I awoke and jumped in the shower long before my alarm clock
sounded.It was 4:10 a.m.I was anxious to get to my new stand.Once again, my plan was to sit all day.By having seen the big buck at both ends of
the time spectrum, I knew that pulling a dawn-to-dusk sit would dramatically
increase my odds of catching him moving during daylight hours.Hopefully my patience threshold and tolerance
to sitting still for extended periods of time would continue to endure yet
another one of my self-inflicted torture tests.
Following the 15-mile drive from town, I parked my truck
alongside a row of trees on the far northwestern edge of the hayfield and got
dressed in the dark.It was pleasing to
know that I would only have a short stroll in the dim light of early morning to
reach my destination.With the new stand
hanging 400 yards closer than the stand to the south, it would only take a few
minutes to cover the distance.It was
6:00 a.m.
The stand was set in the perfect location.It overlooked the convergence of three finger
ridges that all lead up a slight hill and passed through a narrow draw.The draw contained a network of trails that
crisscrossed its confines in nearly every direction.In addition, a sizeable cluster of
fruit-bearing oak trees was attracting large numbers of deer to the area.I had noticed these unique terrain features
the day before when choosing the tree that would anchor my stand.The stand also offered the means to take
advantage of a natural travel corridor that the deer were using to visit
several primary scrapes.The scrapes
were scattered along the edges of the hayfield for nearly its entire length,
but the big buck favored the ones on the north end.As a result, I had to make a decision: Remain
a spectator or change stand locations.You already know the answer to that question.
As I waited for the sun to rise, I prayed that the
disturbance I caused while setting the stand and trimming a few shooting lanes
hadn’t alerted the deer.I also implored
the Heavens that the measures I took to conceal my human odor had been
sufficient.I would soon find out.
The day was bright and sunny with temperatures predicted to
reach the high 50s.The sky was fiery
blue with a cloudless horizon for as far as the eye could see.A slight breeze blew an occasional burst from
the north but was otherwise calm.It was
the type of day that every bowhunter wishes to experience.Shortly after daybreak, three deer suddenly
emerged from the shadows and stood in the middle of the hayfield to the
south.The early-rising trio consisted
of two medium-sized does and a basket-racked 8-pointer.The two does cut into the woods and headed
east across the railroad tracks toward the big soybean field, leaving the small
buck to choose his own course.
As if by design, the small buck headed straight for my stand
and casually strolled by at a mere 4 yards, calming my concerns for the time
being.He had no idea that anything was
amiss and even paused for a few seconds in one of my shooting lanes so that I
could practice drawing my bow on him.With a renewed sense of confidence in my stand’s location, I sat back
and waited for the chance to get a closer look at the big 10.It was 7:15 a.m.Eight hours would pass before another deer
would make an appearance.
As the hours slowly ticked away, I kept myself occupied by
watching a host of birds and squirrels match wits in a seemingly endless
barrage of woodland sporting competitions.In the meantime, a flock of mischievous turkeys gathered in the hayfield
and frolicked the day away in similar fashion.At 3:15 p.m. a small buck chased two does across the draw from the west
to the east and disappeared into the thick brush, ending the deer-less run.In spite of this madcap activity, two and a
half more hours would pass by without me seeing another deer.
At 5:45 p.m., with darkness closing in, my thoughts turned
against me.“Maybe the big buck
hooked up with a doe and wouldn’t show up this evening, or maybe he heard me,
or worse yet, saw me hang my stand,” I seriously pondered.
Once again my confidence began to wane.With my mind working against me and racing in
a million different directions, the unthinkable was about to happen.Just as I was trying to convince myself that
the big buck would show himself again if given enough time, I heard the
unmistakable sound of a deer approaching.With no time to assess the situation, I soon went into predator-mode as
a flash of antler caught my eye.As the
lone deer crossed in front of my stand I could tell that he was a good-sized
buck.I instinctively moved into
position for the shot, not fully realizing what I was about to do.
Moving from my right to my left, the buck quickly closed the
distance.Without any concern on his
part or mine, he would soon offer me a pointblank, broadside shot at 5
yards.And, in my confused, dreamlike
state of mind with no thoughts of the big buck to stop me, I would take
it!As he moved into position, my
78-pound Hoyt Stratus Plus was already at full draw.
I never felt the weight of its pull.Lining up on his mid-section, I sent a
Thunderhead-tipped shaft on its way before I knew what I was doing.The arrow struck him perfectly, passing
completely through both lungs and rocketing into the ground on the far
side.I watched the mortally wounded
deer run a 40-yard, half circle death sprint into the hayfield and expire.My hunt was over…Or was it?
Just as my mind began to finally shake off the ill effects
of a temporary cobweb affliction and grasp what actually happened, I heard the
sounds of a running animal approaching my stand.Within seconds, the largest whitetail buck I
have ever seen while hunting from a tree stand was now standing directly under
me!It was the big 10!
He stood beneath my stand watching the smaller buck lying
dead in the field for what seemed like hours, but it was more than likely only
a minute or so.And there I stood with
my mouth agape, watching the big buck watching the smaller buck, not fully
believing what I was seeing.
But it was
real, and the reality of it all was almost more than I could take at that
moment.It was a scene that I will never
forget as long as I live.And I’m quite
certain that I will continue to replay it over and over in my mind until my
days on this Earth no longer exist.Time
on stand:12 hours, 45 minutes.
It was official.My
hunt with Kevin Harris of Honey Creek Outfitters was over, and it was time to
pack my things and go home.As I headed
my truck south down Highway 65 and began my journey back to my home in Springfield, I was
already musing over the late bow season.You see, I had one tag left that I could use after the rifle season, so
I made plans with Kevin to return for another chance at a big buck during Missouri’s second bow
season.I was already counting down the
days.
Conclusion
Folks, what can I say?I simply lost my focus, and that brief moment
of impatience cost me the biggest whitetail buck I would have taken to
date.All I can figure is that the big
10 must have been traveling closely behind the smaller 8-point and ran in to
see what all the commotion was about after I shot.It just proves that anything can happen at
any time when pursuing trophy whitetails with archery equipment.
Nevertheless, I must admit
that my hunt with Honey Creek was an awesome experience from beginning to end
even though I didn’t harvest the big 10.I saw deer every day, took a very respectable buck and had the
opportunity to match wits with wild, free-ranging trophy whitetails.So, if you’re like me and you live to bowhunt
big whitetails, then this is definitely the place for you.As they say, “The proof is in the ‘honey’”--
Honey Creek Outfitters, that is!
To book a hunt with Kevin
Harris of Honey Creek Outfitters call him at: 1-660-359-5607, or visit his web
site at: www.honeycreekoutfitters.com
