I had been wanting to get my first trophy buck for a long time.
The Story of My First Trophy Buck
The phone rang, it was my dad and you could tell he had a little excitement in his voice. “I just saw the big boy” he said. As soon as he said it I knew what he was talking about. We had been deer hunting hard all season long and now the rut was starting to kick in full gear. My dad owned fourteen acres of prime deer hunting land in north Georgia and what made it prime was that at the back of the property the hardwoods funneled to a major highway on one side and a pasture on the other. Then on each end was prime habitat for deer hunting.
So any bucks that were on the move had to funnel through this small strip of hardwoods or their other options were cross a major highway or cross an open pasture. My dad was sitting in a stand in this spot that morning when the big buck came off the hill behind him and was easing through the woods when my dad spotted him first. But as my dad turned to make a shot one of his gloves that he had taken off fell to the ground and the game was over. The white antlered brute had been playing this game far to long to stick around and get shot. After all he didn’t get that big by being stupid. My dad called me that afternoon and told me what had happened.So after my dad told me what had happened I thought I would give him a try. I asked my dad if he minded if I hunted their the next day or so seeing how he had to be at work. He said I could so that night I got all my gear organized and invited my best friend Stephen to go with me. I told him the big bucks were in full rut and I would be surprised if we didn’t see some action.
The next morning we got there well before daylight and it was a great November morning for the whitetails to be moving. It was a cold clear frosty morning. I took Stephen to a stand and then I headed to get in the stand where my dad had seen the trophy buck. When I got there I put doe in estrous urine and dominant buck urine out and I didn’t use it sparingly I put a lot out. As the sun came up I could see the fresh scrapes and huge rubs everywhere. I started grunting quite a bit and continued grunting about every thirty minutes or so. The whole time I was watching the hill cautiously where my dad had seen the trophy buck approach.
I was careful not to make any sudden movements so if the big boy came in he wouldn’t pick me off. It was approaching 10:30am and I hadn’t seen anything but I just had a feeling something good was going to happen. And then it did, I had turned and was looking down the hill when I heard a twig snap up the hill in the opposite direction and I slowly turned and saw the trophy buck at the same time he saw me. He had already been educated where the stand was when my dad dropped his glove. I didn’t waste a split second, I threw up my grandfathers Winchester model 100 308 and found his front shoulder in my scope and squeezed the trigger.
The buck bolted down the hill and out of sight in a flash and he was gone. When I got down and got to the spot where he was standing when I shot him I found bone and hair but very little blood. I immediately backed out and headed back to the truck. Stephen was sleeping like a log in the truck. We got my dads bird dog to do the tracking job but when the bird dog got to the last spot we found blood the bird dog was lost. So I went back to the house and got the German Shepard named Blackjack. As soon as we got to the last spot we found blood Blackjack jerked the leash out of my hand and took off and I wasn’t far behind I heard Blackjack barking like crazy just over the hill and when I came over the hill the big buck and Blackjack were in a standoff face to face. I quickly put another shot in the buck and he fell. He was the biggest buck I had ever taken the time and he was beautiful. My dad still gives me a hard time about shooting his buck. He would have loved to have taken him but I know he is glad that it was me that got him and not somebody else. I miss being able to hunt with my dad since I moved to Kansas two years ago and he is back in Georgia. Maybe this year I’ll plan a little trip back home to hunt with him. Or he could come give these Kansas brutes a try with me.