Big WI buck
11-24-2009, 07:26 PM
#16
Fork Horn
Thread Starter
Join Date: Feb 2003
Location: Franklin WI USA
Posts: 336
Well, I was sitting in what is traditionally one of our best rifle stands. Up on a pretty open oak ridge, with some big tall jack pines to me left. The pines are pretty open, and though they are very tall, there is little underbrush in them. The deer love to cross onto our property (80 acres) here and it's a natural bottleneck. The adjacent property is 600 acres owned by a guy who lets one guy hunt on it. This guy actually passed away this summer, so the land is going unhunted. We've seen several big deer the past few years, and the 600 acre plot is really THE spot to be in our area. It's a big buck haven. We've seen them take 2 MONSTERS that were 150+" for sure, as well as a 170" that was unfortunately found with its antler stuck in an old barbed wire fence. The deer was trapped, and died. Our neighbor mounted the antlers, fence post, and fence. That was really horrible, he was a monster deer.
Anyway, with the dense fog that seemed to blanket much of Wisconsin for opening morning, the 5 members of our party didn't see anything opening morning. The deer I got turned out to be the only one we saw.
About 4:20, this guy comes walking, head high, through the open jack pines about 80 yards away. He stopped, but his body was totally blocked by tree trunks. He looked from side to side, ears moving to carefully locate the source of a distant gunshot. He walked forward, again stopping blocked by pines. My arms actually tired slightly as I was holding the rifle (Ruger M77 in .243 winchester) so I lowered it. I raised the gun back up after a few seconds. With a flick of his tail, he took another step, and I squeezed the trigger. At the shot, he jumped and mule kicked, and wheeled the way he came. I quickly racked another shell and fired off-hand as he dashed through the pines.
As soon as he disappeared I REALLY started shaking. When I was younger (I'm 25 now) my grandpa once woke me up in our little hunting trailer in the middle of the night after I had missed a gimme shot at a doe and said, "Hey... Are you nervous now? How nervous are you now?" So I don't get too nervoud ahead of time, but after hitting this one, I was really feeling it. I got down and walked over where he had been standing. I couldn't find any blood, and my heart sank. I realized that in my haste, I hadn't paid close attention at all to where the deer had been standing when I shot. So I returned to the tree and found a pine with a distinguishing feature and returned to that spot. I prmoptly found a splash of bright red blood on the ground. I followed a mediocre blood trail for about 30 yards, and had trouble finding any more in the fast fading light. I marked the last blood with my blaze orange hat, and backed out.
We returned to the house, and had some dinner. I kept replaying the scene in my head, and though I'm a very good shot, couldn't help but wonder if I had blown this opportunity.
I felt very anxious as we returned to the woods, me, my brother and girlfriend's cousin. Armed with several of our brightest flashlights, and a 5 million candlepower spotlight, we returned to the site of the last blood. Shortly after, we found some more. Not a ton, but enough to follow at a deliberate pace. We continued up a brushy oak ridge along a heavy trail, finding splashes of bright red, bubbly blood every 3-4 yards or so. After about 75 yards, the blood started to wane. I was feeling very dejected about the whole thing. At one point, we were stopped for 10 minutes trying to determine its line of travel. My brother eventually found a TINY speck about 20 yards ahead of the last blood after several minutes of anxious searching and waning confidence. From this spot, it really opened up -- to the point we were merely walking along pointing to the blood, totally expecting to look up and see the deer at any point. However, the trail dried up again, and we came over the ridge. The deer was leading us to a wide open soybean field connecting our woods with the big buck haven he probably called home all summer and fall long. When we reached the field edge, having gone about 175 yards, my heart again sank. I could hear my grandpa (who was waiting at the camp by the phone -- bad knees prevent him from these long tracking jobs) telling me as a kid, "AH. If he can go this far he can go another 200 yards." As we got to the field edge we contemplated our move. Tracking through this bean field could take all night. How badly was the deer wounded? Did we risk pushing him further if we hadn't already? I'm not kidding, but while we pondered our move, a coyote howled in the distance and we decided to continue. I took the giant spotlight, and in something of a desperate move, shined the cut soybean field ahead of us. About 150 yards out, in the middle of the field, he was laying there! We snuck quietly until we could confirm he was dead. At that point, we ran. We exchanged hugs, high fives, and I called home base. I can't describe it to anyone who doesn't hunt, but I'll never forget the feeling of seeing him laying there, and grabbing his antlers for the first time. My grandpa's hunted for 40+ years and this is bigger than his biggest, just slightly. I hope to get more like this one, but I realize that if I don't, I'll always have this one, and will never forget it.
He field dressed 175 pounds, 21.5 inch outside spread, 19.5 inches inside. G2's measure 7" tall.
Also, for the record, the shot hit him a few inches further back than intended, and he was more quartering away then I thought as well. I shredded one lung and took out a rib on the way in and out (85 grain Barnes TSX).
Anyway, with the dense fog that seemed to blanket much of Wisconsin for opening morning, the 5 members of our party didn't see anything opening morning. The deer I got turned out to be the only one we saw.
About 4:20, this guy comes walking, head high, through the open jack pines about 80 yards away. He stopped, but his body was totally blocked by tree trunks. He looked from side to side, ears moving to carefully locate the source of a distant gunshot. He walked forward, again stopping blocked by pines. My arms actually tired slightly as I was holding the rifle (Ruger M77 in .243 winchester) so I lowered it. I raised the gun back up after a few seconds. With a flick of his tail, he took another step, and I squeezed the trigger. At the shot, he jumped and mule kicked, and wheeled the way he came. I quickly racked another shell and fired off-hand as he dashed through the pines.
As soon as he disappeared I REALLY started shaking. When I was younger (I'm 25 now) my grandpa once woke me up in our little hunting trailer in the middle of the night after I had missed a gimme shot at a doe and said, "Hey... Are you nervous now? How nervous are you now?" So I don't get too nervoud ahead of time, but after hitting this one, I was really feeling it. I got down and walked over where he had been standing. I couldn't find any blood, and my heart sank. I realized that in my haste, I hadn't paid close attention at all to where the deer had been standing when I shot. So I returned to the tree and found a pine with a distinguishing feature and returned to that spot. I prmoptly found a splash of bright red blood on the ground. I followed a mediocre blood trail for about 30 yards, and had trouble finding any more in the fast fading light. I marked the last blood with my blaze orange hat, and backed out.
We returned to the house, and had some dinner. I kept replaying the scene in my head, and though I'm a very good shot, couldn't help but wonder if I had blown this opportunity.
I felt very anxious as we returned to the woods, me, my brother and girlfriend's cousin. Armed with several of our brightest flashlights, and a 5 million candlepower spotlight, we returned to the site of the last blood. Shortly after, we found some more. Not a ton, but enough to follow at a deliberate pace. We continued up a brushy oak ridge along a heavy trail, finding splashes of bright red, bubbly blood every 3-4 yards or so. After about 75 yards, the blood started to wane. I was feeling very dejected about the whole thing. At one point, we were stopped for 10 minutes trying to determine its line of travel. My brother eventually found a TINY speck about 20 yards ahead of the last blood after several minutes of anxious searching and waning confidence. From this spot, it really opened up -- to the point we were merely walking along pointing to the blood, totally expecting to look up and see the deer at any point. However, the trail dried up again, and we came over the ridge. The deer was leading us to a wide open soybean field connecting our woods with the big buck haven he probably called home all summer and fall long. When we reached the field edge, having gone about 175 yards, my heart again sank. I could hear my grandpa (who was waiting at the camp by the phone -- bad knees prevent him from these long tracking jobs) telling me as a kid, "AH. If he can go this far he can go another 200 yards." As we got to the field edge we contemplated our move. Tracking through this bean field could take all night. How badly was the deer wounded? Did we risk pushing him further if we hadn't already? I'm not kidding, but while we pondered our move, a coyote howled in the distance and we decided to continue. I took the giant spotlight, and in something of a desperate move, shined the cut soybean field ahead of us. About 150 yards out, in the middle of the field, he was laying there! We snuck quietly until we could confirm he was dead. At that point, we ran. We exchanged hugs, high fives, and I called home base. I can't describe it to anyone who doesn't hunt, but I'll never forget the feeling of seeing him laying there, and grabbing his antlers for the first time. My grandpa's hunted for 40+ years and this is bigger than his biggest, just slightly. I hope to get more like this one, but I realize that if I don't, I'll always have this one, and will never forget it.
He field dressed 175 pounds, 21.5 inch outside spread, 19.5 inches inside. G2's measure 7" tall.
Also, for the record, the shot hit him a few inches further back than intended, and he was more quartering away then I thought as well. I shredded one lung and took out a rib on the way in and out (85 grain Barnes TSX).
Last edited by H80Hunter; 11-24-2009 at 07:30 PM.
