What a Pig!

I've received several email pics of this hog. I don't know many details other than it was killed in the Midwest. Talk about a "character buck" , this one has it all! Congrat's to the lucky hunter and awesome job capturing the snowflakes in the picture.

If you're like me, you live for the day when you get the opportunity to take down a brute like this one!

Road Kill

Long time Whitetail Fanatic Cameron Coble sent these pictures of a 2007 road killed buck. The buck from White County Indiana grossed right at 180" typical.

The Closer I Got, The Bigger It Looked!
By Billy Boston

On the morning of November 13, 2007, the fourth day of Missouri's firearms deer season, I had a ground blind set up on a creek bluff overlooking a large pasture in Pike County, Louisiana Missouri. There were wooded draws on both sides of the pasture.

At 6:15 am, movement on my right at about 150 yards caught my attention. It was a large shooter buck! By the time I got on it, the buck had already moved into one of the wooded draws. Then I noticed two does making their up the pasture towards the top of the ridge. This was a good sign.

15 minutes later, I noticed a large buck on top of the ridge making his way down to intercept the trail where the two does had been earlier. The large buck stopped 380 yards away from my location. I took aim with my .308 Weatherby and fired. The bucks just stood there. I fired again and the buck moved closer to me. The buck dropped with my third shot!

I left my groundblind to go retrieve my buck and could not believe how big the deer looked. The closer I got the bigger he looked. When I finally got my hands on him, it was unbelievable. 16 points, 6 2/8 bases and plenty of mass! The mainframe 12 with 4 kickers grossed 175 typical.

The Jon Nicolaisen Droptine Buck

On October 20th my hunting partner and I decided to try some new stands that were set up specifically for the pre-rut. Seeing that we were sharing a ride but were hunting in different locations, my partner said that if I get a deer that "I may have to wait a while" for him to return. So, I responded kiddingly that I may have to shoot 2 to compensate for the time. I grabbed my bow and three arrows and we parted ways for the hunt. After getting in my stand and sitting for 20 minutes a doe walked by. I wasn't going to shoot but I thought about my 2 deer story and thought I might as well try. Sure enough the doe came within 20 yards and presented me with a good shot and I took it. The shot pierced her boiler room perfectly and she ran off only 40 yards before she folded up. Figuring I had to wait anyway I continued to sit...what the heck, I was in no hurry to go nowhere. About an hour later I heard some commotion in the dried autumn leaves and several deer came off a hillside some 100 yards away. They seem to scatter in different directions but I couldn't tell for sure how many and how big because they had made it to a small thicket to my left. I thought I could see that one good buck had come down the hill, but I wasn't sure. I pulled out the grunt call, honked on it a few times, but nothing came by from the flurry of deer that had slithered down the hill. I figured they ran out without me being able to see them. So I sat. Until an hour later I heard some rustling in the thicket to my left and out came this nice buck. He slowly made his way to within 25 yards of me. I stopped him and shot, he dropped right in his tracks. Unfortunately, he was down, but not out. Here is where math becomes important, 3 arrows minus 2 arrows leaves one! I had to make a decision, try to shoot him through the underbrush with my last arrow and risk deflection and have the deer run off if he was capable or climb down and get a closer shot. I knew that if I climbed down he may run without any opportunity to shoot before I got there. I decided by best chance was to climb down and finish him off with a high percentage shot. As a result I was able to arrow this nice double drop tine buck with a gross score of 172" and a doe in one sitting.

Whitetail Fanatic - Curt Headington

Whitetail Fanatic is certainly a term that describes Curt Headington. This lucky hunter found a shed antler from this great buck in the spring of '05. The hunter estimated the buck was a 3 year old at that time. In '05 Curt saw the buck during the early doe season but couldn't locate him later during archery or gun seasons. In early Nov '06, Curt caught a glimpse of the awesome buck about 100 yards from where he eventually killed the buck a few weeks later.

Curt shot the buck on Nov 26th, 2006... It was very foggy and wet that day. The woods were absolutely silent. Curt said he didn't see a single deer that day, that is until the huge buck came in around 4:00 PM. Curt executed a 42 yard shot on him as the buck stopped to freshen a scrape. Not wanting to risk loosing the buck, Curt decided to let the buck expire overnight. The exuberant hunter recovered the buck the following morning. The buck only traveled 150 yards after the shot. The 11 pointer has a gross typical score of 172 5/8th.

Deer Fishing?

I've been sitting on this one after receiving the email a few months ago. After a little checking it appears to be legit and so I thought now would be a good time to post it. Enjoy!

Last Saturday morning, my buddy Bo Warren and I were trolling for stripers in the Chesapeake Bay. We were 1½ miles offshore in about 80 feet of water contemplating why the fish weren't biting. We looked back to check our gear and saw something odd in the water. Was it a seal?? Can't be, we don't have seals around here. On closer look, it turned out to be a buck that was WAY off course. He was desperate and barely staying afloat.

I've seen deer swim a river or bayou before. When you see that, the first thing you notice is that they are powerful swimmers. Their head and shoulders are out of the water and they make surprisingly good headway. This deer was just barely keeping his nose out of the water and looked like he'd been swimming all night long. In fact, he was so worn out that he swam toward the boat probably thinking it looked enough like land to him. When he got closer though, he wasn't sure what to make of the two dudes on board, and backed off.

So, since the fish weren't biting, we thought we'd give this buck a hand. Turns out Bo grew up around cows and was really handy with a bowline. He lassoed the deer on the first try! Bo grabbed his neck, I grabbed the flank, and we barreled over backwards into the boat. Before I knew it, Bo was on top of him and had him tied up just like a calf.

We hit the throttle and shuttled him to the closest beach - Kent Point. I beached the boat and we carefully unloaded the deer onto the sand. The whole time we kept thinking he was going to kick the snot out of us. He never did though; he was totally spent. We untied him and jumped back. Too weak to stand, he just sat there quivering. We even picked him up again and put his feet underneath him, but he still couldn't walk. Don't know if he made it or not, but I think his chances were vastly improved. Hopefully he recovered after time. When you're out & about, ya' just never know...

Wasp in the Skull Buck

My buddy Andy who works at Cabela's sent me this interesting story. As the story goes, this deer was harvested with a bow on Dec. 30th by Jay Trudell of Delafield Wisconsin. On New Years Eve, Jay took the deer to a friend's house to be butchered. They skinned it for a shoulder mount, stopping right behind the ear.



The buck dressed out at 175 pounds and has a good layer of fat on its rump. Every indication was that this was a normal, healthy deer. After the taxidermist capped the skull, he cut the skull plate to remove the antlers. As he finished the cut, he hit metal. Jay got the skull and antlers back and cleaned them. The hide was completely healed and did not give any indication that there was an injury. The threaded portion of the broadhead had snapped off.

The deer had been shot in a prior season with a Wasp Hammer broadhead. It entered the brain but did not kill the deer. It also passed through the hinge of the jaw and had grown over with bone and prevented the jaw from opening all but the smallest amount. The brain was infected around the puncture wound.

Heree you see an aging jaws next to the skull to show how the jaw hinge should look.




Here you can see the opposite healthy side



The bone had grown over the broadhead and through the vent in the blade and bridged the gap.

The upper left arrow shows how much hinge movement was allowed in the jaw, The opening and closing of the mouth had worn a curved area away



There must be some less-than-lethal hunters where Jays hunts because 2 years prior to this, Jay's brother shot deer with a damaged hindquarter. Upon removing the meat, they discovered a portion of a broadhead embedded in femur (hindquarter) Pictured is the bone from the opposite (healthy) side of the same deer as a comparison. Both of these injuries were at least a year old. Whitetails are tough animals.

My Buck of a Lifetime

by Gered DeHoogh

It has been a life long dream of mine to harvest a giant whitetail. And on that cold December morning that dream was about to come true.

It all started when I was 9 years of age. My dad always loved to deer hunt and I remember him going on deer hunts out west, in Michigan, and in our own backyard at home in Iowa. I remember I always wanted to tag along, but I was too young. For some reason when I turned 9 years old my dad decided I was old enough to go on my 1st shotgun hunt with him in Iowa. I don't remember a lot about that day, but I do remember some of the details. My dad and I got out of bed early that morning, made breakfast and packed some lunch for the day. He then took out a pen and paper and made a rough sketch of a deer standing broadside and told me where I should aim if I had a shot at a deer. We both carried single shot shotguns. We drove out to the field in which we were going to hunt and we walked about a half-mile to where we were going to post for the morning. We were placed along the Floyd River right next to a creek that formed a T to the river. After a period of time I remember hearing a crunching noise and as I turned my head there was a little forked buck crossing the river and approaching the bank where I was seated. As the small buck climbed the bank and started trotting past me at about 30 yards, I took aim and fired. I thought I had missed. My Dad then came over to where I was and he went to look for blood. There in the snow was bright red blood and he spotted the deer lying down along a fencerow about a mile away where he expired. I said that day "this is the best day of my life."

Since that day we have had a lot of great hunts together. We created many memories that will last a lifetime, memories that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. All of these hunts and these memories, all that my dad taught me, and all that I had learned on my own by experience deer hunting was training for what I was about to encounter on December 8, 2007.

When I was 20 years old and right out of technical college I decided to go through a guide-training program in northwest Montana, put on by Jerry Malson outfitting in Trout Creek, Montana. After the 6-week course ended they decided to hire me as an elk guide. During my time as an elk guide I was fortunate to meet and get to know some really great people. One person I met, Steve Wright, was from southeast Iowa. Since I was originally from Northwest Iowa, and I also had a sister living in southeast Iowa at the time, we had some things in common. We got to talking and he said if I would get finished with the season here in Montana and wanted to come hunt on his property for whitetail, to give him a call when I returned home. I did just that and I went out and did an archery hunt that fall. I was not successful in tagging an animal that fall, but I got to know Steve pretty well and saw some beautiful country. Since that time I have been hunting on his property with archery tackle and black powder equipment. Over the past seven years I have taken 3 bucks in southeast Iowa, one with my bow and two with black powder.

The second shotgun season in Iowa was fast approaching. The whole week before I had been packing my bags, sighting in my TC Encore, and talking to my dad about big bucks. Of course before every trip we talk about big bucks. It was Friday, the day before the season opener. My dad and I decided to leave that morning at 5:00 am. It is only a 5 hour drive so that was plenty early but we were excited to get down there and scout around a little bit and decide where each of us would set up that morning.

That morning I popped out of bed and gave my loving wife a kiss goodbye, checked on both my children and headed out the door. I then went and picked up my dad and we were on our way well before daylight. We were fast approaching our destination so I called my friend Steve and told him we would be in town about 10:30 am. I then called the motel that we had a reservation with and told them we would be arriving soon. Its really more of and inn than a motel which is why I had to call ahead. There is no fulltime staff there. Nonetheless it has nice beds, TVs, and hot showers. All in all it is a great deer camp for two guys. We arrived at the motel and unpacked our gear. We then put on a heavy coat and some boots and headed toward our hunting grounds.

There were a couple of places that I wanted to check out. My dad had been along with me before and there was one spot in particular that he had sat in previous years so we wanted to check that spot out first. It is a deep wooded ravine right along the Des Moines River, with two old logging roads running through it. There are also a lot of big brush piles where deer like to bed. We decided that he would set up there again in the morning. Now all we had to do was find a spot for me. There were about 3 different areas I was thinking about. One area has 3 wooly draws that come together and create a funnel where they meet. Another spot has a pond on the edge of the timber that overlooks a big cornfield, which rolls down the hill into some more timber. There I could overlook the field and see into the timber. The other spot I had in mind was a wide area that ran all the way from the road down to a deep, nasty draw. In that area there are some small ditches running down to the big draw at the bottom, surrounded by a lot of low brushy, thorny trees and shrubbery. In the middle of all of this towards the big draw there is a big old tree with big branches stemming out. In that tree there is a permanent wooden tree stand. My dad and I hiked out there and I climbed up in the stand to see my view. I had a couple of good openings but I would have to pick my shot. There was also a fresh blanket of snow from the night before, so I had to brush off the seat and the stand. We decided this was the spot for me. We thought if the guns started going off in the morning and people were pushing deer that I might catch a big buck heading for thick, nasty cover in the bottom of the draw. Now I was really excited. We knew our plan and had seen where we were going to hunt. Now all we had left to do was wait until tomorrow. The only problem was that it was only 2:00 pm on Friday afternoon and we had a long wait. We headed back to our room and prepared for the morning, laying out all of our gear and getting our packs ready. That night we had an early supper and went to bed early. It was kind of a restless night for me, but finally the alarms rang and we were on our way to our stands.

I dropped my dad off first and drove down the dark road to where my stand was located. I finished putting on my outer layers of clothing, threw on my pack, grabbed my muzzleloader, and started walking to my tree. It was a beautiful morning in which I didn't even need a flashlight to navigate. I spotted my tree and found the hoist rope, tied my gun off, and climbed into the massive tree. I then hoisted my gun, put in a 209 primer and waited for daylight, not knowing what I was about to encounter.

At about 7:00 am it was light enough to see well. I had only sat for about 15 more minutes when I saw some movement coming from the thick draw below. A doe emerged along with a forked buck. It wasn't exactly what I was looking for but it was fun to see some movement. They headed up from the way I walked in, only about 80 yards east of my tree and disappeared into the low brushy trees. About a half hour later I saw some more movement, this time coming from where the doe and small buck had disappeared a little while earlier. This time they were headed for the thick draw below, again about 80 yards to the east of me. Even though they were still in the thick cover I thought I could see with my naked eyes some headgear on the last deer in the group. I then put up my gun and while looking through the scope I saw a massive set of antlers. The buck was following about 4 does and they were moving broadside to me. When I saw the buck in my scope all I could see was a row of long tines. I had never seen a deer of this size in the wild before. As soon as I realized it was a giant buck I shut his rack out of my mind and focused on what I had to do to close the deal. I had to wait about 5 to 10 seconds until the buck approached an opening about 80 yards to my east, which was only about 5 yards wide. Right before he entered the opening I let out a loud grunt and he slammed on the brakes, stopping right in my opening, and looked right at me broadside. The only shot I had, I had to make offhand and I had to do it fast. So I lowered the cross hairs on his shoulder and shot. When the smoke cleared he was laying right where he had stood. I could see his giant rack sticking off the ground, and then the shaking began for me. I couldn't believe I had just killed the biggest buck of my life. I reloaded my muzzleloader and raised my gun again, just to make sure he was down for good. When I was sure he was done, I lowered my gun and climbed down out of the tree. The shortest distance to my buck was down a steep, nasty draw and back up the other side. Of course that is the path I chose so I literally had to plow my way through the thorns and briars. Once I was through I was almost there. As I approached I could not believe my eyes. He was a true giant. Before I even grabbed the rack I called my dad on the cell phone and told him that I had just shot the buck of a lifetime. He couldn't believe his ears and told me he was coming out of his stand immediately. I said I would be right over to pick him up. This was a moment that I didn't want my dad to miss. Then I knelt down and picked up the giant 18-point rack. The feeling was amazing. I had always dreamed of it, but I didn't really ever expect it to happen to me. A buck of this caliber is more than I could have asked for. I looked up and thanked God for this undeserved blessing, and then went to get my dad. When I was driving up to my dad I could see him smile from ear to ear. I knew he was excited and proud. As we were walking back out to look at my buck we could see him lying there, and my dad couldn't believe the size of this buck. We shook hands and just stared at this world-class animal. We then shared a time of celebration and took photos, and relived the experience and the story.

This was truly my buck of a lifetime, as well as my hunt of a lifetime. He had an 18-point rack with lots of character. He had 13" G2s and 12" G3s and 8.5" brows and he was scored by my uncle, David Kidder, official Master scorer for SCI. My buck's official gross score is 200 3/8" and net score is 185 5/8". Not only did I take the largest whitetail I will probably ever harvest, but I also got to share it with my dad. My dad was with me when I shot my 1st deer, and he was there when I shot my biggest deer. I hope and pray that some day I will have the opportunity to be with my son when he gets his 1st deer and his biggest deer. What a blessing that would be. Thank you, Dad, for all you have taught me in life and about deer hunting, and for being there on the two best days of my deer hunting career.

My Paintball Bucks
By Jim Willmsen

It was a gloomy Friday on October 26th. I said to myself, "It would be a great day to go hunting". My work was done for the day so I took off and got my gear. I decided to hunt a new area.

Rubs and scrapes surrounded me as I found the perfect tree right next to a creek. I was about to go up in my stand when I heard a loud ruckus. I looked up and saw four kids splattering paint balls all over the woods. Hot pink, neon green, bright orange and it echoed for miles. I decided to approach them and advise they were trespassing and needed to leave. I am hunting and I have permission. They reluctantly agreed and I trekked all the way back to my stand. I was starting to sweat and began thinking my hunt was over for the day; most likely, the teenagers had scared off all of the deer, what's the point. However, I climbed back up in my stand anyway. As I watched the kids leave they unloaded paintballs like machine guns and my blood pressure started to boil. This went on for another 15-20 minutes so I decided to call the police. These kids need to learn a lesson, they're on private property and they are disrespecting nature. Now, knowing it will take time for the woods to quiet down and that my hunt was likely ruined, I decided to sit down and cool off. As I relaxed I heard a splashing noise, like a child jumping in a water puddle. Hearing the rushing of the creek water I talked myself into believing it was just ripples making the noise. Then the noise repeated every five minutes or so but I kept telling myself it's just the creek. But, after about twenty minutes came a loud splash and I said to myself; "what's going on - that's no ripple in the creek"! I looked around. All I saw were tall weeds and the skinny winding creek.

Then it happened - I peered through the weeds and we locked eyes. The monster buck instantly went crazy as if he were possessed, trying to get away. Jumping and thrashing every which way to get loose. Loose from what? Another buck? YES, he was antler-locked with another buck and the other buck was dead. My heart pounded, but I went into hunt mode. I grabbed my bow, drew back, focused on the shot and waited for him to give me one split second of not jumping and thrashing. I put the pin on the vitals and let it go. Awesome shot, it was a complete pass through!! I just kept thinking please go down!! Please go down!! My wish was granted, down he went. I rushed out of my stand and jumped into the creek overjoyed with anticipation. Then I grabbed these massive locked racks.

My discovery was unbelievable. One monster buck was palmated with eight inch massive main beams and an eleven inch drop tine!! The other buck's main beam was embedded inside the main beam of the other buck with incredible force. Unbelievable! I have never heard or seen anything like it!!
The two monsters were locked together no more than 25 yards from my stand the entire time. I walked by them when I picked my spot and two more times with the paint ball fiasco. Three times and I never even saw them. He was one smart buck!! He was quiet until we locked eyes and then he knew the battle was on!! The other buck had been dead for several days. They were definitely never coming apart. It was truly the hunt of a lifetime and goes to show unless you get out there, you'll never find your prize - ANYTHING can happen!

Great Piebald Buck - Justin Robinson

Justin Robinson with his 15 point piebald whitetail deer that he killed in Floyd County, Kentucky on Nov. 17, 2007.

Note:
Piebald deer have patches of white hair but are otherwise normally colored. Piebalds are thought to be more common than albinos. Depending on what part of the country you are from these deer are sometimes referred to as pintos and come in various amounts of white and brown. Protecting piebald deer from hunting would have no biological impact and probably would not result in an increase of these traits.

My Biggest Archery Buck

By Josh Tucker

Well finally after 5 years of bow hunting and passing 9 different bucks last year, here he is!!! I got out to the stand about 3:30 in afternoon and within 15 minutes, I had this Brute on the ground.

I got to my stand, nocked an arrow and looked across the creek and saw him cruising along the edge, on the opposite side from me, grunting the whole way. Awesome! I grunted back at him and he disappeared into heavier cover. I grunted a couple more times anda 125 inch 10 pointer appeared 50 yards into the food plot. He worked his way south and went into the timber, 5 min later the Big Boy from across the creek appears in the same food plot heading right towards my tree! I look over to my left and see a spike feeding at a distance of around 40 yards.The Big Boy saw the spike and started towards him all bristled up, what a sight!! The spike gets to about 20 yards from me and looks up and busts me, I thought here we go, he is going to blow and the big boy will be gone, the spike heads back towards the big buck and then crosses the creek, without alarming the bigger buck.

The Big Boy was at 40 yards behind some tress so I couldn't shoot. He just stayed put looking around and I think he figured he had run the spike off. So he started making a scrape and rubbing a tree on his hind legs, then he took a couple steps forward, I stood up drew my Mathews Legacy, ranged him to be around 30 yards, settled the 30 yard pin and let the Beman Black Max and Spitfire Broadhead go to work. I heard the THWACK, he took off across the creek, and fell over after 60 yards from a double lung hit. I want to thank my buddy Pat for teaching me to bowhunt and helping me with all aspects of hunting, he is not only a great friend but a brother. I would also like to thank my buddy Red who helped me with stand placement and allowed me to hunt his property.

Final Gross Score was 138 5/8!

185 6/8 P&Y
By Dale Pinto

It was Halloween weekend in Pennsylvania, during the archery season, when monster buck got my heart pumping!

It was about 36 degree with a storm moving in. I thought, this should get the deer moving, and decided, it would be a good day for a late afternoon hunt. I left work, stopped by my house and grabbed my bow, camo and my trusty Carbon Blast. When I got to my hunting spot, I put my camo on over my work clothes, sprayed my self down with Carbon Blast, got in my tree stand and knocked an arrow. When I knocked that arrow, I started hearing deer. (It was like turning on a deer switch) I had two nice eight points and a doe around me. The smaller buck looped around and pushed the doe along the trail in front of me, than back up the hill into the foliage out of my view. I then heard another deer coming towards me. ( I thought it was the bigger eight point. ) He came towards me on the high side and to my left, circled under me from behind and past the doe that had come back down the hill into my view. He stood 15 yards in front of my stand giving me a perfect quartering away shot, and it wasn't the eight point; it was a 19 point. I was afraid to draw my bow in fear of being busted by the doe; and losing my shot. I started to slowly draw back, and then realized she was more focused on him. I let the arrow fly. They never knew I was there and he never knew what hit-em. He went eighty yards and dropped.

All that heart pumping, pure adrenalin rush took place in 45 minutes... Life doesn't get any better than this! He scored 185 6/8 P&Y, and weighed 251 pounds.

The one that got away, sort of…..
By Tom Fassbinder

I started the 2006 season with the simple goal of arrowing several does along with a nice buck. When it comes to bucks, my strategy has always been to try for one of the "best available" on whatever property I'm hunting. If the best available is a mature 140 inch buck then that is what I sent my sights on. If there is a 160, then the 140's are allowed to walk and I hunt for the 160. It's pretty simple, I just want to match wits with what I consider to be the biggest and most mature buck on the property.

During a 3 week period prior to the rut I had several close encounters (inside 30 yards) with a dandy 10 point but couldn't seal the deal. My nephew eventually arrowed him as I watched with bino's from my stand just across the picked corn field.

Back to my hunt…. On November 12th, I planned to hunt dawn 'till dusk but the honey-do list took priority and I didn't get to hunt in the morning. If fact, I didn't reached my chosen stand until 12:20 pm. The stand was fresh and hadn't been hunted in over a year. Heading towards the stand I walked too fast because I was running late and feeling some anxiety from missing the morning hunt along with the prime mid-day movement. When I reached the stand I was sweating like a pig in July. I cussed my ignorance for working up a sweat during the walk-in after taking meticulous precautions to eliminate / reduce my human scent during my pre-hunt ritual. After climbing up to my hang-on, placed 21 feet above terra-firma, and strapping myself in, I sat and relaxed for a few minutes trying to cool down before finishing my final "in the stand" preparations. At this time I also realized that I forgotten to place any scent wicks around my stand. (Something that I only do during a 12 day period from November 3 through the 15th)

After about a minute in the stand, still sweating and unprepared with no gloves or head net, my release still stuck up my coat sleeve, all my calls and gadgets still in my backpack, a heard a deer approach from my rear. Taking a chance with a slight turn and glance, I saw one that I quickly recognized as "best available". He was a 6x6 with several kickers, long mains, great mass and a 22"+ inside spread. In an ironic twist the buck was also covered in sweat; his mouth was hanging open and he was blowing steam with every quick breath. I smiled and thought the love-struck booner was as good as loaded in my truck! (Note: overconfidence is sometimes a determent when utilizing the "best available" strategy)

I grabbed my bow off the hanger then realized my release was still stuffed up my coat sleeve. (Something I do when climbing to ensure I can get a good solid hand grip with each step I take up the climbing sticks) I hung the bow back up, pulled the release out and grabbed my bow again. As I drew back I got hung up in the safety vest tether, had to let the bow relax, move my elbow over the top of the tether and redraw the bow. By this time the buck had moved through my shooting lanes and was heading away from me. I silently cleared my throat and gave my best impression of a young buck grunt. Much to my surprise, the big guy turned and headed back to me and stopped in a clearing 28 yards away. When he stopped I was already anchored and squeezed the trigger. The arrow looked good on its way towards the intended target but at the last moment it took a dive into the dirt just missing the bucks underside. An unseen twig was bouncing wildly from contact with my arrow. The buck never flinched. I thought to myself, I couldn't hit that damn twig again if I tried, so if he stays put and gives me a second chance….. well, as I drew back for the second shot he walked off heading down the ridge line and jumped the fence onto the neighbors property totally unaware that he had come dangerously close to becoming a 1 year supply of deer jerky for my family unit. No amount of grunting or estrus doe bleating would make him turn and come back to me. I tried 3 different grunt calls and developed a severe case of carpel tunnel syndrome from tipping my can call back-and-forth. Nothing worked.

I sat there in total despair knowing that I had missed with the first and only arrow I had ever loosened towards a booner. I looked at my watch and it was 12:40 pm. The sweat was gone; I was shaking from the close encounter and I felt like I was going to puke!

Sitting there on my pity pot trying to get a grip on what had happened I suddenly heard a commotion coming from the neighboring property ( my stand is 60 yards from the line) and looked up to see MY booner jumping the fence and coming back towards my stand, head down and running full tilt. I stood, drew and began grunting to try and slow him down. It didn't work. When he was immediately under my stand I grunted loud like a Sasquatch in heat in a desperate attempt to stop him but he turned 90 degrees west, (still at full speed) crossed a ravine, climbed ½ way up the hill and stopped. He then bedded down in thick cover, out of site, but watching his back trail.

I re-ran the latest event through my mind a dozen times and then realized that his right side had a red tint when he jumped the fence. I glassed his latest path with my bino's looking for blood and saw a small spec right under my stand and then, much to my dismay, I heard the distinctive sound of the buck dying just across the ravine some 70 yards from my stand.

If the thought of missing a booner wasn't bad enough, I realized that now I was going to have to sit there and watch someone else unravel the blood trail and recover the brute. I tried to find an upside to this situation but there wasn't one, at least not for me.

The time remaining until it got dark was the longest single time span of my life. I wanted to claim the consolation prize of leading the other hunter to his trophy but no one showed up. I waited until 1 hr after sundown and finally left the area knowing a dead booner was 70 yards away but not wanting to forcibly inject myself into another hunter's recovery process. I went home in total dismay with a plan to return at first light. Needless to say I didn't sleep well that night.

When I returned the next morning, I climbed into my stand and had my hunting partner walk to the exact thicket were the buck had bedded and much to my surprise all that remained was a gut pile!

Later, I learned that the neighboring hunter, the one who didn't miss the booner, saw the buck cross the fence onto his property and from 100 yards away, called the buck into range with a grunt tube. He thought his shot placement was marginal and decided to give the buck plenty of time before looking for it. He began his search around 7:00 pm and found it while doing a grid search sometime around midnight. I appreciate his stealth and dedication to recovering the buck and am happy that he got my, ops, I mean HIS trophy!

Here's a trail camera photo of HIS buck taken approximately 1 month before he was harvested. The picture was taken about 2-3 miles, as the crow flies, from the spot where he died.