call to get his attention. His antlers were definitely visible and I knew he was definitely a big racked buck. To get this big on public land, I knew the buck was wise. He lifted his nose and scented the wind which prevailed from my direction. Despite the doe scent I had put down, I knew chances were he could also scent me.
For the next hour and a half I observed the buck slowly pick his way through the brush. I thought for sure he would eventually lose interest in my intervals of bleats and grunts and make off in the direction of the doe. My heart pounded the entire time, and once I lost him for a few minutes and thought that he was gone, but I kept trying to think positive. I've seen the smart bucks circle in from behind and I knew that maybe he would do so. And, then, I got my biggest break of the morning.
Roughly fifty yards to my right, a deer popped out on the trail that leads past my stand, and it was the same doe the buck had been chasing. I had no idea that she had been there all along, hence the buck stayed in the area. I quickly decided there would be no more enticing calls on my part. The doe was my ticket, and if I didn't spook her, he might follow her all the way.
I mostly remember the absolute intensity of the next twenty minutes as I watched the doe drift closer and closer to my position. The buck emerged on the same trail and kept an eye on the doe as he mimicked her feeding lane—laden with spicebush and hackberry. The moment of truth came when he stopped and silently stared at me from about 55 yards. The doe was at about 30 yards at this point. I remember holding stock still and closing my eyes a few times while hoping beyond hope that he would not snort and bust away. It felt like five minutes before I could breath again, and the buck dismissed me. He continued to feed and once I thought he would use the screening shrubs and saplings to move away from a good shooting lane. But, the doe continued to put him at ease.
A sense of calm pervaded when the buck stepped back across the trail and stood broadside, slightly quartering away at 35 yards. All my cards were flipped and I was dealt an unobstructed shot. All that mattered was the shot and I focused entirely on it. I'll always remember the arc of the arrow as it plunged downward and struck home. The buck whirled, staggered, and fell. It was all over in ten seconds. I openly wept with happiness and immediately felt that a true monarch of the woods had fallen. He was a magnificent buck. A smart buck. And, it was an honor to take him. I know I will lose more times than win in matchups with bucks like him. Most times I'll be lucky to even see a big buck for they move like spirits...always wary and always wise. Yet, as I walked out of the forest on the final day of archery, I knew that I was carrying with me...the buck of a lifetime.
