The day broke clear and cool as i settled into that sacred tree tucked way back in my favorite section of DCNF bottomlamd..* The lingering sounds of hoot owls and coyotes hold onto the last shred of darkness as shadows grow brighter and the night gives way to the day.. Six woodies buzz the treetops like fighter jets then swoop and cup, landing in a nearby stream in search of White Oak acorns. Its the kind of spot that many crave but few will find, and its taken me all of 10 years to zero in on this magical stand location. Every year ive been fortunate enough to put one more piece of the public land puzzle together up here and little do i know in 3 hours its all going to pay big dividends..
The first hour was relatively uneventful with cat squirrels and wood ducks filling out most of the action. Im always amazed at how a critter larger than I, can sneak in ever so quietly and close the distance to 20 yards before I ever pick up his sound. Something catches my eye, but as he pops thru the sweeping branches of an Ironwood i see its just a big blonde Pineywoods Rooter. He slips by unaware and gives me confidence that I have the light South wind to my full advantage. Another hour goes by then 2 and my mind is racing, doubting and strategizing my next move. Its now approaching 10am and ill be honest, I've reached that point where lack of movement meets hunger meets time to climb down. With my Thermacell off, arrow back in quiver and a good stretch I start fumbling with my pack. Drectly behind me, 30yds out i pick up horns through the Ironwoods and i see its a shooter 8. Hes chomping Swamp White Oak acorns as big as golf balls and despite the racket i just made he is oblivious to my presence. He turns to walk the opposite direction and I quickly put a grunt call in my mouth. Once, twice then a doe bleat for good measure... he literally bolts at a dead run and i watch that white flag vanish through the brush. Shaking my head, no way could I have spooked him that badly.. surely there is something else here. No sooner did i think it and a ten year old tree shakes violently not 15 yards from my stand. As I peer around a massive Water Oak I see a hind quarter but not yet any Horn.. The deer is working a ground scrape and making sure his pre orbital glands coat the overhanging branches thoroughly.* I fumble with my quiver and nock another arrow,*not so quietly I might add. But this deer is too jacked up for it to bother him, he's looking for a fight and all fear is gone as he struts in all bowed up and stiff-legged. He closes the distance to 10 yds now 5 with every tree he passes being punished by his massive rack. My grunting did not sit well with him, this is HIS bedroom and intruders will not be tolerated. As he passes directly under me I get a full view of the antlers he is sporting. I see the nice kicker and notice all the trash around his bases, what a buck and i have him dead to rights, straight down. It's now or never as I draw my HOYT and settle the pin between his shoulder blades from the top. I let it fly and it's a clean pass-through exiting the side of his neck and lodging in the sod.* He bounds off to 30 yards and gives me that 'what just happened' look we've all seen as bowhunters. Now I know I hit him Square but he's not showing any signs of going down and has only a slight stiffness to his gate. I nock another arrow as he goes behind some trees, next shot opportunity will be far as I see a gap he should definitely cross. He steps into the opening and I stop him broadside at what I can only guess is around 50 yards. At that moment he was a magazine cover, an oil painting hanging in someone's den in South Alabama. Sunlight beaming down on him from the Heavens and there he stood in all his Majestic Beauty waiting for the arrow to sink. I touch the release and the 100gr Montec zips through the air with a heavy arch burying in the crease behind his muscular front shoulder. He hunches up and bolts for cover, I can hear him hoofing it through the brush and briars for 100yds or so, then nothing.The woods go dead again as I hang my bow and dance a little jig on my platform 17 feet off the ground. I visualize the Arrow flying, arching, sinking.. it was a picture perfect shot and to this moment I still cannot see how i did it. I've missed a lot of deer over the years with my bow and this could have easily been another one added to the tally. At this point I'm so jacked up I can't see straight! I give a couple of fist pumps to an imaginary friend and begin to pack things away.
After some time passes I climb down and retrieve my first Arrow. Soaked in blood from bow to stern but I can tell it's only a muscle wound and return the arrow to my quiver. As i approach the opening where he last stood I locate The Tell-Tale divots where his hooves dug in when the arrow found its mark. Light blood on a white oak leaf and im headed down the trail. The Blood starts to thicken up a bit and I can now see it spraying quite generously. Ive now gone 40yds and ive reached that point in a blood trail where you go from Crouched-down to upright as the blood is very visible. I come to a small clearing up ahead and as I kneel to survey the ground, I see antlers! YES!!!! HES DOWN!
I'd like to say I calmly walked up to him and claimed my prize but I'd be lying. I tore out in a dead run and rejoiced all the way to him! He's the biggest whitetail I've ever held in my hands and im still taken back at his gnarly rack long tine length. He hit 150" Gross with over 5 inches of mass at the bases and a G2 near 13 inches! Just an ancient old creature and i felt very honored in his presence. I hopped back in my kayak and paddled the small creek all the way to camp. Once I rounded up the boys we struck out on our near mile hike to fetch the Beast. When I say Beast I mean it in every sense of the word, this dude was over 200 pounds on the hoof and we felt it every step of the way. We had to swim 3 creeks with him and it took the better part the afternoon to get the giant back to camp. We wasted no time loading him in the truck and running to town. On the way I got in touch with GarGuy and told him of the deer. In 5 minutes flat he was there to greet us and lay his hands on the old Bruiser. We all stood over him and admired his Beauty as I told the story of the hunt... A while back at an arrowhead show I had mentioned to Steve the place I had found as I know he used to run those woods. He grinned from ear-to-ear and said "that's a good spot, I'm surprised you found it" haha. Little did I know his Father used to hunt it as a kid and took Steve there when he was a young boy as well. Now I don't want to give his age away, but that's well over 50 years of hunting in that Sanctuary for the Barclays! Like I said in the beginning, It's a place that many crave but few will find. I feel so blessed to have taken such a beautiful creature with my stick and string and to share it with family and friends puts it over the top. Cheers fellas, this hunt was definitely one*to be remembered-
Sent from my SAMSUNG-SM-G930A using Tapatalk
The first hour was relatively uneventful with cat squirrels and wood ducks filling out most of the action. Im always amazed at how a critter larger than I, can sneak in ever so quietly and close the distance to 20 yards before I ever pick up his sound. Something catches my eye, but as he pops thru the sweeping branches of an Ironwood i see its just a big blonde Pineywoods Rooter. He slips by unaware and gives me confidence that I have the light South wind to my full advantage. Another hour goes by then 2 and my mind is racing, doubting and strategizing my next move. Its now approaching 10am and ill be honest, I've reached that point where lack of movement meets hunger meets time to climb down. With my Thermacell off, arrow back in quiver and a good stretch I start fumbling with my pack. Drectly behind me, 30yds out i pick up horns through the Ironwoods and i see its a shooter 8. Hes chomping Swamp White Oak acorns as big as golf balls and despite the racket i just made he is oblivious to my presence. He turns to walk the opposite direction and I quickly put a grunt call in my mouth. Once, twice then a doe bleat for good measure... he literally bolts at a dead run and i watch that white flag vanish through the brush. Shaking my head, no way could I have spooked him that badly.. surely there is something else here. No sooner did i think it and a ten year old tree shakes violently not 15 yards from my stand. As I peer around a massive Water Oak I see a hind quarter but not yet any Horn.. The deer is working a ground scrape and making sure his pre orbital glands coat the overhanging branches thoroughly.* I fumble with my quiver and nock another arrow,*not so quietly I might add. But this deer is too jacked up for it to bother him, he's looking for a fight and all fear is gone as he struts in all bowed up and stiff-legged. He closes the distance to 10 yds now 5 with every tree he passes being punished by his massive rack. My grunting did not sit well with him, this is HIS bedroom and intruders will not be tolerated. As he passes directly under me I get a full view of the antlers he is sporting. I see the nice kicker and notice all the trash around his bases, what a buck and i have him dead to rights, straight down. It's now or never as I draw my HOYT and settle the pin between his shoulder blades from the top. I let it fly and it's a clean pass-through exiting the side of his neck and lodging in the sod.* He bounds off to 30 yards and gives me that 'what just happened' look we've all seen as bowhunters. Now I know I hit him Square but he's not showing any signs of going down and has only a slight stiffness to his gate. I nock another arrow as he goes behind some trees, next shot opportunity will be far as I see a gap he should definitely cross. He steps into the opening and I stop him broadside at what I can only guess is around 50 yards. At that moment he was a magazine cover, an oil painting hanging in someone's den in South Alabama. Sunlight beaming down on him from the Heavens and there he stood in all his Majestic Beauty waiting for the arrow to sink. I touch the release and the 100gr Montec zips through the air with a heavy arch burying in the crease behind his muscular front shoulder. He hunches up and bolts for cover, I can hear him hoofing it through the brush and briars for 100yds or so, then nothing.The woods go dead again as I hang my bow and dance a little jig on my platform 17 feet off the ground. I visualize the Arrow flying, arching, sinking.. it was a picture perfect shot and to this moment I still cannot see how i did it. I've missed a lot of deer over the years with my bow and this could have easily been another one added to the tally. At this point I'm so jacked up I can't see straight! I give a couple of fist pumps to an imaginary friend and begin to pack things away.
After some time passes I climb down and retrieve my first Arrow. Soaked in blood from bow to stern but I can tell it's only a muscle wound and return the arrow to my quiver. As i approach the opening where he last stood I locate The Tell-Tale divots where his hooves dug in when the arrow found its mark. Light blood on a white oak leaf and im headed down the trail. The Blood starts to thicken up a bit and I can now see it spraying quite generously. Ive now gone 40yds and ive reached that point in a blood trail where you go from Crouched-down to upright as the blood is very visible. I come to a small clearing up ahead and as I kneel to survey the ground, I see antlers! YES!!!! HES DOWN!
I'd like to say I calmly walked up to him and claimed my prize but I'd be lying. I tore out in a dead run and rejoiced all the way to him! He's the biggest whitetail I've ever held in my hands and im still taken back at his gnarly rack long tine length. He hit 150" Gross with over 5 inches of mass at the bases and a G2 near 13 inches! Just an ancient old creature and i felt very honored in his presence. I hopped back in my kayak and paddled the small creek all the way to camp. Once I rounded up the boys we struck out on our near mile hike to fetch the Beast. When I say Beast I mean it in every sense of the word, this dude was over 200 pounds on the hoof and we felt it every step of the way. We had to swim 3 creeks with him and it took the better part the afternoon to get the giant back to camp. We wasted no time loading him in the truck and running to town. On the way I got in touch with GarGuy and told him of the deer. In 5 minutes flat he was there to greet us and lay his hands on the old Bruiser. We all stood over him and admired his Beauty as I told the story of the hunt... A while back at an arrowhead show I had mentioned to Steve the place I had found as I know he used to run those woods. He grinned from ear-to-ear and said "that's a good spot, I'm surprised you found it" haha. Little did I know his Father used to hunt it as a kid and took Steve there when he was a young boy as well. Now I don't want to give his age away, but that's well over 50 years of hunting in that Sanctuary for the Barclays! Like I said in the beginning, It's a place that many crave but few will find. I feel so blessed to have taken such a beautiful creature with my stick and string and to share it with family and friends puts it over the top. Cheers fellas, this hunt was definitely one*to be remembered-
Sent from my SAMSUNG-SM-G930A using Tapatalk
awesome buck.
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