Posted by: Thomas

This story begins a few days ago when I climbed a tree on a a property I hadn’t hunted yet this year. The wind was perfect and there had been a couple of nice bucks visiting a scrape over the past few days during early daylight hours, and I was there to take advantage of it! It was warmer than I had anticipated and I managed to work up quite a lather getting in this stand. As I sat there trying to cool off, I noticed a deer working the ridge upwind of my set. Upon further inspection I could see it was a nice buck, in fact it was one of the decent bucks that was consistently visiting the scrape that was a mere 20 yards from my tree.

As frustration was building and time off was growing short, and since that particular day was my son’s 5th birthday, I decided to take this buck if he would present a shot. I gave him a couple grunts and he turned my way and began his descent from the ridge down into the bottom where I was sitting. He came to a fork in the trail and chose the one that would put him in a shooting lane at 30 yards. I came to full draw and didn’t even have to ‘murp’ to stop him–he paused, I settled the pin and squeezed the trigger. The arrow flew true, but it was so quiet he jumped the sound of my bow releasing the arrow and I struck him high. I thought I had the angle I needed for that broadhead to hit some vitals, but unfortunately as he squatted he also began to turn away taking away the angle I needed.

I chose to let him lay for six to seven hours and came back hoping to pick up the trail, but only found blood for 30-40 yards, which was extremely thin anyways. We spread out and gridded the timber in every direction looking for any sign, but came up empty handed. I was pretty disappointed…

I hunted the next day without seeing another shooter, but getting back in the tree was the right choice and I was back in predator mode. I had made a plan for the morning of November 16th to get in a freshly hung stand I called the Krippler Korner Extension. Essentially, it is located about 75 yards to the south of Krippler’s Korner where Droppy was wounded by a friend last year along with a bunch of other stories I won’t go into. I picked this new spot based on a very busy fence crossing where I have seen deer cross daily nearly every time I hunt the area. I love this particular part of the farm, I have killed does and one other exceptional buck just 50 yards to the west. And I also missed a great buck a couple years ago, which still remains etched in my memory. This new stand is great, and is the ideal spot-on-the-spot.

I made sure I was out at the tree with plenty of time because I had to cross a food source in order to access the set, which usually resulted in a few spooked deer.

Here is a look at my view of where the buck stood when I shot him. The shooting lane is in the center of the photo.

But with the wind in my face and it being well in advance of dawn I knew I could make it happen without any substantial damage to the deer in the immediate vicinity. I only heard one snort, so I felt good about things.

After about 10 minutes in the stand and getting everything hung up and the Ozonics turned on, I heard antlers in a tree close by. I looked towards the pond and saw a dark figure working a scrape, but couldn’t adequately gauge his rack size. I kept trying to look through my binocs, but with the cold and flat calm conditions I was steaming up the lenses and wasn’t able to see anything. He broke away from the scrape and headed right towards me. He paused to look at the fence crossing before continuing to the base of my tree. I could tell he wasn’t quite a shooter so I let him walk.

Here is his final view...

Five minutes later another similar buck did the same thing except he crossed the fence to head out into the soybean field. There were a few other deer in the field now and one stood out to me. It had a very dark coat and seemed bigger than the other deer. I grunted at him and tried to look through my binocs to get a better look at him. He threw his head up at the sound of the grunt and I really liked what I saw.

I gave him another grunt and he started running right to me. I decided that if he would offer a shot I would take it even though he was far from my biggest. What he would mean to me was the basis of my trophy perspective.

Bloody arrow among the frosted blades of grass.

At this point in my season and last year’s season also very difficult, I needed to make a decision that would positively impact my 2012 season– this buck more than fit the bill. I felt like he would more than fairly represent the efforts I put in over the last two years–it was time for blood.

This buck continued in my direction and then committed to the fence crossing that was 20 yards in front of my set. Interestingly, this buck approached from the downwind side of where I was and I fully expected him to catch a nose-full at some point, but he never did. I have had a few negative reactions to the Ozonics, but lately I have had a bunch of positive encounters where the deer should have smelled me, but didn’t adjust their path of travel.

An example of the epic blood trail.

The buck approached my shooting lane and I came to full draw. As they usually do, he stopped just prior to where I would have a shot and I had to hold draw for what seemed like forever, but was likely only a minute and a half or so. As soon as he indicated movement forward, I looked through my peep and grunted to stop him perfectly broadside at 20 yards. I concentrated as hard as I ever have and squeezed the release.

At that very moment I knew I had just delivered a slam dunk. The arrow passed completely through him and he donkey-kicked as he leaped across the fence, ran about 40 yards where he began to empty out. Steam was shooting out of his nostrils and also out of either side of his chest where the arrow had changed his life. Blood was pouring out of both sides and he began loose his composure. He rounded a corner of the pond and began the death throes where he expired only a few seconds after taking an arrow through the lungs. I was elated…

Trail's End!

Immediately following this event, I could see steam rising from the ground along the epic blood trail. It only lasted a few more seconds as the blood quickly froze to the alf-alfa stems, but seeing that last bit if life rise from the field in the pre-sunrise frosty air concluded the hunt for me in a paramount way. It was 6:54 AM.

This buck is not one I know or have any pictures of, but he means more to me than about any other trophy I have taken as he represents the ups and many downs of the last two seasons. He will proudly hang among my greatest whitetail accomplishments. He will never be scored as scores are hardly fair to eight-pointers and will serve as a reminder of what we as whitetail fanatics go through year in and year out. There is no guarantee of success, rather a guarantee of humility as God’s creation continues to educate and amaze me.

This is living!

Ultimate satisfaction!