I asked y'all what you wanted to read about and one of the topics that really hit home for me was "hunting stories from growing up and lessons you've learned" (Thanks Curt). So I figured I'd tell two hunting stories from when I was younger where I was faced with what was, at the time, the biggest buck I had ever seen.
First off, I'd like to admit, that as much as I would like to think I've learned from these encounters, this past season where I pulled my shot on what would have been the biggest buck of my life, has shown me that no matter how hard you practice or how much you learn, these deer will always take you to school.
I was about 11-12 years old and I was hunting the lease we had in Morgan County, GA. I had been fortunate and killed a deer every year I had hunted. So with a little bit of experience under my belt, I began to read all I could in North American Whitetail and other outdoor magazines to try to capitalize on a big buck. The theme of the year, mid-day sits. Every article talked about how deer pattern hunters just about as much as we pattern them. To me, it made sense, we'd wake up really early in the morning, sit until about eleven or so, then go back to camp, hangout by the fire, eat lunch, play wiffleball or whatever until about four when we'd all head back out to the stand and sit until dark. This year however, was going to be different. I was dedicated, I had just gotten a brand new single seater stand form my dad that he and my godfather made by hand, it's still one of the most comfortable stands I have. I asked dad directly after the morning hunt if we could scout and hang my new stand. So we went to a spot where the road cut into a hill and deer tracks seemed to always cover the ground. It was an old clear cut area that had nice trails running all through the tall grass. I found a good tree and set up. It was about noon and I asked Dad, "can we start hunting now?" It was warm that day and we hadn't eaten anything yet, so we went back to camp had a sandwich and went back in the woods. Dad was worried about me hunting completely by myself so he set up his climber on a tree 50 yards away from me. I got all settled in and Dad said he was gonna go back to the ATV to get his coveralls on since it was going to get cold that evening. As he went back to change I began to think of all the possibilities that could potentially come from this new spot. I started to hear some crunching on leaves and breaking sticks, thinking it was my dad, I turned to watch him come in, only to find that it was a GIANT six point walking in on the same trail my dad just walked out on! He walked right next to Dad's climber and I got my rifle and settled on his shoulder.... POW!.... Missed! I reloaded but the deer never left! He just lifted his head and looked around, again... POW!.. Missed again!!! This time the buck starts to walk towards me! I reload again, forty yards and closing, I take a deep breath, then another, I settle on the shoulder, .... let half of my breath out, ... begin to slowly squeeze, ...and *click! I had forgotten to come all the way back on my bolt when I attempted to reload. As an emotional wreck, I rack my bolt back, jack a round in the chamber and just as I go to get settled, the buck spooks and takes off. Out of my life forever. I tried everything to get him to stop, but it was all in vain, he was gone.
Many lessons were learned that day, I rushed my shot not once, but three times. Dad ended up seeing that buck the following archery season, but due to the lease rules (at least 4 points on one side for adults) he was unable to take him, and the "Monster 6" lived on.
Fast forward about six years, we had lost that lease, but my friends had gotten me into bowhunting. For me, I wasn't completely sold on bowhunting at first due to having to be in close quarters to deer and I didn't think I had the patience to wait for a deer to close the distance from 100 yards when I could just take him with a rifle. Man, was I mistaken! My first bow kill was a three-legged hog. The rush of her coming in to fifteen yards, the THWACK! of my broadhead smacking her side as bright, red blood gushed out, will be a memory and an experience I won't ever forget, and it ended up becoming the catalyst that turned me into a die hard bowhunter. However, bowhunting has become the harshest teacher of all, and my first lesson was no exception.
I had become extremely proficient with my old bow. It was handed down to me from my dad who told me that it was
his first bow as well, a Bear Whitetail II. I was one of the better shots between me and my friends, and I shot through the local Bass Pro Shop 3D Pop-Up Course and was able to execute consistent kill shots. I had become proficient out to about 40 yards. Many trips to J.W. Corbett, all ending in heartbreak and my days of bowhunting Florida were getting short due to my enlistment into the U.S. Coast Guard. My basic training date was October 6th, and it was coming up fast. As a "thank you", our very good family friend, Clair, had given me his tag for killing a buck on the ranch I had been running around on as a kid. We were only ever allowed to kill hogs and on rare occasions, does, but never a buck; that was special. The first morning, Clair takes me to a stand on a corner where two fence lines meet, bordering a thick swamp that was closed to hunting. Not even ten minutes after he drops me off, a deer begins to feed on some acorns beneath my stand. I can tell its a deer, but it's too dark to tell if its a buck or not. As daylight comes in, it's revealed that the deer under my stand is a nice basket rack seven point, not what I'm looking for. I had seen the caliber of bucks on this property and this buck had a ton of potential, but he wasn't a 'shooter'. As the morning went on, I saw a bunch of little bucks run does all around out in the pasture, and even had a few small bucks come directly under my stand, but none of them were what I was looking for. The day went on, activity had slowed down, I had thought my morning sit was coming to an end, but then, an absolute giant buck steps out and begins to work his way towards me. I had seen my dad's buck from this ranch and this buck dwarfed his! I looked at him and thought "he's at least 50 yds out, I can't take that shot." I grunted at him, he lifted his head, looked my way, then continued on his way. I bleated at him, he looked my way, then continued on his way. He stopped in front of me broadside, but in my mind, he was too far out, so I passed on the shot. As I was sick to my stomach, trying to figure out if it was worth trying to put a stalk on this buck of a lifetime, I remembered,
I HAVE A RANGEFINDER IN MY BAG!!! I had forgotten all about it, I pulled it out and ranged the little scrub bush this buck had stood in front of when he was broadside to me... 38 yards. Sick, is an understatement here I had this buck of a lifetime in my effective range and because I didn't utilize my gear, I let him walk. When Clair and my dad rolled up in the Jeep to get me, they said I cleared the stand in two steps and they knew I had seen a good one. I told them all about what happened. Dad had assured me that I had done the correct thing. I didn't take a shot that I was unsure of, but for giggles, we set up the Block target at 38 yards back at camp, I hit dead center of dead center.
Every trip to the woods is a learning experience. Whether you're scouting, hunting, or even just following a random trail; you can always learn something from the woods. Maybe that's one of the things that brings us back, the thrill of gaining constant knowledge that will hopefully, one day, get us closer to that buck of a lifetime.
-Chris Johnson
