The 2014 hunting season was a challenging season. I had not seen many deer while sitting. The deers were there, just not when I was there. My game cameras were full of pictures since August and had been out since June. That year I sat in four different locations with my crossbow but never once had a shot at a buck. Frustration was setting in.
I was lucky enough to draw a rifle tag that year in my home unit. It had been three years since I had drawn one. The first week of rifle season I sat with my crossbow because I like getting up close and personal with them. But I had no luck and I was sick of sitting in the cold. The temperatures were in the 20s and there always seemed to be a stiff wind full of suck. So I decided to bring out the rifle. I like to call it cheating.
I also decided to call up my friend Tito a.k.a. Lawrence. He doesn't have all of his fingers but he is pretty neat. We did some scouting during his four days off from work and we found a honey hole of antlers. We were driving by some CRP when we saw some pheasants fly into a slough. As soon as the pheasants landed, the slough exploded with deer. Six bucks and a handful of does were in the bunch. The bucks started sizing each other up. It was crazy. Second time I have seen anything like it. The bucks were fighting each other, hard-core. The rut was on. The other bucks were watching and taking their turns when the loser would quit. We watched them for about fifteen minutes, just to watch them in their glory. They didn't care that we were only about 40 yards away in the shaggin wagon. There was one Hartford buck that was the king of the CRP. Later that afternoon we watched him chase a doe over a mile. Most hunters would be proud to have him on their wall. But we only saw him one more time in the next two days and he never gave me a shot. I told Tito I was going to shoot anything with antlers and he said, "Bull, we are going for a big buck, not a sausage stuffer."
Where all of these deer were was right on the edge of the farmstead. So we went into the yard to ask the landowner if I could hunt. As we were pulling into the driveway Tito said, "You could get set up right in their yard and shoot any of those bucks right now!" I knew exactly what he meant and I was getting excited. We pulled up to the house, Tito and I got out, went up to the door and knocked. The landowner came out and he knew what we were going to ask. I imagine he saw our hunter orange and knew what was up. We told him the scenario and asked for permission. He declined us though because the deer were too close to his house. We explained that we would shoot away from the buildings but he still denied us, which is his right and we were fine with it. There is more than one way to skin a cat.
We decided we would head over east back towards my place and sit a couple hundred yards away from a shelter belt that I have been seeing a lot of bucks on one of my trail cams. We opened up the back driver’s side door of the shaggin wagon and we got the rifle mount on my chair. It was a cool brisk day that afternoon so I decided to sit in the vehicle with the heater blowing with the door wide open. It worked pretty slick. (At that time I had a permit to shoot out of vehicle.) We didn't see anything while sitting but we made a plan for the next day. The shaggin wagon was full of cigert smoke and disappointment.
The next afternoon Tito and I picked up his dad Lowell. He was going to be our pusher, little did he know. On our way to the honey hole where we saw all of the deer the day before we saw a lone deer. It was a buck and we were only 2 miles from the house when we found him around 3 PM. He was all by himself, in the middle of nowhere. Tito quickly hopped out of his seat, put the rifle on my chair mount and I was within 10 seconds of taking the shot. Just when I was getting him in the scope he took off. Right at that time a vehicle passed us and we realized why that buck took off in such a hurry. We were parked in the middle of the gravel road. Geesh. Always check your mirrors kids.
Little did we know about two hours later we would see that buck again. But in between the encounters with him we found at least 15 more deer including five bucks, a couple shooters. We did a lot of glassing. But nothing would align correctly for me to get a shot. We even had Lowell push a little bit of CRP towards us but to no avail.
With about a half-hour left of shooting time we were making our way home. Tito was looking out one window while driving and Lowell was in the passenger seat looking out the other window. I was of course in the back scanning every direction for movement. We were just a mile east of where we saw all of the bucks the day earlier. It was getting pretty dark and Tito said, "Do you guys see anything? Because I haven't seen squat." Lowell said he wasn't seen anything. That's when I said, "Why don't I shoot that buck standing in front of us in the middle of the road?" They were both shocked. It was funnier than heck because they didn't notice him. They were too busy looking out their windows. This buck had no care in the world. He was twitterpated. His nose was to the gravel and he didn't even notice us. I bet we were not 30 yards away from him.
It was the first buck we saw earlier in the afternoon. On the left side of us was a CRP field that was also PLOTS land (Public Land Open to Sportsmen). He walked into the CRP with his nose on the ground. Tito stopped the vehicle and opened the back driver's-side door. We got my rifle mount on as quickly as we could and Tito jacked a bullet into the chamber. The buck was a little over 250 yards away when I tried to find him in my scope. I tried getting my chair lined up so that my rifle was aiming in the right direction. When that is done then I need to move my shoulder around to find them in my scope. For some reason something wasn't set up right with the mount. I was struggling and I didn't know why. Tito asked me what he should do and I didn't have a clue. All of a sudden Lowell pushed the butt of the rifle towards the middle of my shoulder. As soon as he did that it felt comfortable and I found Mr. Buckaroo standing there broadside.
I got on the buck through the scope as quick as I could, I took the shot and missed. He didn't even move. I didn't know where the shot went. Tito and Lowell didn't know where I shot either. I took another shot and down he went like a pile of bricks. I was excited. But I think Tito and Lowell were more excited than I. It was good times. We quickly talked about what just happened. We decided that I would call home and have mom bring Tito's pickup over.
We were only 2 1/2 miles from our farmstead, so it did not take her long to get there. But by the time she did get there it was dark. Tito said he would walk out there, tag the buck and then Lowell would go help him gut it and drag back to the road. But first Tito would have to find it in the dark. Lowell and I stayed by the shaggin wagon to direct Tito to where the deer was laying. It took a little bit of yelling and using the flashlight to steer him in the right direction but it didn't take long for him to find it. I decided I was going to get back in the shaggin wagon to warm up and I figured I would see Lowell making his way out to Tito by foot. But nope, he decided to drive Tito's vehicle out into the PLOTS, which is not so good unless you have permission from the landowner. I just laughed to myself. I know what Lowell was thinking, "Why in the hell would I walk when I could drive?"
As soon as Lowell got out there in Tito's pickup, Tito said, "You know you can't drive out here?" Lowell replied back, "Well, I just did!" Tito just shook his head and started gutting my buck. I still laugh at that scenario. That is good stuff. It didn't take him long to get him gutted, then we brought him to the locker and the celebration began with a few libations.
This hunt ranks up there with one of my most memorable. There are some more stories to the story but I don't think I should tell them on this platform. Ask me about them over a cocktail. I am pretty sure the statute of limitations has run out on most of the stuff and things. Good grief.
November 20, 2014 was the 18th day I was in the field that year with either my crossbow or rifle. That day I shot him with my Remington .243 model 7400 around 270 yards. Give or take. He ended up not being the biggest or oldest buck we were chasing, but that never really seems to matter. It's about the stories and the memories made that make for a great hunt. Tito and I still giggle about this hunt.
Thanks for reading, Clint.
