Deal Sealed Unexpectedly

I have spent the majority of October traveling two and from western Pennsylvania to seal the deal on some antlers. With early success under my belt from Maryland with a Sika deer, I was riding on a high. The grueling month of little bucks and 2400 miles was wearing on the mind though. Its a feeling like during a marathon, the hitting of the wall. Trying to tuck that low point deep down, you have to forge on, as you never know when the 180 degree will come.

With each trip to the farm, information is gathered, passed on and documented. With a hunting journal in my possession now, I find my self taking more detailed notes on weather conditions and summaries of what was seen during the sits. The first two weeks of October was turning into a sweatathon. The summer was very slowly releasing its grips but continues to keep the big deer on lock down. When the temperatures start under 50 degrees then get ready. Deer don't have the ability to sweat just like a dog. This period of time is good to sit near a water source if you find yourself battling an early season heat. The majority of sightings were little bucks, spikes, and crab claws. Kind of like watching high school kids mingling around the woods.

Our makeshift property manager spoke a few words to live by though, on my second trip out. "Don't worry about where you saw the bucks, but were you saw the does". With the rut quickly approaching, he makes a fine point. Taking those notes in early season, of the same two doe passing by the stand will mean something later. Most of the younger cousins at the table thought nothing of his statement, but it was like a slice of friend gold to me. The stand location I sit on the field have 6-8 doe come in the woods every morning like clock work. One of these days in late October into November will have a buck following their trail. Although, I wouldn't have to wait for that.

On the 4th trip to Western, PA, the deal was sealed. With only minutes to exit the truck, change into hunting because I was racing against the sunset. This would be a start to a week long excursion set to hunt until antlers fell to the ground. This was a personal challenge to complete. Weeks of information gathering and honing in on bucks stomping grounds would have to pay off. So let's do a quick review of the most recent information and notes I had:

• The portion of the farm across the street had a concise area of scrapes, a rub line, and multiple sightings of a decent 7 point buck.
• The eastern side of the main farm has multiple sightings of two eight point bucks and approximate travel corridors.
• My historical stand location on the western end of the farm above the coal mine ponds had some minor rubs but has always stirred up some large bucks following does from the field.

Well the 7 point buck across the street fell to Uncle Tom prior to me arriving at the farm. We even had an opportunity to tag him while we were watching divorce court at the cabin. The one short tined 8 point got shot through the heart as well from my Cousin Lisa. So with the most recent information, I had nothing to go on, as most of the bucks that were on the hit list had already fallen.

The trash can buck, a huge non-typical still roamed the area, and another 8 pointer. Without seeing or having their home areas pinned down, the work was going to be tough. So while rushing to a stand to oversee the food plot, a familiar face was seen. The huge bodied buck with just main beams was standing a top the hill. My plan was to see as much of the farm as possible from one vantage point. Uncle Tom's stand does just that. Parking the truck at the end of the road, I quickly walked back toward the stand. The main beam buck was standing just inside the woods.

The last time seeing this deer was from afar, and before that was only feet away in near pitch dark conditions. His body size though is easily recognizable though. It's as if a horse is walking through the woods when you see it. The buck is old and battered, with one eye gorged out, a massive neck, and all his points broke off. He was making his mark on the farm and is probably warding off shooter bucks.

The stand oversees a huge field sprinkled with medium sized Christmas trees. A small food plot to the east and up the middle of the field has produced more activity for deer than usual. My grunt tube came in handy as sounds behind the stand relating to those of deer. Intermittently hitting the grunt call may get something to step out. A little doe finally did appear and walked right down the road between me and the field. Not what you wanted to appear when you have antlers dancing in your head.

A few deer were working the far edge of the field but nothing committing to the food plot. Glassing the field was going to be my tactic to identify a travel corridor of a buck coming out of the wood work. With one more platform stand in my truck, it was ready to be hung if needed. The sun finally set below the tree line, so the god awful glare disappeared in the binocs. Bingo, a buck working up the middle of the field toward the stand. Was it possible the intermittent grunts got him curious. As the buck got closer, a low grunt noise could be heard from the far end of the field.

Now, I had competition. Would a fake grunt versus a real deer grunt win? When the buck was directly in front of me, probably 70 yards away, I hit the grunt call like a champ. The buck was frozen in time, not knowing which direction to go, he just stood there. You could picture grass growing in time lapse photos, because it felt like it took that long for him to move. I gave one more set of my best shot at being a deer on the grunt tube. Still minutes past by, the sun soon to be below the horizon, and all I can do is wait.

The buck turned north, and these words uttered out of my mouth, "this is really going to happen". I had never experienced anything like this in my hunting career. As my Uncle Mike says, "you never know when it's going to happen". The buck took a fast walk in my direction and with that I stood up for the shot. Then a short game of peek-a-boo started with him behind the Christmas trees at the edge of the field. My best guess on distance was 40 yards and set the dial on my bow sight.

The buck was thrashing at the brush and showing pure anger as he couldn't see his challenger. All that needed to happen was 'one more step' from behind the tree. My heart was pounding through my chest, lucky for me though, I took my blood pressure medicine. I re-adjusted my feet to improve my form, and pulled my bow back as I saw him move his shoulders forward with a step. Focusing on the shot, and forgetting about the antlers the shot process settled in. The last bit of trembling stopped long enough to release my arrow. The all to familiar sound of drum pounding beat rang out. The arrow hit the chest cavity for sure.

The buck sprang away from me to the middle of the field, and then a little bit right as if he was drunk. The excitement hit me again, the shot had to be better than good. The first tumble was imprinted on my mind. This would also be a first for me to watch the deer fall after the shot. A short hop up into the snow plow position between two pines trees would be his final resting place. Success in 20 minutes in the stand, and 2400 miles under my belt already this season. My plan to pull out every trick this week to make it happen was not necessary anymore. Some night time work to retrieve my buck was in my future.