From opening day until Nov. 28, 2004, I let several young bucks and small hogs walk into and out of my sights. I had my single buck tag ready, hoping that one of the big ones would make that fatal mistake. On Nov. 28, in Goliad County, Texas, a wide-racked buck did just that. I have been on this deer lease for four seasons now, and I have seen my share of bucks and hogs. I'm not much of an antler hunter, but I've never seen such a beautiful buck. So I could not pass up this opportunity.

On Saturday, Nov. 27, Tino Ramirez's guest, Robert Ramirez from San Antonio, and I had seen this massive buck chasing does and smaller bucks in the middle pasture. Robert and I walked down to the fence line, trying to get a better view. The bucks' antlers were wide and dark brown with a small kicker on the left side. We watched that buck for 1 1/2 hours. We could even hear it snort. I said to Robert, Man, that would be the buck of a lifetime to shoot. As the evening came to an end, so did the hunt. While leaving the pasture, we saw the buck run off and jump over the fence.

The next morning, as sunlight reflected off the shadows of the game feeder, I saw three does. Suddenly they all ran off, and out from my left came a big, wide buck. He was walking slowly toward the feeder. I got out my binoculars. I could not believe my eyes! It was the same buck I had seen in the pasture Saturday. I tried to stay calm and take several deep breaths, but I couldn't. I could hear my heart pound in my chest and thought it was going to come out. After viewing this monster, there was no doubt I was going to take him. He was walking slowly toward the feeder. I let him get through the barbed wire fence and used my range-finder to get an accurate yardage to the feeder. He was 60 yards away. I lined up my crosshairs and aimed for the shoulder. BOOM! After the shot, I looked out of the deer blind window and said to myself, I know you didn't miss. I secured my rifle and climbed down the blind. I approached the feeder slowly with adrenaline pumping like crazy.

When I saw the massive rack, I howled, YES! YES! Back at camp, my dad, Gene Garcia, and father-in-law, Duane Mac Payne, had heard the shot. They were waiting for me. We headed back to where my monster buck lay. It was so heavy that it took all three of us to load it on the basket. Since I was going to have a shoulder mount made, I was very careful while skinning. I called my hunting buddy, James Doodle Jarnigan, and told him about my buck. He was in Michigan at the time and said he was very happy for me and proud of me. The way I see it, it's just being there at the right time and the right place. It was an awesome and memorable day in my life and I got to share it with my dad and father-in-law. I will never forget it. My daughter, Emily, told me that she wants to go hunting with me. I've taken her before and she really enjoyed seeing the deer, hogs, and birds coming to the feeder. I plan on taking Emily this season.

Hopefully she will be able to harvest a nice buck and get it mounted. I want her to remember the times we spent together and how to appreciate the outdoors. I took my buck to be processed at A&A Processing, and had my buck mounted by Tom Eyler, at South Texas Taxidermy. They do a super job with the processing and mounting. My 13-point buck scored 159 5/8 Boone and Crockett, and had an amazing 21 1/2-inch spread. David Garcia Corpus Christi, Texas

Labels: texas whitetail deer, trophy whitetail buck, whitetail deer hunt, whitetail doe

It was Thanksgiving weekend in 2001 I had been invited to hunt West Texas on a privately owned ranch. I had never hunted and was a little apprehensive about what to expect. We arrived Wednesday afternoon we had a surprised greeting by the ranch owner who informed us he had just purchased land next to the ranch making his ranch over two thousand acres. He invited us to take a ride after we got settled in to look at his new property to see if we wanted to hunt on it or on his older property. He said the new land had not been hunted on for a few years because of illness to the past owner and there may be some big surprises on it.

We were then taken to the bunkhouse that would be our home for a few days, after we unloaded our things I was taken out back given a safety talk about safe hunting and handed a 308 rifle, after a safety lesson on safe usage and care I was told to shoot at the target which was a paper plate with a x marked on it. I received step by step guidance as I amid and took three shots, two on the right of center and one to the left all within a 1 1/2in circle. I must say I was disappointed on missing the center a little pride thing with several experienced hunters watching; however, I was declared ready to hunt and we were told to meet at the truck and bring our rifles because you never know what you might see. I was told to set up front so could receive more safety information they wanted to help me to make sure I had a good time, learned the safe way to hunt and take home some meat.

We drove around the older property seeing beautiful White Tails and Axis bucks, we also saw a lot of Fallow, Axis and Whitetail does. We then started to look at the newly acquired land; we had driven around about fifteen minutes as we started making a right turn we all froze. Just off to the right about seventy five yards in a clearing were five large bucks circling with a doe in the middle. At first they did not see us; the doe was trying to find an opening to run however every time she moved the bucks countered by making the circle smaller. They were acting like a pack of wolfs slowly circling the pray. The doe notice us first turning her head; two buck directly in front of her turned their heads to see what she was looking at. That was all the opening she needed. She darted between them before they could react. Four of the bucks flinched looking at her then back to us, the fifth one never moved.

Finally one of the bucks turned to chase the doe with the other three following. The fifth buck a big 8 point was still standing frozen. I was told to slowly rack in a bullet and to slowly get ready to take a shot. Everyone was frozen watching with anticipation on my first attempt to shoot a deer. I was talked through each movement and finally took the shot. The buck lurched forward and took about twenty steps then dropped. My heart was pounding as we approached the deer, everyone had remain quite until we stood there looking down at this magnificent animal. Finally the silence was broken when someone said you're hooked now and I think you lying about not ever hunted, that was a good shot. We all laughed but could not believe what we had just witnessed and to have that buck just stand there as if he was saying here I am waiting on you take your shot. They were right I was hooked by the time the weekend was over.

We had a great weekend with each of us killing several deer. I killed a fallow and white tail doe and missed a shot at a turkey. I took a lot of kidding that weekend about not being truthful about not ever hunting. Although it is hard to beat your first hunting experience I always looking forward to my next hunt and what surprise it may bring.

Labels: texas whitetail deer, whitetail buck hunts, whitetail deer hunts, whitetail doe hunting

It was cold that morning. I want to say the red line of the rusty outdoor thermometer was nestled in close to twenty-two degrees, but it was too frosted over to tell for sure. The specifics didn't matter. My companion told me all I needed to know, her head cocked, quizzically staring into the thickly frozen surface of her water bowl. Friends like these, huh girl? I muttered as I scratched her head and turned to walk back into the cabin, thinking murderous thoughts about a certain Houston weatherman and his consistent inconsistency.

This cold front had arrived a day early. The dog padded behind me into the cabin, equally disgusted with the whole thing. We stood side-by-side under the dim light of a naked bulb and stared at the meager contents of my bag. White cotton socks. Thin pants. I suddenly understood what Robert Shaw meant in Jaws when he growled, We're gonna need a bigger boat. With no boats, figurative or otherwise, at my immediate disposal, I settled for layering and put into action a time honored move called, Put On Everything You Got. Snugged, cinched, and buckled, I poured the last of the coffee into a styrofoam cup and gingerly stepped out into the blackness. Twenty steps after the cabin door clicked shut behind me and I was already losing my nerve. The wind was up, whipping out of the northeast with the fresh urgency of a new front. I fumbled with gloved hands for the Jeep key as the last of the cabin's warmth was blasted out of me. At that moment, on any other day, I'd have tucked tail and been back in the sleeping bag faster than you can say hypothermia.

Nature's a tough mama, and going toe to toe with her over 22 degrees and a stiff north wind usually puts you on some end of the losing stick. That dark, icy morning and I were engaged in a hand-to-hand battle of wills, but it was only the undercard in a much larger fight. Today was different. Today was the day I would confront HIM. I'd spent most of the season staring at little more than signs of his ghostly passing. The blind was on the north end of the East Texas lease, perched on the edge of a small pipeline overlooking a creek bottom. It was a quiet side of the property, densely wooded with very little traffic. The perfect hideout for any buck wise enough to know so. The scrapes were already there in October, dotting the eastern tree line. It didn't take much scouting to spot the two rubs on another trail, both trees over six inches in diameter. His rutting sign was everywhere and was revisited and freshened with such manic frequency that you could sense his hysteria.

The monster is here, lurking somewhere in this area. And he's lovesick. We've played our chess match all season, the waiting game that ensues between hunter and hunted. In my favor is his desire to breed, a primal force constantly gnawing at him to ignore the safety of his thicket and venture out into the open. In his favor is patience, experience, and the light of a full moon. As the season progresses, the stakes raise. Time is a factor and it's all on his side. I've logged hours upon hours in this blind, with little more to show for it than chapped lips and stiff legs. He's elusive, this one, but he's still here. Tracks appear in the sandy road over night, and does in the area are still skittish, very much in heat. Come hell, high water, 22 degrees or a stiff breeze, we're having this out today. I find the Jeep key, jam it into the ignition with renewed purpose and head north. I ease into the area with plenty of darkness left and am positioned before daybreak. The wind eases slightly but persists nonetheless, carrying my scent away from the creek bottom. Advantage hunter.

I reach down to my right and check the gun. Everything is primed as first light washes over the pipeline. It starts with something as small as a nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Something is not as it should be. The tree lines are empty, branches slowly swaying in the morning wind. The pipeline is empty. I chalk it up to early morning jitters, or maybe too much coffee. But it won't go away. Something is here. I cut my eyes from left tree line to right, desperate for an indicator, rifle now in my lap. And just like that, in one single hair-raising instant, he's standing on the edge of the pipeline. Time slows down, and I struggle to confine the franticness of my movements within a hunter's calm. That old familiar feeling of blood hammering through veins hits me like a freight train. Months of planning, scouting and sitting do little to ease magnitude of the moment, and I struggle to contain my breathing as I find the monster in the scope. I whisper my father's advice like a mantra in my head, squeeze the trigger, squeeze the trigger, squeeze the trigger. Everything culminates in the roar of the .7mm-08, and just as quickly as the moment is upon me, it's over. He scored 144 B.C., and to this day remains the deer I am most proud of. I never listened to that weather man again.

Labels: texas whitetail deer, trophy whitetail buck, whitetail buck hunts, whitetail deer management bucks

I imagine the hunting trips of my youth compare to numerous others hunting trips. By the time I was old enough to hunt, my father and grandfather did not have deer hunting property nor were they on a yearly deer lease. So, I would often go hunting with my father when he was invited by business acquaintances and his friends; or, the three of us would go and my grandfather would pay for day hunts or a day lease. The later of our options (day/day lease hunting) would result in several possible outcomes: a fun trip (successful or not), an interesting trip or a disastrous adventure. Of all the hunting adventures I remember from my youth, two disastrous adventures stand out and one of those is deer hunting related.

Whether or not my grandfather heard of this place from a friend or found the advertisement in the newspaper, I do not know. But, considering the final outcome, I would imagine no friend would refer us there. Sure, he called about it before he paid the initial payment. He was a money conscious man; he wouldn't have just paid that amount of money without at least speaking to the owners/leasers about it first. Unfortunately, a phone call to a place in deep Southwest Texas will only net you what the leaser wants to disclose; and, it's pretty hard to verify that without seeing it firsthand. So, in the days before Google Earth, Yahoo topography maps and Yelp or other online review sites, my grandfather had nothing to go on besides what he heard on the phone. And, apparently, that was enough to convince him. Since we do not have that initial advertisement, I imagine it was something like this: ATTENTION Hunters: 100,000 Acres. Managed Property. Limited hunting for past 10 years. LOTS of deer. Luxury Accommodations. Gourmet Food. For Information Call: ***-***-****.

This adventure started like countless others we had with the exception that one of my cousins was going hunting with us. We left the day before a holiday; my parents were not of the opinion to check me out of classes for days at a time for frivolous trips. [You should know my dad always went prepared for a trip. We took almost anything you could imagine.] This trip, as there were four of us, we hauled all of our gear in a basic covered trailer behind my grandfather's mid 90's model Suburban. We started for Kerrville on old I-10 and made our way towards one of my favorite places to eat, and ultimately towards our reminiscently disastrous and funny adventure. Almost every deer hunting trip, my father/grandfather would stop at one of two restaurants; they became some of my favorite places to eat because I began to associate them with our time together, in addition to the restaurant's good food and atmosphere.

Those two restaurants were The Little Red Barn in San Antonio and Anna Marie's Alpine Lodge and Hotel in Kerrville. Since I have family in San Antonio, I still eat at The Little Red Barn, though not often. Unfortunately, I had forgotten the name of the one in Kerrville; so, I called the Kerrville Visitor's Center to see if they could help and they provided me with the name used in this story. When we stopped in Kerrville, we found an ominous sight. The restaurant, one of my favorites, was inaccessible. We discovered that someone had set the Lodge and Hotel portion on fire (bystander's remarks) interesting and the restaurant was blocked by what appeared to be all the fire trucks and police cars in Kerrville. Since we couldn't get our truck and trailer in the parking lot, we ate elsewhere. I forgot where we ate instead; apparently it was not memorable. After eating, we proceeded on our way. I remember it seemed like we were driving through the same scene for hours; it was just one constant stream of flat ground and limited hills of desert-like landscape.

One of my favorite games from these trips was deer spotting; and, it's still one of my favorite things to do when on a trip through Texas, or anywhere. I'd simply see how many deer I could count, especially when we were near the place where we were going to hunt. This time, I thought I saw deer everywhere. Looking back, it was probably just the landscape playing tricks on my eyes, or all the deer that were scared away from our destination (but, I am getting ahead of myself). After what seemed like an eternity (I was young), we arrived at dusk. We drove through the long entry way to a ranch-style house where a ton of vehicles were parked. We went in and my grandfather paid. First major clue (if you don't count the vehicles): we were invited to the remainder of the gourmet evening meal: spaghetti pasta stained with red sauce lumped together in a basic sauce pan on top of a stove with a spiral burner in a very mundane and small kitchen, which was nowhere near gourmet. Needless to say, we declined.

After that, we were shown to the stellar accommodations. Second major clue: bunk beds stacked 3 high in a 10am ceiling room. Once we got our things stowed for the evening, we talked a little and then got into bed. My cousin was on the bottom bunk, I was in the middle bunk and my dad decided to have the top bunk because it was the hardest to get in (and because I think he worried that I would roll out). To say there was limited space doesn't even come close to the truth. There was little space on the bottom two beds, but the person on top got to sleep with the ceiling less than 2ft from his face. And, at the time, my dad was a pretty large man and him getting on the top bunk to begin with was treacherous. He thought, though he didn't tell me at the time, that he was going to fall through the bunk springs, crush me and have to explain my injuries to my mom. With the three of us squeezed together in one place, my grandfather slept in a different bunking system close by.

In the morning, we discovered my grandfather was missing. We looked for him everywhere. My dad was in borderline panic mode at this point: after a night of fitful sleeping, worrying that he might break the bed and crush his son, he woke up to realize his father-in-law has gone missing in the middle of nowhere. Then, my dad decided to check the truck and found him. My grandfather had taken to the truck because the snoring was so loud and decided to spend the evening sleeping in a vehicle without the heater running and the outside ambient temperature falling to about freezing. Third major clue: After locating my grandfather, getting suited up for the morning hunt and getting our gear organized, we met at least 2 dozen people outside the ranch house.

We were instructed to divide up between 2 pickup trucks and squeeze at least a dozen of us in the bed of each truck. Our truck drove us through the property (following the first) and eventually split up at a fork. Our truck drove maybe 100 yards from the fork and stopped. They let a person out and drove about another 100 yards, stopped to let another get out, and drove on. This went on until it was our turn. When it was our turn, we got out and received limited directions to the stand. And, before we made it 5 yards off the road, the truck commenced its routine and left us in the dark. Thankfully we made it to the blind without a mishap. That morning, we neither saw any deer nor did we hear anyone in the endless countryside fire a weapon. So, we chit-chatted and we both read a book.

Regardless of our trip's outcome, our purpose in going was to get away, spend time together and enjoy God's Country; if we were lucky and skilled enough to kill an animal, it was a plus, but it wasn't a need. Sure, my dad and I always hoped of shooting a mature, hug-racked buck, but our trips were worth more than that. I admit, initially I just wanted to go hunting with my dad; but, as I aged, so did my perspective. There's just something indescribable about being away from a city and being in the woods, or desert in this case. It's relaxing, but you really do appreciate how wonderfully amazing God made our planet. And, in my case and my father's, we haven't been on a hunting trip together since I was completing my undergraduate degree in 2000. For me, I haven't been deer hunting since 2002, almost 10 years ago. I miss my time in the woods, the alone time and bonding time; I miss the time I was able to spend with my dad most of all. Even with all the other types of hunting, my dad and I never seem to have the same off days. Getting back on track and back to our adventure, we continued to hunt that evening and the next morning without either set of hunters (me and my dad, my cousin and grandfather) seeing anything.

I don't think I saw a single deer killed in the entire camp the first day and a half we were there. The second evening, my dad and I finally heard a shot ring out over the flatness. And, as we were going through the evening pickups, we discovered my cousin had shot a deer, but he had gut-shot the deer. I love my cousin, but in the two trips he took with us, he gut-shot two deer (one on each trip). In this case, we searched for a half an hour and couldn't find any sign of a trail. So, we were left to our only option, return to the cabin empty handed. The next morning marked our last morning and last hunt. Like the last couple days, with the exception of the prior night, no one saw a single deer. My cousin and grandfather were in the same location as the previous night, so they eventually gave up on sitting and started looking for the deer again; we found them at it when we came to pick them up.

When we got back to the luxury accommodations, we packed up and were about to leave when we saw 4 guys on an elevated platform return from hunting. Even with their platform and their guide, none of them saw a deer. (As for my cousin's deer, they found it a couple days later. It was about the size of a Great Dane before it was dressed.) Leaving, we took the same route home as we took to this luxurious ranch. We stopped in Kerrville again to try that restaurant to find that someone had set fire to the Lodge again. We decided to eat somewhere else, and it was as memorable as the previous place. When we finally made it home, initially our morale was low. But, with the passing of time and the more we tell this story adventure that has transformed from a disaster to something that will forever be remembered in the annals of our family's hunting history, especially among those hunting trips shared by my grandfather, my father and me.

Labels: Texas Whitetail Deer Hunting, trophy whitetail buck, Whitetail Deer Bow Hunting, whitetail doe

I don't think that I had ever felt that cold in my entire life, at least in those first nine years. I don't believe I had ever been outside on so cold a day so early in the morning as I was on December 31, 1988. Being nine years old, I didn't really have much basis for comparison, but I will never forget how absolutely cold I felt that morning. I honestly think what made the experience so much worse for me was that I was really down on myself because I had already missed one deer the previous morning. Disappointment and cold make a fine recipe for discomfort, at least in the 9 year old mind. I'd never really been deer hunting before either. I'd never had to sit stone silent in a blind, never had to travel in a car for 7 hours anywhere, and never experienced the elements as I had that weekend.

As I look back on it, however, I feel like I learned a lot of valuable lessons on that trip to the Escondido Ranch. The first lesson was one that has stuck with me for the longest time: disappointment. The single most humbling thing my nine year old mind had experienced prior to that weekend was striking out four times in a row in a little league game. While the pre-adolescent male ego can certainly be shattered by such a traumatic series of plate appearances, little does more to deflate that same ego than going on a deer hunt, firing your rifle in the bitter cold, and having nothing to show for it save a bruise to the left shoulder and a boot full of cactus spines.

The latter came from my own personal attempt at refining the art of sulking while pretending to track the non-existent blood trail I swore was there. For me, defeat was not an option. There was a deer on the ground somewhere and I intended to find it. Second, I learned the value of spending time with your family. My father and I were spending that weekend hunting together and Dad assured me that we were going to be successful. I, however, had succeeded so far in shooting a tree stump (I think), stepping in a prickly pear cactus, and nearly falling into the river in sub-freezing temperatures. I was great company to be around. I finally realized how foolishly I was acting when someone asked me how many deer I thought that they had shot at and missed in their lifetime. I was about to reply with something rather smart-alecky when I realized it was my dad asking the question.

I also realized that I was spending a very special trip focusing on things that I couldn't control when I should really have been making the most of an opportunity to be with my father. Looking back, I realize now just how special that trip would be. The final lesson I learned on that trip was the value of perseverance. After missing the first deer, I decided I couldn't shoot straight, I didn't know how to use a scope, and that I would most likely never actually kill a deer. There was a part of me that was ready to pack my stuff up, ask to go home, and I was close to deciding that I'd never go hunting again. It's very easy to view yourself as a failure, especially when you haven't been a success to date. I just needed a little inspiration, and that came from my dad. He told me how his first deer hunt was not the resounded success I had imagined it to be. He shared that he too had missed his share of deer, and that the real test is how everyone deals with their setbacks.

It was then that I realized failure wasn't missing the deer; failure was not going out and trying to get the next one. I did end up shooting my first deer on that cold morning of December 31, and it's a memory I will cherish forever. I am grateful to my father for taking me on that first hunt, and it's one of those things I can't wait to share with my own children someday. That hunt was a unique time for my father and me to share, and that first deer is a memory that will last a lifetime.

Labels: trophy whitetail buck, whitetail deer hunt, whitetail doe

This is not my first year to deer hunt with a bow but it has been my first to be succesful with a bow. A few years back I was on a lease in montgomery county were I first tried to bow hunt, didnt realy know what I was doing but tried it out set up in a chair in some bushes near a trail were deer had been coming through. There was a trail in front of me that also came accroos the trail that i had set up on and as you would know it this is were the deer came from, so all i could do was sit there as the first deer came it was a doe she snorted and stommped and would run back then walk back up to me and do it all over again. This went on for a least 10 to 15 minutes and all i could do was watch for she was right in front of me looking directly at me.

Finally she left and all I could do was think why did I set up were I did and catch my breath from trying to sit so still and not move all the while,while she did her dance in front of me trying to get me to move. Then after all that I got to watch a decent 8 pointer come down the same trail and walk right past me and again all I could do was sit and watch couldnt move because they all had came down the trail that I didnt expect them to come from but as we all know that as is hunting or fishing you never know were they will be from day to day but you know they are always there. Well that lease was sold out from under us and hadnt hunted much for a few years but starting to get back into it now with my 13 year old son went in july and he shot a Aoudad and I shot and axis and doe axis.

So after that got my old bow out and started shooting again in the last month I have shot 2 deer and 1 hog with my bow and all I want to do now is bow hunt it was such a high the first deer a doe as before i set up on a trail were the deer were coming through and set up in some bushes but after my first experince bow hunting i learned my lesson of were to set up on the trail. I have a 4 PVC feeder that hold 40 pounds of corn so filled it up and went and sit dowm and waited had been there about an hour and the seat was getting uncomfortable so stood up to strech my legs when I noticed behind me were 2 deer standing less than 15 yards away from me watched as they came around the bush and grunted and my first bow shot on a deer and hour later I had my first deer with a bow. After that I shot a 40 pund hog about a week later while spot and stalking hogs made about a 10 yard shot on it while it was walking by.

A week later i went back to were i had shot the doe and set up for a morning hunt and had what was a 8 pointer at one time but he had broken off nearly all his horns come in and go to the feeder and then he ran out in front of me and gave me a quartering shot and i made my second bow shot on a deer and all he had left of arack was 1 on one side and 2 points on the other all the rest was broke off but as before it was so exciting to bow hunt, I'm hooked now as befor all I want to do is bow hunt now. This will defently not be my last year to bow hunt ,will be getting my son set up with his bow soon and as I am hope he will catch the bow hunting bug as I have.

Labels: texas whitetail deer, Texas Whitetail Deer Hunting, Whitetail Deer Bow Hunting

Looking back several years ago to 2008, I can't help but think of an emotional encounter while bow hunting a small private property in the early hours of December. That morning started out just like many other exuberant hunts as I was beginning another journey into the wilderness of unknown certainty. I can think of no other adventure or aspiration than that of the outdoors with the opportunity to broaden my experience with an overwhelming anticipation to hunt. I woke up to a bit of an unusual morning that day at 4am and discovered that the cold front that had passed the previous day had left its arctic grasp in central Texas. Low clouds, high humidity and very cold conditions foreshadowed an exciting quest to hunt. Temperatures were hovering around 19 degrees Fahrenheit with an impenetrable layer of mist that froze to anything on contact. Layered thoroughly as feasibly possible, my body was prepared and my mind was set.

The sacrifices made in weather like this proved that my yearning to hunt was second to none. With bow in hand and early morning darkness on my side, I marched to my tripod stand nestled in a concentrated group of oak and cedar which was later nicknamed The Cave. My father and I had come to name this location as The Cave because of the way the trees and substantial cover were situated on a shallow down sloped bank of land. There was only one way in and one way out providing a funnel for an abundance of wildlife to flood through. The tall thick oak trees presented a shadowed canopy that was accompanied by dense cedar filling in the open space below. Situated under a large dominant oak tree was my 12 foot tripod completely oblivious to any wildlife or person around.

Established on top and prepared for another opportunity to seize the day, I prepared my mind and body for a long wintery hunt. As the mist settled and froze wherever it landed, my bow soon began to gather a thin film of clear ice. Hunkered down shivering and teeth chattering, I gathered my thoughts and prepped my mind on the potential excitement of what might come. As the sun started to slowly climb out of the eastern sky behind a thick misty morning, I could slowly start to see the shapes and contours of the wilderness around. All senses were on full alert as I knew the prime opportunity was slowly beginning to rise. The faintest of noises were heard as leaves and twigs began to crack below. I knew the moment had arrived. My mind had gathered enough information from my surroundings to know deer were nearby and making their way through this funneled array of dense cover.

Excitement within began to rise as my heart beat increased. Anticipation drew near with the possibility of the unknown drawing close. Just as the deer moved from behind a growth of cedar, I couldn't help but think of my first hunt with my father as a child and the awe-inspiring excitement I had. In a matter of seconds, 4 bucks had stepped on scene and provided an opportunity of a lifetime. As light slowly began to gather, I examined each and every buck to determine which one if any was mature enough to harvest. Of the 4 bucks that strolled in, 2 were of maturity. I had previously ranged certain distances and knew exactly how far each and every buck was. The wind was low and by my calculations, the buck I had intended to shoot was standing 20 yards away. With every beat of my thumping heart, I slowly gathered my bow in hand and began the incredibly precise approach of locking into my target and pulling back. As I summoned my strength and controlled my breathing as best I could, I began the draw.

Frost that had assembled on my bow began to break and as I reached the break on the pull of the icy string, a faint shallow rip of noise alerted the deer. The sound made from the pull can be best described as that of climbing into the saddle sitting on top of my horse. The muffled sound projected through the air just enough to signal the deer and place them on full alert. The break of my draw made just enough noise to scamper the bucks about 10 yards further than what I had mentally ranged them at. I quickly reexamined the distance and determined the bucks were now somewhere between 28-30 yards away. I set my 2nd pin on the mature 8 point and controlled every breath I had. What seemed like minutes, I had registered the distance, took meticulous aim and slowly squeezed my bow release. The arrow flew straight and precise in what seemed like slow motion striking the buck 2 inches behind the shoulder as it stood perfectly broadside. The arrow exited the far side of the buck with a new color of crimson red laying several yards beyond the buck. The buck leaped high, kicked with great terror and made a 90 degree turn to run for cover.

Exhilarated and beyond belief, I found myself rapidly breathing and rejoiced that I had made a perfect kill shot on the mature buck I had always wanted. The unbelievable emotions and uncontrollable trembling that developed was the result of pure resiliency and passionate desire called hunting. I waited for what seemed like hours replaying the previous moments over and over before I ventured out of my stand and began the most anticipated trek to locate this deer I had been so blessed to harvest. With the help of my father's friend, we located the buck approximately 75 yards away from the shot. A swarm of emotions engulfed my thoughts as I marveled at my accomplishment.

As with each successful hunt, I gave thanks to God for providing me this gift of an opportunity to hunt and harvest a beautiful animal with which I loved so admirably. My frigid body was overwhelmed with joy as I blessed this hunt to those who had helped me grow into the man I am and teach me what I knew. I feel blessed and gracious for all that I have encountered and want to continue these lessons in life for as long as I can. Hopefully I can soon experience another opportunity like this and share it to my son in the near future. I live to feel this moment and hope for more to come. Carpe diem

Labels: whitetail buck hunts, whitetail deer hunts, whitetail doe hunting