By Ron Muller
It was August and as the days were getting shorter I was planning my upcoming hunting season. This year I was hoping to take a moose and a good whitetail buck. As always, I was also setting some goals for what I would consider a keeper buck. The whitetail I was hoping to take this year would not only have to score reasonably well but would have to have some real character. I couldn’t help but wonder if I would have the will power when the time came to hold off on shooting the first decent buck that presented itself. Little did I know that the will power I would later exercise would be so handsomely rewarded.
The region I hunt, west central Alberta, has a season for whitetails running from mid September to the end of November thus allowing one to hunt during the various phases of their rut. Thus it was on a clear, cool, September evening that I found myself sitting under a tree watching a field that normally is visited by a bachelor group of bucks. Because of the current drought, I was unsure if the deer would appear in the field, but after being patient for several hours I saw a 4 x 4 buck appear at a range of about 250 yards. Time to exercise my will power!
The buck, although unaware of my presence, seemed reluctant to venture out into the field and kept watching the forest from which he came. After a few more minutes I began hearing the sound of antlers clashing together. The 4 x 4 buck was still there and had taken on a ringside view of two other bucks sparing in a pre-rut contest. Since the struggle was taking place behind a rise at the end of the field and with fading light, I elected to try a stalk. While the first buck was pre-occupied by the continuing fight, I was successful in closing the distance by about 50 yards. At that point the buck took notice and forced me to hold my position. Holding my position and still hoping to see the sparing bucks, I gave two grunts on my deer call. This drew the immediate attention of the bucks which stopped short their contest and looked up. I was astonished to see the heads of two magnificent bucks. While desperately wanting to try a shot, the difficulty of the shot (free hand, dim light, head shot, and 200 yards) made me hold off to try again another day. Despite my lack of success, I was pleased that I still had a chance to get one of the bucks.
The following week I used the same approach and was excited to see several does come out into the field. My anticipation turned to frustration however, when a pair of quads came tearing through the field. Needless to say, the bucks never showed up that evening.
With the end of September approaching, it was time to head north to try for my moose. After two days of hunting, I was able to harvest a nice three year old bull. That, however, is another story and because of this trip, my next attempt at the buck would be about mid October.
By mid October, the bucks in this neck of the woods are disbanding their bachelor groups and move to an area on the other side of the local lake. Taking this into account, I decided to still hunt an area in which I had previously taken several nice bucks. Since still hunting this area successfully called for close range shooting, I elected to hunt with my lever action .45-70. So while standing in the pre-dawn darkness quietly loading my rifle and contemplating the route I was about to take I heard the unmistakable sound of deer moving through the bush.
With the wind in my favor, the ground wet from a recent snowfall, and an intimate knowledge of the deer’s probable path, I went after the deer I had just heard. Within about 300 yards I again heard the deer moving through the forest ahead of me. Knowing that the deer were not alarmed, I cautiously pursued in the cool dim morning. Stopping at the edge of a clearing I began to make out the shape of a deer warily watching it’s back trail. Knowing that if I did not make a sudden move me the deer would not run. The range to the deer was about 50 yards and as time went on I began to make out the antlers on a buck; the same buck I had passed up several weeks earlier! Making the mistake of just watching this buck, I did not notice the other shapes in the bush behind him. The instant that I realized that there were two other bucks accompanying him, I lost the opportunity to fire, and the bucks were gone. Being somewhat dejected, I took solace in the fact that I had at least caught the bucks in their element.
The following weekend I again exited my truck in the pre-dawn morning. This time however I heard the eerie song of a wolf pack in the area I wanted to hunt. Then while standing in the early light of day and contemplating my next move as I knew the chances of finding a deer in an area with wolves were next to none, to my left, appearing as quietly as ghosts, the form of two deer appeared. Although the deer stared at me trying to determine what I was and I could clearly see the outline of what were two bucks, I could not raise my rifle quickly enough to take a shot. With two strides, the bucks disappeared into the bush. While the small buck was absent, I was sure that these were the same two bucks I had been chasing all year and that I had stumbled onto the trail they were using on a daily basis. Beaten again!
With all the anticipation in the world, I waited patiently to hunt that spot again. When the weekend came I made sure to give myself enough time in the morning to set up. After a brief wait I started to make an occasional buck grunt. The second call I made was answered with the sound of a buck thrashing a tree. After another call the buck made his appearance at a range of about 100 yards. Seeing clearly for the first time his antlers my buck fever kicked in. The scoped .300 Winchester Magnum I was now carrying to help with the dim light roared in the frosty morning air. The buck looked as if it was hit but did not go down and was off into the forest. I now saw the other buck about 20 yards away from where the first buck had been and saw an even more impressive rack. Knowing that I had probably hit the first buck, I watched with awe as the second buck whirled around with a snort and disappeared. I couldn’t believe that I had probably just blown the last chance I was going to get at one of these bucks!
After giving the buck some time I went to look for signs of a hit. With little snow I knew that the tracking was going to be difficult but with some patience I was rewarded to find a spot of blood. Quietly following the trail through the bush for about an hour I began to become discouraged. I was cursing my poor marksmanship and wondering how badly the deer was hit. Spot by spot I followed the trail. I marked trees with tissue paper every time I found blood. Looking down and finding a good spot of blood, I was horrified to see I was marking the tree that I had already marked. The deer was of sound enough mind to take me in a big circle! Somewhat desperate, I found the buck’s trail out of the loop. With another 100 yards of tracking, I saw that the buck went to a scrape. Thinking how bad the buck could be hurt if still wanting to visit a scrape I looked up just in time to see the buck staring at me from about 20 yards. Not able to get a shot, I ran after him.
I caught him crossing a clearing and took a running shot through the trees. The shot missed and I continued to chase the now obviously nearly exhausted buck. I ran to the spot where the buck had disappeared. I was down to a single shell and knew that I needed to make the next shot count. Wondering which way to go I looked around and saw I sight I will never forget. The buck was just glaring at me from the other side of a windfall. Most of the buck was hidden and being winded after chasing him, I took the best shot I could. I hit the tree and the buck was off again. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I watched the deer run through the trees and into an opening where he stumbled and fell. I ran up to where the mighty buck had fallen just to watch him expire. My last round had gone through the tree and hit him in the neck.
I was over a mile to the road and another mile to my truck. After field dressing the buck and several hours of hauling, the hunt was over.
Looking at this buck on the wall makes me realize many things. How much spirit a buck can posses, how lucky I was, how not shooting the 4 x 4 buck kept my hopes for a big buck alive, how unfortunate my bullet placement was and how a large caliber will not make up for poor marksmanship, and how even now after harvesting an even larger whitetail, I will never be able to beat the experience I gained from that hunt. The satisfaction of harvesting the big, mature, deep woods buck will always be with me and will keep me inspired to continue hunting for as long as I can.
P.S. The buck scored reasonably well with thirteen points and had all the character I could handle.
Provided by HuntingNet.com
It was August and as the days were getting shorter I was planning my upcoming hunting season. This year I was hoping to take a moose and a good whitetail buck. As always, I was also setting some goals for what I would consider a keeper buck. The whitetail I was hoping to take this year would not only have to score reasonably well but would have to have some real character. I couldn’t help but wonder if I would have the will power when the time came to hold off on shooting the first decent buck that presented itself. Little did I know that the will power I would later exercise would be so handsomely rewarded.
The region I hunt, west central Alberta, has a season for whitetails running from mid September to the end of November thus allowing one to hunt during the various phases of their rut. Thus it was on a clear, cool, September evening that I found myself sitting under a tree watching a field that normally is visited by a bachelor group of bucks. Because of the current drought, I was unsure if the deer would appear in the field, but after being patient for several hours I saw a 4 x 4 buck appear at a range of about 250 yards. Time to exercise my will power!
The buck, although unaware of my presence, seemed reluctant to venture out into the field and kept watching the forest from which he came. After a few more minutes I began hearing the sound of antlers clashing together. The 4 x 4 buck was still there and had taken on a ringside view of two other bucks sparing in a pre-rut contest. Since the struggle was taking place behind a rise at the end of the field and with fading light, I elected to try a stalk. While the first buck was pre-occupied by the continuing fight, I was successful in closing the distance by about 50 yards. At that point the buck took notice and forced me to hold my position. Holding my position and still hoping to see the sparing bucks, I gave two grunts on my deer call. This drew the immediate attention of the bucks which stopped short their contest and looked up. I was astonished to see the heads of two magnificent bucks. While desperately wanting to try a shot, the difficulty of the shot (free hand, dim light, head shot, and 200 yards) made me hold off to try again another day. Despite my lack of success, I was pleased that I still had a chance to get one of the bucks.
The following week I used the same approach and was excited to see several does come out into the field. My anticipation turned to frustration however, when a pair of quads came tearing through the field. Needless to say, the bucks never showed up that evening.
With the end of September approaching, it was time to head north to try for my moose. After two days of hunting, I was able to harvest a nice three year old bull. That, however, is another story and because of this trip, my next attempt at the buck would be about mid October.
By mid October, the bucks in this neck of the woods are disbanding their bachelor groups and move to an area on the other side of the local lake. Taking this into account, I decided to still hunt an area in which I had previously taken several nice bucks. Since still hunting this area successfully called for close range shooting, I elected to hunt with my lever action .45-70. So while standing in the pre-dawn darkness quietly loading my rifle and contemplating the route I was about to take I heard the unmistakable sound of deer moving through the bush.
With the wind in my favor, the ground wet from a recent snowfall, and an intimate knowledge of the deer’s probable path, I went after the deer I had just heard. Within about 300 yards I again heard the deer moving through the forest ahead of me. Knowing that the deer were not alarmed, I cautiously pursued in the cool dim morning. Stopping at the edge of a clearing I began to make out the shape of a deer warily watching it’s back trail. Knowing that if I did not make a sudden move me the deer would not run. The range to the deer was about 50 yards and as time went on I began to make out the antlers on a buck; the same buck I had passed up several weeks earlier! Making the mistake of just watching this buck, I did not notice the other shapes in the bush behind him. The instant that I realized that there were two other bucks accompanying him, I lost the opportunity to fire, and the bucks were gone. Being somewhat dejected, I took solace in the fact that I had at least caught the bucks in their element.
The following weekend I again exited my truck in the pre-dawn morning. This time however I heard the eerie song of a wolf pack in the area I wanted to hunt. Then while standing in the early light of day and contemplating my next move as I knew the chances of finding a deer in an area with wolves were next to none, to my left, appearing as quietly as ghosts, the form of two deer appeared. Although the deer stared at me trying to determine what I was and I could clearly see the outline of what were two bucks, I could not raise my rifle quickly enough to take a shot. With two strides, the bucks disappeared into the bush. While the small buck was absent, I was sure that these were the same two bucks I had been chasing all year and that I had stumbled onto the trail they were using on a daily basis. Beaten again!
With all the anticipation in the world, I waited patiently to hunt that spot again. When the weekend came I made sure to give myself enough time in the morning to set up. After a brief wait I started to make an occasional buck grunt. The second call I made was answered with the sound of a buck thrashing a tree. After another call the buck made his appearance at a range of about 100 yards. Seeing clearly for the first time his antlers my buck fever kicked in. The scoped .300 Winchester Magnum I was now carrying to help with the dim light roared in the frosty morning air. The buck looked as if it was hit but did not go down and was off into the forest. I now saw the other buck about 20 yards away from where the first buck had been and saw an even more impressive rack. Knowing that I had probably hit the first buck, I watched with awe as the second buck whirled around with a snort and disappeared. I couldn’t believe that I had probably just blown the last chance I was going to get at one of these bucks!
After giving the buck some time I went to look for signs of a hit. With little snow I knew that the tracking was going to be difficult but with some patience I was rewarded to find a spot of blood. Quietly following the trail through the bush for about an hour I began to become discouraged. I was cursing my poor marksmanship and wondering how badly the deer was hit. Spot by spot I followed the trail. I marked trees with tissue paper every time I found blood. Looking down and finding a good spot of blood, I was horrified to see I was marking the tree that I had already marked. The deer was of sound enough mind to take me in a big circle! Somewhat desperate, I found the buck’s trail out of the loop. With another 100 yards of tracking, I saw that the buck went to a scrape. Thinking how bad the buck could be hurt if still wanting to visit a scrape I looked up just in time to see the buck staring at me from about 20 yards. Not able to get a shot, I ran after him.
I caught him crossing a clearing and took a running shot through the trees. The shot missed and I continued to chase the now obviously nearly exhausted buck. I ran to the spot where the buck had disappeared. I was down to a single shell and knew that I needed to make the next shot count. Wondering which way to go I looked around and saw I sight I will never forget. The buck was just glaring at me from the other side of a windfall. Most of the buck was hidden and being winded after chasing him, I took the best shot I could. I hit the tree and the buck was off again. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I watched the deer run through the trees and into an opening where he stumbled and fell. I ran up to where the mighty buck had fallen just to watch him expire. My last round had gone through the tree and hit him in the neck.
I was over a mile to the road and another mile to my truck. After field dressing the buck and several hours of hauling, the hunt was over.
Looking at this buck on the wall makes me realize many things. How much spirit a buck can posses, how lucky I was, how not shooting the 4 x 4 buck kept my hopes for a big buck alive, how unfortunate my bullet placement was and how a large caliber will not make up for poor marksmanship, and how even now after harvesting an even larger whitetail, I will never be able to beat the experience I gained from that hunt. The satisfaction of harvesting the big, mature, deep woods buck will always be with me and will keep me inspired to continue hunting for as long as I can.
P.S. The buck scored reasonably well with thirteen points and had all the character I could handle.
Provided by HuntingNet.com