I’m not a Whitetail hunter. I’m no good at it. They fall far down my list of favorite species to pursue. I have no patience for them. They get my goat. Some of my biggest hunting disappointments have come chasing them. Two bucks haunt me to this day. The kind of anguish and regret that you see in living colour when you close your eyes to sleep at night. Despite that, like many others, I have likely killed more Whitetail than any other single species of big game. I think I can count on two fingers the number of hunting seasons that have come and gone in the last 26 years that I haven’t put at least one in the pot. But I still grow to hate them every season for one reason or another and usually they are an adjunct to whatever else is on the docket.

This season was a complete, although expected, strike out on the draw system and general Elk would take more time than I had. So Whitetail it was. My oldest son was old enough to hunt this year, so that brought a ray of light to the subject. He would be the focus so that provided more than enough excitement to the fall hunting schedule. As hoped, things worked out and together we were able to harvest a good first buck. A successful stock and shot capped the experience and it is something we will always remember. Mission accomplished.

A bit renewed by the whole experience it was my turn and on a successful Mule Deer doe meat mission for a long time hunting partner we saw a decent Whitetail chasing a doe at last light. Too late to do anything about it then we decided to return in the morning to see if he was still around. Unfortunately due to uncontrollable circumstances my hunting partner was unable to make it so the next morning found me alone squinting through my spotting scope before first light.

By some lucky happenstance, nearly two miles in the distance, I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a Whitetail buck in pursuit of a doe as they briefly sky lined themselves. In that light and at that distance I could only assume it was a buck and doe and decided to hedge my bets, park the truck, and start the one and a half mile stalk as headlights were filtering in from all directions. So with backpack on and rifle slung I hurried to cover the first half a mile undetected. It worked, but now the work began.

From now on I would be intermittently exposed to their view. The good news was I could now see the buck and new it looked like the buck from the night before, the bad news was I could now hear a vehicle coming from another direction through a lane that would lead them to within a half a mile of the deer. Undoubtedly they would also see them. My heart sank a bit, but there was nothing to be gained in crying over spilled milk so I carried on. Fortunately for me, this group of hunters saw me as well as the deer and in an act of true sportsmanship elected to sit and watch me make my effort to harvest this deer.

A half a mile later of careful stop and go, watch, and observe later I was ready to see if I could actually pull this thing off. The deer were higher than me and I had a long way to go with only the slight screen of fencerow grass and a few strands of barbed wire to hide my approach. I got on my hands and knees and started carefully along stopping frequently to observe the deer making sure I hadn’t been made. There was a deep coulee 2/3 of the way there and if I could make it I would have an easy approach to within 300 yards of their current location. So I started to crawl.

I quickly realized that, with pack, spotting scope on a tripod, and gun in tow this was going to be a long drawn out affair. I had seen this movie before and my knees ached just thinking about it not to mention I didn’t think I had the luxury of that kind of time. So far these deer had not at any time, that I had observed, looked in my direction. So I took a leap of faith and decided to hug the fence line and walk hunched over, slowly, stopping intermittently to check on the observations of these few deer ahead of me.

It worked. Almost. About halfway between my leg stretching exercise and the targeted coulee, heads came up and flags started flying. Crap. Or maybe not? It soon became apparent that I was not the source of their concern. They were coming my direction. If they got into the coulee they were headed for I would still have a chance. They did, but only two of them, the buck stayed put and I couldn’t figure out why. Now I had these deer to contend with as they were standing in my way for a final approach.

The buck was now, for the first time, clearly facing away so I took the opportunity to quickly make my way out of sight. I did, and instead of winding my way through the coulee to within three hundred yards I decided to pop up quickly 500 yards away and see if he was still there. He was gone. Not knowing what to think I decided to quickly cut over the top of a horseshoe bend in the coulee to save myself a couple hundred yards of meandering. I had 75 yards to cover before dropping back down into the ravine and as I approached the halfway point he appeared. Apparently he had bedded down at his last known location in a patch of sage brush (that I didn’t think would hide a rabbit) and while I was watching that location he decided to shift and came half out of his bed.

Ugh. I quickly ducked back into the coulee but now had no idea if he had seen me. If he had the game was likely up. If he hadn’t I at least knew his location. Now back in the coulee I rounded a bend and of course came face to face with the earlier quickly departing does. Up and out of the coulee they went and at this point I could only hope they didn’t blow my cover.

Finally I was able to crawl out of the coulee at my planned destination, but again saw no sign of the deer. With nothing to lose I crawled the next 200 yds and then decided to ditch my pack and just go on with my rifle and binoculars. After 50 more yards of intermittent checking with the binoculars I chambered a round and thumbed on the safety and then continued forward. Another 20 yards finally brought what I had been hoping for. I found antler in my field of view as I scanned ahead with the binos, He was there. Facing East, the wind at his back and I was coming from the North North West. Perfect. The cross wind was taking my scent away and nicely masking the sound of my approach. But now what?

I figured the closer I got the more likely I would be to have a good shooting opportunity. Even if he bolted. So I would go a yard or two and then check with the binoculars. So far so good. Inside of 15 yards I knew things were coming to a head. It was time to fish or cut bait as they say. I needed to make a decision. Carefully I eased into the squatting position and moved the safety forward. Then bringing the Model 70 to bear, with both eyes open, I slowly stood up.

As expected, he blew out of there like a scalded cat angling away steeply to my right. My shot caught him in the right hip with the 140gr TSX angling forward and coming to rest just under the hide immediately behind his left shoulder. He reacted and I knew he was hit. As he circled around to my right I caught him again in the right shoulder and ending it right there. Bang 1..2..3..Bang. He isn’t the biggest trophy around, but man what a rush!

Soon the other observing party where there with congratulations and excitement at what they had just witnessed. Apparently it was about as fun watch as it was to carry out! They then helped with some photos and retrieval. A perfect end to a great morning!

Maybe I will have to buy a Whitetail tag again next year!

Nice buck.

A bit different then the big woods whitetails where seeing a 100 yards is a long ways

You will remember the hunt and stalk long after the meat is gone.

Dave

Great story. I feel like I was there with you.

Jeez,I would like to see what you shoot if you ever get serious about whitetail hunting.Nice buck,good story.OB

Very good!

Well done

good stuff! Heck of a stalk!

Chuck,

Nice buck and a very nice write up. I was right there with you. Nice shooting also.

Mark

quote:

Originally posted by Chuck Nelson:

I grew up hunting whitetails in Texas back before all the good land got leased up so fat bankers could shoot them from stands over feeders full of chemically-enhanced corn.

That buck is gorgeous. He has all of the class and elegance that whitetails used to have. I've always wanted a buck like that one, and maybe someday I'll get it.

Thanks for sharing that with us.


Okie John

great buck and great story! Thanks for sharing them!