Rack Magazine

A chance roadside sighting and a knock on a door lead this Kansan to a dream buck.

In the summer of 2015, the owners of ground I’d leased and hunted for more than 12 years told me they were leasing the place to someone else. I couldn’t afford to match what was offered, so I just had to suck it up and find a new place.

One late-July night around 9:30, as I was going down a gravel road on my way home from running catfish lines, a heavy-framed 8-pointer with some trash walked right in front of my Jeep.

Though I certainly wasn’t in deer mode, I got a little excited.

The following three nights, I took the same roads to and from the river. Every night at the same time, the buck crossed the road within a 50-yard stretch. I got only glimpses of it; never really got the chance to study its rack.

One night, I was having trouble sleeping. I got dressed and drove by the deer’s apparent homestead. As I turned the corner slowly, my headlights illuminated the entire field, and there it was.

The big one was with three other bucks, and all sported pretty good headgear.

Again, I didn’t get a chance to study any of them, but I decided I needed to get permission to hunt that place. The next day, I called the landowner.

He kind of laughed and said, “Sure, I suppose. I’ve never seen much of anything in there besides a couple of does, but give it a shot.”

I was excited, yet I had severe reservations because those 80 acres had about 77 acres of tillable ground with just a very narrow skirt around two sides. There were some mediocre trees and about a 100-yard-long drainage ditch that was basically a breeding hole for mosquitoes.

Nonetheless, I walked along the field edge, looking for sign. I finally found a decent trail and hung my game camera beside it. I waited three days — as long as I could — to go swap cards. In those three days, I had collected more than 200 photographs of the one buck alone, and another 100 or so of the other three bucks together.

That’s when I realized the big one wasn’t just a heavy framed 8-pointer. And it never traveled with the others; it always kept its distance from them or vice versa, so I assumed it was obviously on top of that particular group’s pecking order.

Now everybody knows you don’t tell anybody — no matter how good a friend — about a deer of this caliber. And even if you do, you never say where it’s living. But I needed help.

There wasn’t a tree suitable for a stand, so I called the only friend I could think of — Jerame — who I could trust. He met me at the property, and I showed him the trail cam pictures.

His eyes got as big as mine did the first time I saw the buck.

We hopped on the four-wheeler and rode the property line, looking for the perfect tree. I picked one about 40 yards south of where I had been getting the pictures on my trail cam.

Jerame didn’t agree. He said, “Too close. If the buck’s living in that little pocket of brush, you’ll never get to your stand without busting him out.”

He picked out a tree about 80 yards farther south. I wasn’t liking it and was beginning to regret I’d asked him to help.

We debated back and forth for a while until I finally decided to use the tree he picked. At least I could always sneak closer, later, if needed.

We hung the stand. I decided to not cut any shooting lanes because there weren’t a lot of branches to hide me. The only problem was most of the branches there were dangling between me and the field’s edge.

I couldn’t risk losing what little cover I had.

The next two and a half months were BRUTAL. I had the itch, but if you’re familiar with Kansas weather at all, you know hunting the early season usually consists of a lot of sweat, ticks, mosquitoes and chiggers.

That wasn’t so much what kept me out, though. I was certain the buck wasn’t going to move in shooting hours until it cooled down or a hot doe ran past it come November.

I waited and kept doing my nightly drive-bys to check on the deer.

By Halloween, I stopped seeing it. I was afraid it had taken off to neighboring properties in search of love. But I was going to stick to my game plan and hunt that stand Nov. 10-13, every day, as long as I could.

Well, welcome to Kansas! It was 76 degrees with a strong wind at 5:30 a.m. on Nov. 10.  If the wind had been right, I might have gone to my tree, but I decided to go to work instead of hunt.

The following day, it was still warm, but the wind was blowing from the west. That would carry my scent directly where I would have to be shooting, so no go again.

On the 12th, I woke up at 4:30 a.m. and went out on the porch. It was 67 degrees with a west wind again. I was so frustrated! But something told me to at least drive by there and swing my headlights over the field, so I did.

Wouldn’t you know my dream buck was bedded down 60 yards from the road and about 200 yards north of my stand!

I couldn’t help myself. I tore down the gravel road a mile beyond my usual parking place.

I threw on my camo and harness, grabbed my bow and headed for my stand with the wind howling in my favor. About three-quarters the way in, I realized I’d left my video camera in the Jeep.

I film every hunt, so I got mad at myself, knowing what I might miss on camera that day. But I still had my cell phone and the mount for it on my bow.

About an hour went by and the sun finally came over the horizon. Instantly, the temperature started rising. About 10 minutes after 7:00, I heard leaves crunching to my south.

A doe was walking into my scent stream. When she stopped, I thought, BUSTED!

But no. She squatted and peed right in my clearest shooting lane. PERFECT! Then she marched straight north into the small brushy area where my deer camera was hanging.

Just as she entered the thicket, I heard a loud grunt and a crash through the little ditch near it, and my target buck chased that doe within 50 yards of me and circled back into the thick brush. I grunted, but it never batted an eye. I was bummed.

I just knew she was headed for the next county with my buck hot on her tail.

Thirty minutes later, I heard something south of where the doe had originally appeared. And then I heard a grunt.

I looked back and a little spike had its nose stretched up in the air, licking and sniffing that doe’s essence. As it continued on her trail, it also walked right through my scent path toward the brushy thicket.

About that time, I heard a vicious grunt. In fact, I’m going to say it was the first time I’ve heard a buck actually growl.

I looked to the north, and the big buck had just stood up at the edge of the field and started stomping toward the spike. It looked like a bull, rutted up and ready to show the spike who owned that field.

The spike turned and started heading back toward me, but as the young deer turned, the big buck instantly veered back to the brush.

I had to try something aggressive to trick it into thinking the spike was challenging it, so I cupped my hand near my mouth and did the best snort wheeze I could muster.

It worked. Big boy immediately turned, bowed up and started stomping right down the tree line to me.

As I turned on the camera on my phone and hit record, I looked at the spike, which was staring at me like, “Why would you do that? He’s going to kill me!”

Soon, the big buck was at 40 yards and closing. It never took its eyes off the spike. I figured I needed to shoot while it was still quartering to me a little, or by the time it was broadside, it would be right in my scent stream. I wasn’t going to chance that.

As the buck cleared a small tree, I found a tiny opening and grunted to stop it. The deer didn’t even twitch an ear because it was so focused on the spike.

There was another very small window two steps farther, and I let the arrow fly. It smacked the buck perfectly.

It jumped and donkey-kicked, and then took off after the spike until it collapsed within sight. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, that I was finally in the right place at the right time to score such a wonderful deer.

I couldn’t be happier.

This article was published in the August 2017 edition of Rack Magazine. Subscribe today to have Rack Magazine delivered to your home.

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