After spending the previous day at the Potluck squirrel camp, I had some honey-dos to attend to around the house and church on Sunday morning. Sunday afternoon, I was finally able to break free and head for Glendora.
My plan was to scout a productive deer funnel that carries deer traffic from a nice grove of oak trees to a cut corn field. Last year a giant buck was shot by a lady at our camp in the same area (see "Praying for Gorbachev", April BBM), and the deer won the Simmons big buck contest for the Women's division.
I set out on foot with my Lone Wolf lockon strapped to my back. I must have covered a mile or more, but I wasn't finding the feeding sign that I hoped I'd find. Eventually, I set up on the edge of a bedding thicket where several different edges all intersected at one location. I could see some feeding activity, and figured it'd be as good as anywhere.
After hanging my stand, I looked at my phone and couldn't believe it was already after 5:15pm. I hauled tail back to the camp, threw on my camo pants, grabbed my bow and my pack and headed back out.
I didn't want to hunt the stand I'd just hung because I felt I may have made too much noise in the process of hanging it, so I went to a lockon stand that we have positioned at the edge of a small food plot.
Looking at my phone's clock after getting settled in, it was just after 6 p.m. "Better late than never," I thought.
Fifteen minutes after getting settled in, I had 2 does and 2 fawns come out of some CRP en route to the feeder. I drew my bow and waited for one of the does to make a wrong move, but she never presented the shot I wanted. The deer were acting nervous as the wind was unsettled, and they eventually moved away from me.
After watching them leave, I heard what I thought was a buck rubbing his antlers on a sapling. I was almost 100% positive that my ears were not playing tricks on me, and I resolved to pass on a doe if another one came in.
Sure enough, a few minutes later the same doe group returned..only this time they had a small 3 point in tow. They fed for a few more minutes before turning to leave for good.
With darkness fast approaching, I figured my hunt was pretty much over. However, I heard a couple of twigs snap in the direction of the CRP, and I just knew that a buck was on his way. Looking through my binoculars, I saw a flash of white as the buck passed through a small opening while veering in my direction.
After a couple of anxious minutes, he popped onto the scene, appearing in the food plot at 20 yards. I grabbed my bow and readied myself. His horns were wide, and his main beams were long. With 8 points and a small kicker trying to be his 9th point, he had impressive headgear to say the least. But as I studied his body, it was clear that the deer had not yet reached full maturity. He was 3 1/2; he needed another year.
Right behind the larger buck was a 2.5 year old 7 point that hung up at the edge of the food plot sniffing the air cautiously. The 3.5 year old didn't have a care in the world, and I watched him make a scrape only 12 yards from my tree. Cool!
I reached for my camera while watching the show with hopes of documenting the display of dominance, but the younger buck managed to pick me off when I made the movement. Snorting loudly, the buck vacated the area and took the bigger buck with him.
I have to say that passing that deer was not easy. Especially considering that I went buckless last year. But I'd rather a kid or someone else that would get more satisfaction out of killing the deer to kill him than me. I know there are some sure enough studs walking my hunting property; I just have to put myself within bow range and make it happen.
See you next year Mr. 3.5 year old!
That makes me want to break out my bow again, maybe next year.