The First Buck

Opening year at our new lease had already been an interesting one, with cougars and moose walking past our tent during bow season. So my anticipation was high as I stepped out into the darkness starting for my blind. As it was, I was paranoid about moose enough since we seen the mama and calf tracks earlier in the year, I was surprised I hadn't notice them sooner. On my foot path that I had just walked the night before, had fresh, very fresh moose prints, a mama and a baby again. I nearly dropped dead right there; I only had grabbed six bullets! I slowly backed about forty yards down the trail, trying to listening between my feet crunching snow and my heart hammering out of my chest. Even though I knew fully that if that mama moose knew I was there I'd already be dead or severely maimed.

I crouched on a rock and let my paranoia pass. Then continued my slow and fearful approach to the property line where my blind was set up. As I came around the last bend that came into my shooting lane I had another surprise. Between when I had been to my blind last and early opening morning someone had set up a tree stand thirty yards from my blind. Again I was scared half to death, but luckily there was no one in it. I sat that morning in my blind and didn't see a thing besides grouse, squirrels, and chipmunks. Ate about four granola bars and drank a can of mountain dew.

Finally I heard shots at about eleven-thirty or twelve. Although that's pretty poor, only a couple shots from our group opening morning. But those shots made me keep my butt in the chair for another hour and a half, waiting to see if anything would spook from the shooting on the other side of the ridge. Nothing came of it, so I decided to head in for lunch, being very careful as I turned onto my main trail by the mysteriously appearing tree stand. Then carefully walked back to camp hoping to jump a huge buck on the trail.

The shooting turned out to be my fiancé', Jake, he had shot a beautiful nine point buck! He was already posing with the darn thing when I showed up at one o'clock in that afternoon. He gloated around camp for a while as we ate a quick lunch and heard the story of his nine pointer. I left early, determined to get a buck this year. I'd been hunting for nearly six years without a buck! This year would be the change on that tradition.

I snuck so quietly out to my blind; I swear I didn't even stir a squirrel up. I got to the blind gradually inching my way through the opening, leaning my gun to the left side of the blind, and setting myself in the crisp camping chair trying not to be noisy. In my blind there's three large zip down windows then three shot-thru smaller mesh windows for bow hunting. Well the wind was blowing hard from the east that day so I had that window mostly zipped up, and the right and front windows all the way down thankfully.

It wasn't fifteen minutes after I sat down that I heard a branch crack from behind me. Slowly I turned my head to the right where I saw a pair of antlers stick out from beyond a tree trunk. I was so surprised I was calm I did was I was suppose to do, move slowly to get the gun, but then he hopped out of the woods. That buck was pissed, looking me dead in the eye with his head shaking, feet stomping, and snorting. I had to stop, completely still otherwise he would have spooked for sure. So there I sat gun half way turned over in midair staring at this deer. After about a minute of him making sure I wasn't a threat to him he hopped back into the woods, heading away from me.

That's when I started praying. I prayed to God, and I asked my friend Noah and my "second" mom who both had just passed to make that buck turn around! It was funny because Julie always called me buck. So I prayed and prayed that the deer would turn around and come into my second shooting lane, and this time I'd be ready. Sure enough instead of following the ridgeline like a buck during that season would, it turned and stood right in my second lane. Albeit my shot was between six big trees and I could see about foot of brown that was his chest cavity. I pulled up, shot and I'm thinking the shock made him stand there but I ran another shell and shot him again with my .30.06 Ruger. Jake said later that he didn't think it was me who shot because it sounded like a semi-auto for how fast the first two shots went off. After that the buck did run. I picked up the radio to let my future sister in-law, Sara know I needed a dragging partner, and Vinko Jake's dad told me to wait another ten minutes then check on it. I'd already waited a few minutes but I did wait out the painstaking extra time.

Finally I got up and ran to the end of my shooting lane where I found blood and foamy blood indicating a lung shot. I was so pumped! I'm wound up even writing about it! I took two steps into the thick underbrush when he jumped up, and I was hot and ready to go so I pulled up and shot him again. I'm pretty sure I missed that one. After that the chase was on I used my last three bullets to finish off the buck, he was left with a broken jaw, and very dead. Which I was ecstatic about because I forgot my buck knife so I was really hoping he was all the way dead!

Soon after the Rambo reenactment, back-up arrived, Sara, with her gun and knife, then Jake and our friend Arj. We figured it was about one-hundred and five pound, eight point buck. Since Jake gutted I,t I was left with the task of dragging in the two/thirds of a mile back to camp and keeping the heart in my pocket. Thankfully Sara and I had already made "the dragging pack", I get one she helps, and she gets one I help. Boy I tell you that was a rough trip back, tripping, falling. We had no rope to tie to, so we were dragging from the horns almost head-butted each other a few times but it was all worth it when we fried up that deer heart.