Bucks that forever haunt you

[bigmacc]

I,m sure we all have that one hunt, or that one buck or bull that you seen and never got a shot at or just couldn't close the deal, or maybe you did get a shot at and missed.What ever the issue, its an animal that haunts you and always will, for whatever reason, or it may not haunt you but its one you will never forget and you just had to tip your hat to it and move on.

It was the mid 1980,s for me in the Methow. I was out with a buddy and we were taking it easy one day, it was warm and sunny. We had been hiking into several areas every day for 5 days prior(6-8 mile round trips) and decided to kick back a little. The areas we had been going into were excellent areas but the weather and moon were not cooperating and we were seeing mostly does and tiny bucks. The kick back day was about a 2 mile hike in that was nice and easy and any deer killed would be all downhill to a main road, easy peasy although our plans were mostly to just spread out and nap in the sun . It was about 2 in the afternoon when we headed out and it was about 60 degrees with beautiful blue skies. We crested a small ridge about halfway there when across a huge draw out in the wide open something caught my eye, I knew it was a buck without even putting my binos on it, the buck was 480 yards away(my son and I rangefinded the spot about 8 years ago)and its antlers stuck out like a sore thumb. I remember telling my buddy "HOLY SMOKES, look at the size of that guy!" I put my binos on it and everything was confirmed, it was a MONSTER, he was by himself and kind of quartered from me, leisurely walking towards a saddle about 50 yards above him and to the right. I didn't have my pack that day, heck all I was wearing was a t-shirt, a pair of Wranglers and some Pony tennis shoes, we were on a bald ass hill that didn't have anything on it to use as a rest. Well, I didn't have a lot of time before he went into and through the saddle and disappeared when my buddy said "use my back" and he got down on all 4,s and while on his elbows crammed his fingers in both ears. The buck was almost to the saddle and I had him figured at about 500-550 yards away, I had shot on the range at that distance but had never shot at a buck at that distance and have not again til this day. There was just no way to get closer, no time and I was young and confident. I held the 270 at about 3 1/2 ft above his back, let a breath out and gently squeezed the trigger. The buck dropped in its tracks, never took another step, never flinched, just dropped! I watched him through the scope for a few seconds, my buddy stood up and asked"is he down", I said yep and we high fives each other, about 20-30 seconds of celebratory hugs and conversation later I put my binos on him to get a feel of where he was and to plan a route to get to him when through my glasses I seen him standing on all 4,s shaking his body and head like a dog that just got out of the tub, he took about 5 steps and disappeared through the saddle, we were both stunned. We went to the area and searched tin dark, no blood, not a drop. While looking we heard a shot down low by the road but sounded aways off and muffled, we didn't think anything of it. We went back to camp and came up with a plan to go into the north side of the ridge 1st thing in the A.M with 4 other guys and hopefully find him wounded or bedded in the heavy jungle on the other side. We went in the next day and spread out searching the heavy jack pines, 6 of us total, 10 hours not a trace, I was sick, I had never lost a buck before and it was a horrible feeling and as big as he was didn't help, I guessed him at 30'' give or take with the look I had of him with a kicker on his right side. Well, the season ended we all went home to our lives and the grind. About 2 weeks later while out on my route one of my customers asked how the season went, we talked for awhile but I did not mention "the buck", he knew the area where we hunted but not specifics. He said he had a friend that killed a huge buck over by the area we hunt, he said he was hunting way north or our area but was on his way to town to get gas when this buck crossed the road in front of him. He chased it into a field and killed it at about 75 yards with one shot, he told me it was a dandy, 36 1/4 inches wide outside spread, he told me he would get a picture of it from his friend and bring it in and show me the next time I was in. Two weeks later I was there again, he had the picture, 7 on one side 6 on the other, 36 1/4 inches wide outside spread, 32 inches wide not using the 4 1/4 inch kicker, a beautiful buck. I looked at the 4 pictures of the deer when on one of the pictures I noticed a notch gouged out of the base of its left antler, about an inch or so above his skull. It caught my attention, a lot about the buck had already reminded me of the buck I seen and shot at that day and now my mind was working, I asked him if I could have his friends phone number, he said sure and I called him that evening. He said it was a bullet gouge in the horn(a game guy told him that) and it was moving pretty fast when it came down the hill and crossed the road. I asked him where he was on the road when it crossed and about what time he got it, he told me where it was and he killed it at about 3.30 in the afternoon. All the stars lined up and the t,s were crossed and the I,s dotted, I told him my story and told him that gouge was from a shot I had taken about 30 minutes prior, I had rung his bell and knocked him out, he shook it off like a prize fighter and went on to the next round. I still see that buck standing there "shaking it off" til this day.

[2MANY]

As I read down your story it was the one thing I was gonna suggest.
I had it happen with a bull in the Selway.
Base of the horn.
Except it was a timber shot under 100 yards, came to life just as I approached it and before it could stand.
It pushed with it's rear legs, plowed on its chest straight down hill at me, and tried to horn me.
I jumped to the side and shot it again.

Sorry you lost it.

[Bango skank]

The one that got away....  i hunted him all season, pursuit of my dream buck....  although unable to outwit the great beast i did find his sheds, then never saw him again.  Some say hes still out there kickin buck ass and breeding all the does, some say he fell to a pack of 30 wolves, and theres some that say he never really existed at all, but this giant was real and will haunt my dreams til i die.

[2MANY]

Looks like teeth.

[KP-Skagit]

I got one, about 5 years ago out of Mazama. Was hunting with two buddies running the two rig trick through some horridly cliffy stuff. I am a SLOW hunter and knew there was no way I would be able to properly hunt the ground I had to cover by dark. To top it off it was an overcast evening and the last couple miles were in the timber. With 15 minutes of shooting light I was having a hard time seeing anything. Suddenly, my radio came alive. My buddies were at my truck wondering where in the world I was, we had several miles to drive back to the other truck. I had hit a flat but had about a mile or so to go. I told them I was going to hunt till shooting time and then hoof it out.

However, I felt bad leaving them hanging and so decided to be a good buddy and just beat brush out of there. There was a big meadow below me I had glassed pretty well that I had to cross. Coming into the fringe of the meadow I snapped a branch and a huge bodied deer jumped out a patch of brush in the middle of the meadow I couldn't see before. He was not 50 yards in front of me bounding off broadside to me, some may cringe but a shot I have made many times before (hey I am a duck hunter). At the bottom of every bound I could see the bases of his antlers but in the brush and the backdrop of timber I could not make out what was on top. Given the size of the animal I seriously considered just dropping him. However, sanity kicked in and the memory of a super two the year before that almost fooled me. The buck continued out the meadow passing behind an island of timber in the middle. I sprinted to where I could get a vantage point hoping to get a look at him and an opportunity. Sure enough he came out of the timber running straight away from me at the end of the meadow. That's when I could see his antlers beyond not just his ears but his haunches as he ran straight away at about 250 yards. No chance at getting a reasonable shot I watched him run into the timber out of my sight and into my memories.

I hunt that meadow every year now at least once. I have yet to see another animal in there.

[pianoman9701]

I was out for dinner one winter many years ago, in Bellows Falls, VT, right over the border from Walpole, NH. On our way home on Rt. 12 in Walpole, a huge whitey crossed the road. I marked the spot for the next archery season. Next summer, I went to the spot to do some scouting. It was a very small strip of public land between the highway and a farmer's field. It opened up to dense hardwood forest and some swampland. Immediately upon getting out of my vehicle, I found well-worn trails with huge tracks. I was convinced this was the same animal. I went up there a few more times before the season and each time found fresh tracks from this big guy. Opening day of bow season, I drove up went into the woods on this little strip. about 300 yards down, there's a fairly steep dirt bank. On the other side of that bank is a nice bowl, about 100 yards across that had been tracked up every time I'd gone up there scouting. I crawled up the bank and peered over the edge, carefully looking at every square inch of the bowl before standing on the top and entering it. When I did stand, the buck had been bedded right below me and took off like a bullet. He was maybe 3 yards away when I spooked him and I could've soiled myself. I tracked him for maybe a half mile before losing him. I went back several times to the same place and never saw fresh tracks again. He was absolutely the biggest whitetail I'd ever seen or been close to.

[7mmfan]

Man, that's a great story Bigmacc! The silver lining to it is that you know for a fact you didn't mortally wound an animal and lose him.

I've had my share of run ins with big bucks after my tag was notched that I think about often. There is only one that really haunts me.

It was 6 or 7 years ago, Halloween day. I was hunting Blacktail near home. The weather was PERFECT. By perfect I mean it was pouring rain, usually sideways and up. Trees were crashing down in the woods, and I was soaked to the bone. Perfect Blacktail weather. From first light, the deer were out. I had several encounters with does, and 2 spikes that I passed. I finally got to the clear cut I really wanted to be in and began still hunting down through it, checking all the little benches and hidey holes within it. I was nearing the bottom, where the cut comes up against a big creek. The creek was nearing flood stage and I could hear boulders tumbling and grinding along downstream. I eased out on a landing and across the draw from me was a big 2x3 and 2 does. He looked real good to me so I got my rifle out on the stump in front of me and flipped the scope covers up. In an instant, everything was fogged and covered in water. I tried to wipe it down but I didn't have a dry inch of anything on me. I decided I could focus and make the shot. I got settled and squeeeeeezed the trigger, BOOM! As the smoke cleared, all the deer were still standing there looking around. Clean miss. I wasn't going to attempt that again so I sat down out of sight and quickly started tearing open zippers and buttons getting down to my wool base layer. It was not dry, but drier than anything else available. I did a quick wipe down, got the scope modestly clear and eased back up to my stump. The two does were back to feeding, and the buck was just standing there looking around. One more time, I squeeeeezed the trigger and BOOM WHOP! The buck was on his back, all 4 feet in the air. PHEW!

I gathered my belongings and began making the trek around the head of the draw towards him. As I'm navigating through the reprod, I came across three 5-6' fir saplings completely tore out of the ground, willows shredded, and scotch broom broke in half. I was thinking to myself it would surprise me that that 2x3 could have accomplished all that. I was 100' from my buck when I noticed one of the does still hanging out right there. As I stepped out in the open, the biggest, baddest blacktail buck I've ever seen stands up out of the brush, not 20' from where my buck lay. Everything about him was huge. His body, neck, head, ANTLERS. I was in complete shock and awe standing there looking at him. He had the dark brooding brow, and white/gray face of an old wise buck. His head was so large it made his ears look oddly tiny. The antlers came out well past his ears, and then turned at a 90 degree angle and went straight up, curving in the last couple inches. His brow tines were at least 3" long. He carried incredible mass all the way to the end of all 4 points on each side. Just an unreal example of a lowland Blacktail.

He looked at me for a good 15-20 seconds, and then dropped his head and got right on the does butt, hooking her and driving her off into the timber. I stood there shaking my head, unable to process what had just occurred. That buck laid in the cover, while I took not just one, but two shots at his competition. Then continued to lay there as I approached within a stones throw. All because of a hot doe. That buck taught me to be just a little more patient when I see deer in the woods and to take the time to glass extensively around them to see what else might be there lurking just screened from obvious sight.

[Sitka_Blacktail]

Years ago I was muzzleloader hunting blacktails in the late season up Lincoln Creek, home of the world record blacktail.  I made two mistakes.........

I made a big circle through and older clearcut that had a lot of sign. Started on the top end and hunted down and then started back across to the road. Even though it had grown up a bit, there were a lot of openings to look over and I took my time. As I got back to within 50 yards of the logging road, I heard something behind me and turned around to see the neck and head of a whopper 4x4 sticking out from behind a fir tree. right where I'd just walked through! He was past my comfortable range for a rest hand shot, probably 125 yards or so, and there was no way to get a rest where I was at. I was holding on him as best I could and hoping he'd step out from behind the tree so I'd have a bigger target. But he stayed put. I lost patience and made what I thought was my first mistake. I fired.

Then he stepped out from behind the tree and stood perfectly broadside to me as I hurriedly went to reload.  It was then I discovered that shooting was actually my second mistake. I had bullets, but had forgotten to grab my powder when I left the truck. So all I could do was stand there and look at that buck just standing there. I snuck out to the road and went back to my truck for powder, but of course when I got back he was gone.  I'm not saying he was a world record, but he was probably the second largest blacktail I've ever seen.

The largest was another story in itself.

Took a girlfriend out hunting with me and a buddy and his wife and son.  It was doe day, back when Washington had a doe day for blacktails, in the 70s.  We set my buddy's wife and son up on a spur road that ran parallel with a timber patch And my buddy and I and the girlfriend  (non hunting, just along for the experience) hunted down through the timber to another friend's pasture, hoping to push something out to the wife and son. The girlfriend and I had just got to the pasture when we heard a shot. I told the girlfriend to wait in the pasture and I ran back up the hill to see if they'd scored. It was the son who shot and there was no sign of a hit, but the buddy and I scoured the area good for sign. In the meantime, the girlfriend got bored of waiting and she decided she could find her way back up to the landing we'd parked on.

That didn't work out so well. She got twisted around and convinced herself she was lost in the woods.  So pretty soon we heard her calling my name.  We were still trying to be quiet because we didn't know yet whether or not the son had hit the deer he shot at.  And the longer we didn't answer, the louder the girlfriend got and she started to panic and scream.  So I took off to get her and get her back to the truck. I found her easily enough and we started for the truck. Next thing we knew, we were in the middle of a cloudburst and just getting soaked.  We got up to the landing and were walking over to the truck. As I was unlocking the door I looked back at the skid road we'd just walked up and there was the largest blacktail buck I'd ever seen, either before or since.  He'd come up out of a gully beside the truck. As he hit the skid road he turned, not 50 yards from me and trotted towards the timber, straight away from me. I pulled my gun off my shoulder and threw it up in hopes of an opportunity at a decent shot. But I quickly realized that between the rain hitting my glasses and the rain on the scope, I couldn't see a thing as I tried to get on the buck.  He disappeared into the timber and we never saw him again, although through the rest of the season and the next season, we did see his tracks.  I can only guess that my girlfriend's screaming scared him out of the timber, and not expecting to see anything at the truck, we probably never even glanced down into the gully he came out of.  Hopefully some of his descendants are still in the area.

[RockChuck]

The one that got away....  i hunted him all season, pursuit of my dream buck....  although unable to outwit the great beast i did find his sheds, then never saw him again.  Some say hes still out there kickin buck ass and breeding all the does, some say he fell to a pack of 30 wolves, and theres some that say he never really existed at all, but this giant was real and will haunt my dreams til i die.

My first buck was about that size!

[h20hunter]

@D-Rock425

I know you chased Droopy for how long??? 4 years?

[jjhunter]

Last year I drew a decent mule deer tag in Idaho.  I showed up 2 days early only finding a few small bucks on the first day.  On the second morning, I found  a solid 180” deer with a giant frame, but weak forks.   He was big enough for the easy to draw tag.  That afternoon, I headed to the opposite end of the unit to check an area where a 240” freak has been killed two years prior.   While heading up a nasty old mine road on my 4wheeler, I stopped to glass a likely spot way up the mountain in some rocky/mahogany country.  I about “sh*t” when I spotted a giant buck.  32+ on the frame, giant forks and a 10” inline.   I didn’t sleep a wink that night.  The next morning, I was up the canyon in the dark and glassing at first light.  I changed locations several times, but never spotted a deer.   I decided to hike up into the cliffs 1500 vertical feet above me and have a look around.  One up on top, I started working a series of small, finger draws on a near vertical face.  As I entered the second cut, I looked directly across the draw and spotted the giant laying under a tree at 204 yards.  I had made that shot several times with my muzzleloader, but really didn’t want to take it unless he stood up.   So, I sat across from a 205”-210” giant for several minutes in a stare off.  Eventually, he stood up and ran up the mountain into the safety of the deep timber.  I was crushed!!!!

The next day was a repeat of the first.  This time, I spot him bedded at 191 yards under a tree.  I set up my tripod, rest over the spotter, and hammer him with my muzzy.   He gets up, walks slowly in reverse and then heads down hill 20 yards and stands with head down.   Just as I reload and line  him up for the finishing shot, he beds in the deep sage only revealing the tips of his antlers.  I watch him for about 45 minutes, sending texts to my buddies “back to back 200”...etc.  Pure elation..

I finally get impatient as the sun dips and slowly make my way up to him to put the final shot into him.  At some point, the hill gets too steep and I lose sight of him.  When I make it to his bed, I am sick as he is nowhere to be seen.  About that time, the timber erupts with deer running everywhere.  I chase the main group for some time, but never lay eyes on the buck again.  I look for 3 days with no sign and go back in the spring for another two days.  As he was on the winter range and in country that would have been hard to get out of if seriously hurt, I am confident that he made it.

I’ve always dreamed of shooting a giant framed buck.  It’s haunted me daily for the last year.

[jjhunter]

My only memory...


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[woodswalker]

Willipa Hills hunt, mid 1990s, it POURED the entire time we were there.  After 3-4 days of this we were hunting the heavy timber on the theory that the deer were hunkered down in there staying out of the worst of the rain and wind.  Which they were.  Partner and I were working both sides of a small draw leading down to a now RAGING creek, talking whitewater and hearing stones grumbling down to the falls about a 1/4 mile downstream, which was ROARING.

About 2 PM I spotted movement about 75 yards away and slightly uphill, put long eyes on it and it was a heavy antlered 3 point blacktail with a grey muzzle and a roman nose.  l let the binocs slide back into my vest and slid my Old Faithful 1950 vintage Winchester Model 70 Featherweight up and centered the crosshairs of the Steel-tubed K4 right behind his shoulder and and touched off the round...saw water fly and the buck tumbled over...

AND GOT RIGHT BACK UP and headed off up out of the draw towards deeper woods and more creek.  I got to where he had been and there was blood, hair and bone/cartilage everywhere...but no deer.  I tracked him for the next 2 hours looking on the underside of ferns to find the blood to trail as any on TOP of the ferns was sluiced off by the RAIN.  Did I mention it was POURING?  Tracked him til nearly dark and to the edge of the creek about a half mile upstream from where we would have come out of the draw.  No buck...still good blood on the underside of the ferns right up to the creek. Which was out of its banks. I spent til dark looking for a way across. I got back into camp just before midnight.

Partner had gathered up the bloody bits in a handkerchief to take back to camp and see if we could figure out where i hit him. That night we concluded that I had hit nearly 8" to the left of where i was aiming and that i had hit his brisket...bit of breastbone and ribs were what he had picked up. 

At first light the next morning i stopped at the gravel pit on our way to where I had last seen the blood trail and took a shot at a white rock at the back of the pit...and hit 12" to the left of the rock!  Apparently the stock had finally soaked up enough water to warp and throw my shot off.  I spent the rest of the day on both sides of the creek, down below the falls and all the way down to the log jam about a mile downstream...never found a trace of the buck.  The rest of the week I kept an eye on the sky looking for birds that might show me where my buck lay.  Never found a thing.  I cashed my tag that trip and didn't hunt the rest of the season for deer.

That is the ONLY animal i have ever lost in over 40 years of hunting.  It also prompted the purchase of a new Winchester Model 70 Featherweight All-Terrain, the stainless steel and composite new version of my Old Faithful.  The guys who hunt with me know the rifle well and i get ribbed about it when i have plenty of others.  I still have Old Faithful, with the stock dried and clearanced so that it doesn't bear on the barrel anymore (it never went back completely straight) and it goes with me as a backup rifle.

[tgomez]

20I4 Lincoln County,  hunting with my cousin a few hours before dark we see a whitetail buck running over the hill. I take off on a dead sprint after the buck with my cousin not far behind. I come up over the hill and the buck is about 65 yards away broadside staring at us. At this exact time I see a mulie buck stand up out of his bed to the whitetails left about 40 yards. The HUGE framed and wide buck was facing dead away from us and walking uphil. I couldn't identify if it had 3 points on either side because it was so symmetrical. When he finally turned, which seemed like forever(probably 5 seconds) I saw he was a deep forked 4x4 . I raised my 30-06, took aim and squeezed one off. I never hit the buck, but shot over him. My cousin misses the whitetail clean now on the run. I tell my cousin, "Go uphill toward the open field, I'm going to go check for blood and head down hill. He says," What did you shoot at?" I told him, "The biggest f****** mule deer I've ever seen in my life!" We both then hustled to our designated assignments. I found no blood or fur, but did see where he kicked out and tracked him over the hill. IAbout 2 min later I hear two shots above me just to my left. My cousin caught up to that buck and was super excited when I saw him. He missed the buck twice at about 300 and 308 yards. He shoots a 30-30 Marlin 336. I laughed and said, "I told you he was HUGE." He replied, "That thing looked like a damn Elk!" We decided to watch the draw where the buck ran into until dark. About fifteen minutes to go with legal shooting light we decided to head back to the truck with a 2 mile hike ahead of us. We no more than get to the top of the draw where the field is and what do I see? The whitetail buck he missed facing us straight on at I20 yards. I centered my 30-06 on his chest and squeezed the trigger. I dropped the 4x4 whitetail in his tracks. We hustled over and took a few pictures and gutted the deer. With the tagged buck on his G3 antler(like a idiot), I threw him over my shoulders and carried him back to my truck. On the way back we see a spotlight shinning back and forth on the field. When we got back to my truck it was the game warden. He said, "Nice buck...where's the tag?" I said, "Right there on his..." My heart sank. He asked me where I shot the buck. I said on the very edge the big wheat field. He told me to jump in his truck and drove me over to where the gut pile was. Him and I jumped out with his flashlight. We went from the gut pile and started walking in the direction of my truck. We found the tag and cord I used to tie it on his antler. I said, "Oh thank God!" He said, "Young man everything you told me was the truth and if this were to ever happen again he would give me the benefit of the doubt. I told him it definitely wouldn't and that I know better than to tag my buck like that. I was just in a hurry and was still rattled from the HUGE buck I missed earlier. My cousin and I have never laid eyes on that buck again. I will tell you all I have seen a ton of big mule deer over the years, but this one was at least 200 inches. I probably will NEVER see a buck like that again, but I will always remember him and am thankful to the good Lord that I had a opportunity. Those kind of bucks are what we all dream of and keep us all waking up early and hitting it hard.

[blackveltbowhunter]

I never actually fired on my haunt story.....

    My dad has never been much of a hunter, but was very strict with gun handling and ingraining that I be sure of my target(s) especially in regards to not shooting a doe.  It was late October my first year deer hunting. I was doing lawn work after school and the one of the jobs was raking and bagging leaves for a homeowner with several large maples. It happened to be close to a good hunting spot. I had asked my dad if we could go for an evening hunt and he agreed to get off work early which was extremely rare for him to do.

    The area we were going had rumors of a giant buck roaming the area. My best friends dad who was an avid hunter and worked swing shift had seen a buck crossing the county road in the dark and said he initially thought a steer was loose until he saw the ghost white face and giant rack.

   I am sure I was visibly excited as we pulled up to the parking area. Not only was this an opportunity to hunt, but in the discussion on the way my dad had mentioned we should split up to cover more portions of the areas large cut. This would be my first time carrying a rifle solo. As I gathered my gear I realized I had overlooked one piece of equipment in my hurry loading the truck before dad left for work that morning, I had rifle, orange, ammo, and tags. But had forgot binoculars. 

  To this day I'm not sure why my dad didn't insist I hunt with him. Perhaps he figured there was no chance of me "scoping" anyone with an open sighted 30-30, maybe because the binos were only for antler confirmation and he trusted me to not shoot if not sure. Maybe he simply didn't want to dampen the evening by disappointing me. Regardless, after walking to the first split in the road he reiterated his usual wisdom of " as soon as you don't respect that gun it will kill you" followed by "and make sure it has horns." and we went separate directions.

   I moved down the road slowly for few hundred yards. There was a large flat bench below me about 40 yards across ( i figured this all out a few years later) that dropped into a small creek drainage. On the other side of the creek drainage was a fairly steep hill for 40 yards or so before going into the timber. The timber was 80ish yards away. The cut was about 3 years old. As I snuck to the stump I was going to sit next to, I noticed a deer bedded down on the bench near the creek. The deer had noticed me as well and stood up, along with 4 friends. One of those friends sure looked like a forked horn buck but without my confirmation binos I held off shooting. The deer all disappeared into the creek draw and one by one emerged on the other side. Doe, doe, doe, the "maybe a buck", another doe, nothing for minute then another deer appeared. This one seemed to soak up all the real estate on the opposite side of the creek draw, his rack was unmistakable with 4 heavy points per side set atop a ghost white face, shiny black nose and thick neck.  There was no doubt this was a buck, he walked in front of the doe and she disappeared behind his giant body as he stiff legged a couple more steps and as she reappeared he stopped. I raised my rifle and sighted on his massive chest looking back a mere 70 yards away. But I couldn't squeeze the trigger. I lowered the gun and stared at the giant rack again. Then raised the gun again as the buck turned and looked seemingly right thru me. Still I couldn't squeeze the trigger.  On top of my weak knees and rubber elbows were dads words ringing in my head "make sure it has horns". Somehow the loop between brain and finger wouldn't close and let me squeeze the trigger without raising a pair of binoculars to "make sure". The buck took several more slow steps along with the other deer and melted slowly into the timber, vine maple, and ferns. After the shaking stopped and I calmed down, I berated myself for why I hadn't shot. I KNEW that buck had antlers.

   Although a short distance, it was a long walk back to meet dad. After relaying the story he first questioned me why I didn't shoot, but after further discussion he assured me I had done the right thing in not shooting.


    I did manage to kill a buck that first year a fork horn and that first buck took the sting away. But the haunting remained strong as I wondered after that day if I had seen that buck or simply wished him into being. As I continued my hunters journey I also became very aware how rare sightings on truly big  bucks can be and the haunting became even worse. To this day I might be wondering if I truly saw a ghost buck, if not for an event a few years later.

   I was working for a homeowner that lived not far from this particular area. The old man had dozens of nice blacktail racks hanging from rafters and draped over wood piles, but while walking past a large living room window i noticed one shoulder mount on the wall above the recliner. He was everything I remembered. The four thick long points per side along with eyeguards dark and heavy   set atop the brilliant white face with 2 bright patches on the neck. The old man smiled when I blurted out " where did you kill that monster" and relayed my story along with exact location. He was as excited to tell the tale as I was to hear it. As near as we could figure he had harvested the buck the same year and within a couple days in the same timber I saw him disappear into. He had been watching the buck for a several years and had multiple sheds from him, at a time when that wasn't a "thing"  and before trailcams became the norm. He knew the bucks movements, haunts, trails, beds and had nearly given up ever connecting due to declining health and because in three years he had not seen the buck in daylight. He stated he didn't want the buck entered, but his son had insisted on scoring it and it was high 140s.

   My dad still chuckles at the story and chalks it up to buck fever. He gets a kick out of it every time he tells it, and I swear he adds flavor about me coming back pale white and being sick for several days after.  The old man was a wealth of stories and intel that he shared with me and have led to the taking of some nice blacktails of my own.  I would be lying if I said the thought of that buck doesn't haunt me on occasion, a missed opportunity at a monster buck is so rare and even more so on lowland BT bucks. But I like to think that the Almighty Maker of big bucks saw fit to give an old man a gift, by making a dream he had spent years chasing come true.  And giving a young man an even better one by letting that dream live on.