This story is about a buck of my lifetime. The late Archery Season was well underway in Washington on December 1, 1993. The weather this day, was as bad as it gets here. It was raining, snowing and blowing, and made it awfully hard to leave the warm trailer and get the 4x4 started and deiced. Pure dedication to hunting for the ghostly Blacktail got me moving though. I had already decided to make my rounds to several “honey holes” that I frequented, and I was to make sure that I arrived at a certain one by 0830. In many previous trips to this particular hole, I had always seen some type of game, Cow elk, doe deer, coyote, standing next to a huge cedar stump in the middle of a swamp at 0830.The stump seemed to have an affect on the animals, and they used it as some sort of haven or rest stop on the way across the swamp. The stump is 35 yards down a 20-30 foot drop off an old quarry that sits above it. I had measured the distance many times with my range finder, just in case I ever saw something I wanted to shoot. After driving about 5 miles in this blinding storm, I reached the road to the swamp. I slowly made my way up the nastiest road that you can imagine. My big old F250 4x4 was sideways most of the time, but I was determined to be there by the appointed time of 0830. I arrived at the Quarry, and as I turned the 250 around, I noticed something out of the ordinary at the stump. I thought to myself, “I have never noticed that big old rock laying by that stump.” The snow and rain had by now turned to mostly hard rain, and the wind was blowing up from the swamp. I got out my trusty bino’s and glassed the “rock” a little closer, and lo and behold the rock had “antlers” all over it. Lying beside the stump in a cedar bed, was this big old buck, sound asleep, or he appeared to be. With the wind and rain blowing up from him, he could not have smelled me, and I doubt that he even heard the 250 come up the road. If he did, he did not care. Now, what do I do? I am not the world’s greatest shot with a bow, but I can hit most anything I shoot at up to 40 yards. After my heart settled down a little, I decided it was a now or never opportunity to finally harvest the buck of a lifetime. I got out of the truck, and nearly drown from the rain. The buck was presenting a large target, about 3 feet across with his tail toward me and his head laid back over his left shoulder. I figured I could punch him in the spine and keep him in place at least. So, with all my effort, I drew back the bow, held my 50 yard pin just above him, and let it fly. Well, about that time the buck lifted his head, exposing his neck, the wind got my arrow, and I lost sight of it. The buck jumped up, stood there for a second and then stepped behind the stump, and all I could see was him shaking his head back and forth. Then he disappeared into the “dog hair” on the other side of the swamp. I thought how strange that was. Then, I thought “I have to see if I hit that deer”. I am so wet and shaking so bad by this time, that I must have lost a little of my senses. I completely forgot about an accessible road about 200 yards on the other side of the swamp. In my excitement, I bailed off that bank down into the swamp. Little did I know that the swamp was chest deep in water, and mud. Panic then gets me, but the thought of the buck getting away overcame the panic and I made it across the swamp to the stump. There was no sign of the deer or my arrow. The rain had wiped out most of the snow except for along and under the dog hair. I spotted a few drops of blood in the snow. Aha, a blood trail. I followed it, and lying about 15 yards in the dog hair was this big old beautiful buck, dead as a doornail. The arrow had sliced right through his jugular vein. At this time, I was really shaking and could not get any wetter. I reached for my fanny pack where I carry my knives and other things I need, and you guessed it, the fanny pack was still in the pickup. Oh woe is me. So, back up to the pickup I tried to go. I found a better path out of the swamp, but still had to get up that 20-30 foot sheer bank. After much struggling, slipping and sliding and cussin for leaving my equipment in the truck, I made it. Then, of course back down the bank I had to go again and across the swamp back to the buck. He was no easy thing to field dress. He weighed over 200 pounds and was very difficult to turn over. Finally, I had him prepared for movement. You guessed it, back up the bank I had to go again. I made it and got on my CB and called my hunting partner. He came over, and he remembered the road on the other side of the swamp. We went there, and after much searching through the dog hair, was able to locate the buck by the swamp. We moved the buck over 200 yards to the road and the pickup. The buck is a 7x5 and measured 116 5/8 Pope and Young. Thanks for reading my story. Keep em coming, these stories are exciting. Chuck T
