If you see shelves bearing "Sneeze(s) in a Can" in your favorite sporting goods store this summer, don't laugh. Just pull out your wallet and thank Larry Finley.

After losing the battle to stifle a sneeze last November, the deer hunter from London, Ky., barely had time to wipe his nose before a 226 7/8-inch (composite score) whitetail ran into his bullet.

Larry is among 13 friends who lease 880 acres on the Ohio River in Pendleton County.

Because many members had stumbled across sign indicating a very large buck was living within their jurisdiction, not even the worst weather imaginable could keep them home when the rifle season commenced.

"It was warm that weekend, actually the worst hunting conditions you could ask for," remembered Larry, who chose to hunt from a borrowed ladder stand overlooking a sign-riddled hollow he'd discovered the first year he joined the club.

Opening Saturday was a bust, but Sunday's hunt was a short one.

"My allergies were killing me," Larry said. "After a while, I sneezed … not very loud. Next, I was just sitting there with my head back when I heard a shot."

When he sat up and looked around, Larry saw this buck charging downhill. He didn't think twice before squeezing the trigger.

After sitting there for about 30 minutes, Larry got down and began to look for blood. When he found some, he returned to the clubhouse to recruit helpers.

[Read the rest of this article...]

Powerless to do anything but gawk, Jeff Yelton's gaze shifted back and forth from the deer with the strange rack to his watch. Always one to follow the rules, the hunter from Chesterton, Ind., knew it wasn't yet light enough to legally squeeze his muzzleloader's trigger.

He was almost convinced something was wrong with his too-slow watch.

He KNEW something was wrong with the animal's antlers.

The left side of the rack was normal, if not extraordinary. If Jeff had bothered to count the points, he'd have tallied six long (typical) ones on that side alone.

But it was the right side that kept him from counting, which demanded attention. All that junk couldn't be antler, could it?

Jeff's question wasn't answered until four days later, because the deer disappeared before the man's timepiece gave the okay to shoot.

Jeff was back in that power line stand on the Monday after Thanksgiving. Close to 8:00, he saw the second buck of the morning about 150 yards down the right-of-way.

He eventually realized it was the buck with the messed-up antlers, and when it came to within 80 yards, he squeezed off a shot.

The right side of this Porter County, Ind., buck's rack is 26 inches larger than the impressive, 6-point left antler. It's easy to see why Jeff was confused when he first saw the deer.

Its BTR composite (true gross) score is 198 7/8.

A miscalculation of where the buck was standing when the bullet struck almost resulted in Jeff believing he'd missed. Ed Waite tells the whole story, which should be a lesson to all, in RACK magazine this fall.

[Read the rest of this article...]

After spending most of Oct. 7, 2012, cutting up fallen trees, dragging the debris to the woods and decommissioning a storm-damaged stand, most hunters would've been happy to spend the remains of the day in a recliner.

Jim Twiggs might've done just that, too, if his buddy hadn't announced that he was going to see the sunset from a deer stand.

Jim's friend, Ted Galbreath, had brought his hunting gear to the farm, so staying to hunt was an easy choice. Jim, however, had to go home to collect his stuff, and then drive back in order to sit in a tree for a couple of hours.

He was in a tree by 5:00, and deer began coming to the alfalfa field, several of them right past his stand, 10 minutes later.

About 6:45, Jim was tempted by a nice 9-pointer. Seeing another, much bigger buck made the decision easy.

Maybe 20 seconds after Jim resolved to take the 40-yard shot with his crossbow, the second buck crossed in front of him.

After the thwack, both bucks took off running along the field's edge, eventually cutting through a gap in the strip of trees. The 24-pointer went to ground in the corn stubble on the other side.

[Read the rest of this article...]

When it comes to big Canadian whitetails, the western provinces usually hog the spotlight. One of the finest taken in 2012, however, was felled near Kenora, Ontario.

Buddies Dennis Chevalier and Chris Savage devoted six weeks to hunting a monstrous buck a coworker photographed in early October. For most of that time, they sat together in a pop-up blind, alternating roles as hunter and cameraman.

They really wanted to catch the buck they'd nicknamed Kong on videotape.

Because Chris worked the midnight shift, Dennis struck out alone on Nov. 19. Kong was the fourth deer he saw that day, though the buck wafted back into the trees well beyond bow range.

Dennis thought about grunting or even throwing out a snort-wheeze - anything to lure the buck back in front of the blind - but he wound up doing nothing because he didn't want to spook a nearby doe and fawn.

While the hunter was second-guessing his silence-is-golden decision, the deer in front of him snapped to attention and stared down the trail. Dennis heard heavy footfalls in the snow before he peeked out and saw the deer of his dreams returning.

The shot was 20 yards, and Dennis was holding the bloody arrow half an hour later. Kong lay dead 50 yards away.

After counting points and marveling at the rack's mass, Dennis decided it was time to call and wake Chris. Weeks later, they learned that the irregular 17-pointer is runner-up to provincial compound bow record. Its composite score is 196 7/8.

Jeff Morrison's story about this beast will appear in RACK magazine this fall.

[Read the rest of this article...]