As a longtime rabbit hunter, a buddy and I decided last year to dive into big game hunting. We spent a massive amount of time scouting including many weekends, several gas tanks, countless hours of glassing, 100’s of miles boots on the ground, and a few legal bucks seen here and there.
When last season rolled around, it was as if the deer had vanished into thin air. With all of the fresh sign we saw we would joke that they everywhere and nowhere at the same time. We ended last season with neither tags filled but we had lots of laughs, lots of beers, and made lots of lifelong friendships.
Fast forward to this season, a friend/mentor took me to a promising spot at an area he’s hunted since the 80’s. We spent the weekend hunting the area and tracking a buck who seemed to evade us every step of the way. When we finally did get close, a strong gust blasted our scent his way and he was gone forever. So I thought...
Veterans Day weekend came around and I was itching to find that buck so my friend and I hiked in before sunrise to get after it. The same buck was clearly still working the area heavily and it didn’t take long for us to get into some fresh tracks. We hop-scotched around the area tracking and stopping to glass periodically but couldn’t get a visual of this elusive buck. We decided to hit one last glassing spot before calling it a morning.
While we heading towards our next vantage point, a hand slammed on my shoulder and my friend excitedly whispered “there’s the buck right there!” After all the work we put in, I figured there was absolutely no f’ing way that we stumbled into this guy and we had very little cover to avoid getting busted. I slowly looked through my scope and confirmed that he was a legal buck and he was only at 120 yards. My friend had a new rifle that he wasn’t confident in so he told me to take the shot and he would take a follow up shot if necessary. Through all of our excessive movement and little cover, the deer almost busted us and then casually went back to browsing.
At this point, it felt like an eternity of having my rifle shouldered unsupported and looking through the glass. I had a brief moment to tell myself to focus on my fundamentals before my arm was too fatigued to take a good shot. After what felt like an eternity, my buddy let out a grunt, the buck turned broadside, and I squeezed off a round.
After 20 minutes or so, we went to track the buck and found a nice big spatter of blood on a rock. The buck didn’t get more than 15-20 yards before toppling over from a lung shot.
After much celebration, the hard work had just started. We got him gutted and dragged him back to the truck which felt like a hundred miles away. We got the tag validated and took him to deer camp and hung him in a tree. It was a cold weekend so we were able to work on him right at camp and leave him hanging overnight. Those tenderloins tasted so damn good when we had our camp celebration dinner.
I know it’s a long-winded story but it was extraordinarily exciting to get my first buck!
When last season rolled around, it was as if the deer had vanished into thin air. With all of the fresh sign we saw we would joke that they everywhere and nowhere at the same time. We ended last season with neither tags filled but we had lots of laughs, lots of beers, and made lots of lifelong friendships.
Fast forward to this season, a friend/mentor took me to a promising spot at an area he’s hunted since the 80’s. We spent the weekend hunting the area and tracking a buck who seemed to evade us every step of the way. When we finally did get close, a strong gust blasted our scent his way and he was gone forever. So I thought...
Veterans Day weekend came around and I was itching to find that buck so my friend and I hiked in before sunrise to get after it. The same buck was clearly still working the area heavily and it didn’t take long for us to get into some fresh tracks. We hop-scotched around the area tracking and stopping to glass periodically but couldn’t get a visual of this elusive buck. We decided to hit one last glassing spot before calling it a morning.
While we heading towards our next vantage point, a hand slammed on my shoulder and my friend excitedly whispered “there’s the buck right there!” After all the work we put in, I figured there was absolutely no f’ing way that we stumbled into this guy and we had very little cover to avoid getting busted. I slowly looked through my scope and confirmed that he was a legal buck and he was only at 120 yards. My friend had a new rifle that he wasn’t confident in so he told me to take the shot and he would take a follow up shot if necessary. Through all of our excessive movement and little cover, the deer almost busted us and then casually went back to browsing.
At this point, it felt like an eternity of having my rifle shouldered unsupported and looking through the glass. I had a brief moment to tell myself to focus on my fundamentals before my arm was too fatigued to take a good shot. After what felt like an eternity, my buddy let out a grunt, the buck turned broadside, and I squeezed off a round.
After 20 minutes or so, we went to track the buck and found a nice big spatter of blood on a rock. The buck didn’t get more than 15-20 yards before toppling over from a lung shot.
After much celebration, the hard work had just started. We got him gutted and dragged him back to the truck which felt like a hundred miles away. We got the tag validated and took him to deer camp and hung him in a tree. It was a cold weekend so we were able to work on him right at camp and leave him hanging overnight. Those tenderloins tasted so damn good when we had our camp celebration dinner.
I know it’s a long-winded story but it was extraordinarily exciting to get my first buck!
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