This write-up will be polar opposite of any physical attribute that I may possess, meaning it will be long and lengthy. But, the only way to get the story across, as I lived it, to give it life eternal is to leave no stone unturned. So read this in parts, or in its entirety, on the john, or in the stand. I'll sprinkle in pics along the way for you guys who look at Playboy not just for the great write-ups, but also for the pictures and centerfolds. In the late summer of '19, Bryan (Wingnut) and I were headed back to Taco Bob's in McAlester for our 7th or 16th trip in just a few weeks when a for sale sign caught our eye. We had been traveling the dusty white rock roads of Hughes County, Oklahoma, just south of the Canadian River. We drove the eastern property line of the advertised 400 acres and could only describe what we saw as a whitetail oasis in the middle of thick woods all around it. We pulled up Google maps while we sat and idled outside the entry gate and saw that a creek system ran the entire span east to west, about a mile long. The property looked from the outside to be a replica of the Kansas terrain that we had fallen in love hunting in years past.
South Fork From The East Road
And really, buying the property wasn't even an option to consider, it was just too much land. But as Bryan often does, he found a way. He has a knack for doing things like that. Last fall, was rushed and old school. We had no time for preparation on this property. We just hunted it Kansas style went off of intuition of what seemed right. We put cameras out all over the place and on our first card pull, had an 8 point that would score in the 130s with another buck we named Stickers that would end up scoring right at 140. Bryan shot Stickers on the evening of Halloween after hanging a stand at lunch at a spot that he named the Creek Pinch. It was an area and a spot that made sense to him, and a tactic that we were familiar with from hunting Kansas.
Bryan's 2019 Halloween Buck, "Stickers"
It was around this time that we got pics of our first true monster, a solid 10 that would score north of 160. He earned the name Ribcage due to the uncanny resemblance to a row of ribs.
Ribcage 2019
Ribcage would go on to become the mascot for South Fork Ranch. We had Steve Armstrong (Saltaholic) make us some metal signs based off of a drawing that I had done of Ribcage and he knocked them out the park!
Bryan with the new signs by Saltaholic
I hunted multiple properties throughout 2019 but my mind was really back at home in Sulphur Springs, because of the 150+" 10 point I had right in front of my house. We saw numerous 3 year olds that showed potential and had pics of some very nice prospects overall. We marked every scrape and sizeable rub that we found on Huntstand and OnX. We were kids in a candy store with this property, learning it and the deer herd.
The season last year ended with several pigs meeting their demise, but every buck got a pass after Stickers was killed. I had one 8 point that was a travelling buck that was mature and wide that slipped in behind me that I would have killed, but like big bucks do, he simply stopped, turned, and walked out of sight. He would have been in the upper 30s. Late in December, the deer numbers seemed as if they had doubled on camera since early October. We had deer everywhere. There was a trio of 8 points that banded up after the rut and showed up on every camera we had. They were named the Three Amigos. They were 3 year olds and nothing special. I had videoed one of them under my stand on November the 8th. I would go on to find his matching set outside of one of our protein feeders, and then another of their sheds up on a hill in a bedding area. The matching set scored 97 inches, with 18 whopping inches of mass total.
Larry in 2019 as a 3 year old
Larry's sheds found in April 2020
Later in the spring, after horns had fallen and velvet bulbs were protruding through the skin, Bryan wanted to rename the trio, the Three Stooges. We began running 3 1200# Boss Buck protein feeders around the place and at the one we named the North protein feeder, we had a trio of 4 year olds showing up daily. We knew who they were, but could tell nothing about their horns at this point. Then, towards the end of May, we had a card pull that got us overly excited. A buck was at the feeder that was already way past the other bucks and he was BIG. Even though he was part of the Three Stooges, Bryan went on to name him Megatron. The name fit. He was big.
First Pic of Megatron in May 2020
As we were watching him grow bigger and bigger with each pull, we noticed his running buddy was catching up fast. This buck was named Larry, and Larry is the reason for this write-up, but we'll get to that later. Megatron and Larry were freaking stud 4 year olds. They consumed protein day and night. I don't know that we ever had a 24 hours period where they were not at that feeder.
Larry and Megatron 2020
You're probably wondering about Ribcage by now and he's a ghost at this point in the story. We knew that he had survived the season, as we had pics of him all the way to February, but nothing past that. None of the bucks were taking shape to be him and none of the bucks had his body size. We knew early on that Ribcage did not summer on South Fork, which was a letdown because we were prepared to throw the protein to him. As we have all had those times in our lives where we find out how small of a world we live in by talking to someone and finding commonality in something, it happened to me in early August. I was buying cypress posts for my porch from our local saw mill guy in Sulphur Springs when we began talking about hunting. I had hunted with this guy a few times back in high school in the early 90s. I have only seen him one time since and his boy who is a man now wasn't born back then, so I am meeting him for the first time that day. I told him that I was hunting Oklahoma now with Bryan and he said he too had been hunting Oklahoma. We both said McAlester area and after refining down to smaller communities west of there, we ultimately found out that there was 1, uno, property in between us. One small 160 acre property is all that separates our north fence and their south fence. I told you all of that, to tell you this. We both pulled out our phones to show trail cam pics and we had many of the same bucks on our phones. And I told you that, to tell you this, Ribcage summered on them. On a danged ole free choice corn feeder. He could have been summering on us, eating 18% protein, living his best life, but no, not the case. He is now chasing every doe that we have on the place, showing up on every camera that we have. So Ribcage summers on them and spends the fall on us. We have the better deal in my opinion. They did inherit a jacked up 10 point that would score in the 40s if he didn't have a screwed up long jagged spike on one side. I got that pic from them the other day. I then sent several of him at the protein in different phases of his growth this summer and told them that we feed them better than they do.
Ribcage on neighbors to the North 2020
So now to Larry. Larry is a buck that I had great reservations about. I found his sheds this spring, I videoed him as a 3 year old 8 point last fall. I knew his age, I know what he scored, I knew where he was bedding, most of his travel routes, I knew this buck. I also new that he was blowing up before my very eyes. He just got bigger every time we pulled the cards. When I say this, I don't mean in a rhetorical way. Of course he got bigger as the days went on, but this buck ultimately would put on 60 inches in one year. He went from 97 inches with 18 inches of mass as a 3 year old, to 157 with 31 inches of mass. And he wasn't the only one doing this. His compadre, his amigo, his ole pal Megatron was doing the same dang thang! This was on 6 months of 18 percent deer protein. Living on it. If ever there was a doubt about supplemental feeding, there was zero now.
THE HUNT: The water was starting to run into my eyes. It wasn't a hard rain by any stretch of the imagination, but it had been not 20 minutes prior. It was a cold steady drizzle now, and I could finally raise my head back up. I was dry for the most part, tucked 15 high in a post oak tree. There was no other place on planet earth that I would have rather been at the moment. It was October the 28th in South Eastern Oklahoma, the County, Hughes, the ranch, South Fork. I was a blue dot on my Apple Maps, pinging on the side of creek bottom and a freshly sprouted food plot.
West stand location
Muzzle loader season was underway, but my left handed Mathews Vertix swung gently in the morning breeze. I had bought the bow back in January off of TBH, and for the first time, did all of the set up myself, all the way down to building the Gold Tip arrows that sat in the quiver not two foot away. It had already claimed 2 does and a devil of a boar hog, and little did I know, was going to add a 157" buck named Larry in the next few minutes. We say it all the time, we text it just as often, "it's just looking right, then left, then right again, and he appears."
Mathews Vertix
All year, Bryan and I had talked to everyone that we met from McAlester, to Kiowa, to Stuart, about the best time to hunt in SE Oklahoma. And Every.Single.Time., the answer was the same; Muzzleloader season. We had always found that the 7-13 of November was our most productive hunting in Kansas, and hunted Oklahoma the same, until this year. This year, we were ready, and so was the rain. I drove up on Sunday afternoon, October 25th to clear skies and hunted that afternoon at Owl Creek. I saw a handful of two year old bucks and then drove to South Fork, where I would be hunting until the morning of Halloween. I woke up to torrential rain and a forecast that would depress a catfish. With three days of straight rain in the forecast, I made the decision to drive back to Sulphur Springs and gauge the weather from there. I was back at the office by 8:15am. One of the incredible advantages of hunting SE Oklahoma is the 2 hour and 15 minute drive. Tuesday at lunch it looked like it was going to start breaking up and at least become sporadic, so off I went back up. I had left everything in Barndo as if I was returning from the convenience store, which was an odd feeling because I couldn't shake the feeling that I was forgetting something the whole drive up. Bryan had left earlier in the morning and was waiting when I pulled up. It was just drizzling now and was huntable. We donned our rain suits and off we went. It stayed somewhat dry for much of the evening hunt, which for me was SLLOOOWWW. But 300 yards down the creek, Bryan would have his first sighting and encounter with Megatron, within bow range, but no shot opportunity due to brush and limbs. When I got the text that Megatron was in the area, it definitely livened things up, because for one, I was waiting for the text that he had just shot him, and two, he could pop out on me any second. I would go on to not see a deer until last light, when a young 9 point pushed a doe through my set up. The next morning we woke up to rain on the roof but nothing that we couldn't stomach with our rain suits on. I was disappointed because it caused me to have to leave my new 4k video camera and Muddy camera arm at the Barndo. I had no idea how disappointed I would actually be just 3 hours later. I had already gotten two does on film getting Tricked, and loved the added element of self filming our hunts this year. I made it to the stand on the edge of a very soggy creek bottom with time to spare. Before shooting light arrived, I was sitting there with my head down as it poured for a solid 15 minutes. By the time it let up, I could see to shoot. The morning of the 28th had a feel about it. Overcast, upper 30s, drizzly. I could smell the acids leaching out of the already browning oak leaves; the smell of wet tree bark was unmistakable with every breath. My resident squirrel was making his way down the tree branches in the same pattern that I had observed several times already this October, and once again, he looked like a kid with an entire pack of Big League Chew in his mouth. He made it to within 5 feet of me and we stared each other down, again. It was now our routine I guess. Off he went, and out of sight. I was starting to question where the deer were when at 8:04am, I looked up to see a big racked buck walking towards me off of the creek. At this point, he was within bow range but through the limbs, I could not tell which buck it was. My heart started pounding. He was grunting with every step. It was Splitters. He's a buck that gets a pass this year, as he is a 4 year old, typical 10 with split brows and two kickers shooting off the back of his beams. 14 scoreable points. He's a low 30s deer this year, and I had already passed and videoed him on a previous trip. He settled in eating corn and I settle in just watching. He threw his head up and looked back over his shoulder, towards the direction he came in from, but I could see nothing in that direction.
Splitters
He began eating again. It had also started drizzling again. I noticed movement from the trail he came in on so I pulled my iphone out and started videoing in that direction, not knowing if it was going to be a doe, a spike, or pig. I video everything. I have gotten good at having at least some video of every buck that I see, almost videoing too long sometimes, which was the case in this very instance. I could see legs walking through the drenched limbs of the oaks that were in between us, enough to know it was a deer and not a pig. I caught the glimpse of antlers, and he looked dark. It was at this point that I could tell that he was a racked buck that could be a shooter. Splitters paid this quickly approaching deer no mind. My thoughts were that he couldn't be that big because Splitters wasn't the least bit concerned. All of these thoughts occurred over just a matter of a few seconds of course. From the time that I first noticed the approaching deer and shooting him at 11 yards, would be less than 90 seconds. It was Larry, who is one of the biggest known bucks on the place. He is now standing on the other side of a black jack tree making a scrape in a display of dominance. He is 14 yards at this point. Splitters doesn't like this so off he goes on a trot. I know that I am going to get a shot at this buck.
Larry standing at scrape
I hit the red button on my phone, stopping the recording and managed to hit send into my group text, before sliding the phone into my pocket. My right hand reached out and curled around the grip of the Mathews Vertix effortlessly and without thought. I was automatic at this point…or so I thought. Let me preface this with I don't get buck fever before the shot. Calm, Cool, and Collected. I lose it after the shot. I get the shakes, bad, afterwards. Not the case on this drizzly morning. Bow is in my hand and raised waiting for opportunity. I was automatic in that endeavor, as I didn't remember getting to this point. But now, I was hyperaware, of the inner workings of my internal organs. Larry was 11 yards away, almost facing me with his head down eating. I could hear the pumping of blood through my ears. It drowned out the light rain that was falling in that SE Oklahoma creek bottom that morning. My heart was pounding in my chest, to the point it literally felt as if someone was knocking on it with a fist from the outside. I run daily, with a heart rate that averages in the mid 160s on 5-9 mile runs. My apple watch would later say that it never got over 119 during this episode, but my parasympathetic nervous system was kicked in high gear and the adrenaline was surging. My first thought was to just draw and slip the arrow low in his neck right in front of his shoulder. I talked myself off that ledge quickly and decided to wait for a better quartering shot. Only a few seconds I know, but felt like the proverbial eternity, he finally turned almost broadside. I found my pin in the peep and was settled 4 inches up his crease with no recollection of drawing my bow. No sooner had the pin found its mark; I sent the 4 blade Slick Trick deep into his cavity. All that was sticking out when he took off was the red nockturnal. I knew that he was done. I knew that I had just shot the second biggest buck of my life, and arguably the biggest framed buck of my life. There it was, the shakes, the freezing, and the teeth chattering. I fumbled my bow back on the hanger and shook my fists in the air wildly. It was the most cathartic feeling that I had had in a very long time. Somewhere in the tornado that had erupted in my thought stream, I recalled my Apple watch blowing up on my wrist. I had forgotten I was able to get the text out before the shot. After a volley of texts between Bryan, Rusty (PawPaw) and myself, it was determined that I had no business still in the tree and needed to be moving to calm my nerves. Bryan asked to track the buck with me and that was a given, he had worked harder than I had on the events that transpired that morning and it would have been my privilege to follow blood with him. Except for one thing; Larry had run down the mowed trail that we drive our Rangers on and had expired right in the middle of the tire path. Now it's time for a little back-story if you will. One year earlier, on December 1st, I had made what I thought was a chip shot on a low 40s 9 point on the Owl Creek property. I had videoed the shot on my GoPro, and it wasn't until I watched it back that I realized that his front facing leg was back and not forward. I hit his leg and only got about 6 inches of penetration. I was still optimistic because my 4 blade Slick Trick was still in him, working overtime as he ran down into the bottom. Long story short, we tracked him a couple of hundred yards until blood disappeared. I looked for him 6 miles worth of walking the Sunday that I shot him and then went back up that Wednesday and looked another 7 miles with no luck, no buzzards, no buck. I was tracking my search on both my apple watch outdoor walking feature as well as on my OnX app. I never overlapped and felt comfortable in knowing that in 13 miles of grid search, if he had expired, it was far into neighbors' properties and I had no idea of how to get in touch with them. One of the major land owners to the south and west is Reba McEntire's brother's place. I looked throughout the spring and summer as well. So I told you that story to put in perspective finding Larry. You see, I was following Larry's tracks in the mud right down the Ranger road but blood was sparse. Bryan and I can spot blood droplets the size of the periods at the end of this sentence. We have always been able to do so, and easier at night with lights. I was not seeing blood as I hurriedly walked along. But there were his tracks. I rounded the corner to my left, which enters into the creek bottom and I was standing under the pecan tree where I had my stand all last year. He ran right under its branches. You see, out of this tree last year, I videoed Larry as a 97" 3 year old 8 point. He had 18 inches of mass. I found his sheds in May not 8 feet apart from each other. This pecan tree was where it all started. It was a discussion topic after we scouted the place for the first time. It was a good area, right on the edge of the creek bottom. It was only fitting that his tracks and blood splatters went over its roots and beneath its branches. I was standing there, thinking all of these things, and not noticing the 157 inch buck laying 50 yards away, in plain sight, right in the middle of my path. I searched over 13 miles for my buck last year, and I feel that God put Larry right in my path. No anxiety, no sick feeling in my gut, just pure joy and elation. I didn't walk towards him, I didn't take a step. I just stood there, and stared, and became emotional. Tears began to stream down my face, only noticeable by the heat they put off, in stark contrast with the cold drizzle that was still falling. I walked around him as much as I could, as he was laying just by the edge of the creek, where we cross in the Ranger. I didn't allow myself to look at him. I wanted Bryan to be with me when we walked up on him. It was hard to not just collapse on him, and allow my fingers to glide over every square inch of his horns.
Larry in Ranger Path
A fog had settled over the valley on the southern border of South Fork. It was something reminiscent of a dream. Driving the half mile to pick up Bryan was a dream, parking the Ranger a bit back from Larry so we could make the walk up on him together was a dream, holding his antlers for the first time, high-fiving and hugging Bryan was a dream. It was a dream that became reality. We worked ourselves to the bone, made countless trips up the Indian Nation Turnpike to stand down in that creek bottom together, that drizzly cold late October morning. Bryan and I have been doing this bowhunting thing together since we were 12 years old. That makes 31 seasons together so far. Wouldn't trade it, not a minute, not a second. The good the bad, the blood sweat and tears, the aches, the soreness, the ticks, snakes, spiders, the miles out west, down south, up north and everywhere in between. Not a single second would I trade. This year was different, it was the best. Bryan bought South Fork, we're managing it, we make the rules, and found out this year that the sky is the limit. We put 60 inches of bone on a deer through some $8.60/bag feed store deer protein. We did it also with two other bucks that were also 3 year olds last year. We will manage a booner in the next year or two, no doubts. The dream has actually just begun, and that my friends, is what it's all about…not an hour, not a minute, not a second, for this dream that became reality
Larry and Me
Larry, Me, and Bryan
Bryan at the skinning rack
Giving Thanks!
Thank you for following along! Now for that second Oklahoma buck tag...
South Fork From The East Road
And really, buying the property wasn't even an option to consider, it was just too much land. But as Bryan often does, he found a way. He has a knack for doing things like that. Last fall, was rushed and old school. We had no time for preparation on this property. We just hunted it Kansas style went off of intuition of what seemed right. We put cameras out all over the place and on our first card pull, had an 8 point that would score in the 130s with another buck we named Stickers that would end up scoring right at 140. Bryan shot Stickers on the evening of Halloween after hanging a stand at lunch at a spot that he named the Creek Pinch. It was an area and a spot that made sense to him, and a tactic that we were familiar with from hunting Kansas.
Bryan's 2019 Halloween Buck, "Stickers"
It was around this time that we got pics of our first true monster, a solid 10 that would score north of 160. He earned the name Ribcage due to the uncanny resemblance to a row of ribs.
Ribcage 2019
Ribcage would go on to become the mascot for South Fork Ranch. We had Steve Armstrong (Saltaholic) make us some metal signs based off of a drawing that I had done of Ribcage and he knocked them out the park!
Bryan with the new signs by Saltaholic
I hunted multiple properties throughout 2019 but my mind was really back at home in Sulphur Springs, because of the 150+" 10 point I had right in front of my house. We saw numerous 3 year olds that showed potential and had pics of some very nice prospects overall. We marked every scrape and sizeable rub that we found on Huntstand and OnX. We were kids in a candy store with this property, learning it and the deer herd.
The season last year ended with several pigs meeting their demise, but every buck got a pass after Stickers was killed. I had one 8 point that was a travelling buck that was mature and wide that slipped in behind me that I would have killed, but like big bucks do, he simply stopped, turned, and walked out of sight. He would have been in the upper 30s. Late in December, the deer numbers seemed as if they had doubled on camera since early October. We had deer everywhere. There was a trio of 8 points that banded up after the rut and showed up on every camera we had. They were named the Three Amigos. They were 3 year olds and nothing special. I had videoed one of them under my stand on November the 8th. I would go on to find his matching set outside of one of our protein feeders, and then another of their sheds up on a hill in a bedding area. The matching set scored 97 inches, with 18 whopping inches of mass total.
Larry in 2019 as a 3 year old
Larry's sheds found in April 2020
Later in the spring, after horns had fallen and velvet bulbs were protruding through the skin, Bryan wanted to rename the trio, the Three Stooges. We began running 3 1200# Boss Buck protein feeders around the place and at the one we named the North protein feeder, we had a trio of 4 year olds showing up daily. We knew who they were, but could tell nothing about their horns at this point. Then, towards the end of May, we had a card pull that got us overly excited. A buck was at the feeder that was already way past the other bucks and he was BIG. Even though he was part of the Three Stooges, Bryan went on to name him Megatron. The name fit. He was big.
First Pic of Megatron in May 2020
As we were watching him grow bigger and bigger with each pull, we noticed his running buddy was catching up fast. This buck was named Larry, and Larry is the reason for this write-up, but we'll get to that later. Megatron and Larry were freaking stud 4 year olds. They consumed protein day and night. I don't know that we ever had a 24 hours period where they were not at that feeder.
Larry and Megatron 2020
You're probably wondering about Ribcage by now and he's a ghost at this point in the story. We knew that he had survived the season, as we had pics of him all the way to February, but nothing past that. None of the bucks were taking shape to be him and none of the bucks had his body size. We knew early on that Ribcage did not summer on South Fork, which was a letdown because we were prepared to throw the protein to him. As we have all had those times in our lives where we find out how small of a world we live in by talking to someone and finding commonality in something, it happened to me in early August. I was buying cypress posts for my porch from our local saw mill guy in Sulphur Springs when we began talking about hunting. I had hunted with this guy a few times back in high school in the early 90s. I have only seen him one time since and his boy who is a man now wasn't born back then, so I am meeting him for the first time that day. I told him that I was hunting Oklahoma now with Bryan and he said he too had been hunting Oklahoma. We both said McAlester area and after refining down to smaller communities west of there, we ultimately found out that there was 1, uno, property in between us. One small 160 acre property is all that separates our north fence and their south fence. I told you all of that, to tell you this. We both pulled out our phones to show trail cam pics and we had many of the same bucks on our phones. And I told you that, to tell you this, Ribcage summered on them. On a danged ole free choice corn feeder. He could have been summering on us, eating 18% protein, living his best life, but no, not the case. He is now chasing every doe that we have on the place, showing up on every camera that we have. So Ribcage summers on them and spends the fall on us. We have the better deal in my opinion. They did inherit a jacked up 10 point that would score in the 40s if he didn't have a screwed up long jagged spike on one side. I got that pic from them the other day. I then sent several of him at the protein in different phases of his growth this summer and told them that we feed them better than they do.
Ribcage on neighbors to the North 2020
So now to Larry. Larry is a buck that I had great reservations about. I found his sheds this spring, I videoed him as a 3 year old 8 point last fall. I knew his age, I know what he scored, I knew where he was bedding, most of his travel routes, I knew this buck. I also new that he was blowing up before my very eyes. He just got bigger every time we pulled the cards. When I say this, I don't mean in a rhetorical way. Of course he got bigger as the days went on, but this buck ultimately would put on 60 inches in one year. He went from 97 inches with 18 inches of mass as a 3 year old, to 157 with 31 inches of mass. And he wasn't the only one doing this. His compadre, his amigo, his ole pal Megatron was doing the same dang thang! This was on 6 months of 18 percent deer protein. Living on it. If ever there was a doubt about supplemental feeding, there was zero now.
THE HUNT: The water was starting to run into my eyes. It wasn't a hard rain by any stretch of the imagination, but it had been not 20 minutes prior. It was a cold steady drizzle now, and I could finally raise my head back up. I was dry for the most part, tucked 15 high in a post oak tree. There was no other place on planet earth that I would have rather been at the moment. It was October the 28th in South Eastern Oklahoma, the County, Hughes, the ranch, South Fork. I was a blue dot on my Apple Maps, pinging on the side of creek bottom and a freshly sprouted food plot.
West stand location
Muzzle loader season was underway, but my left handed Mathews Vertix swung gently in the morning breeze. I had bought the bow back in January off of TBH, and for the first time, did all of the set up myself, all the way down to building the Gold Tip arrows that sat in the quiver not two foot away. It had already claimed 2 does and a devil of a boar hog, and little did I know, was going to add a 157" buck named Larry in the next few minutes. We say it all the time, we text it just as often, "it's just looking right, then left, then right again, and he appears."
Mathews Vertix
All year, Bryan and I had talked to everyone that we met from McAlester, to Kiowa, to Stuart, about the best time to hunt in SE Oklahoma. And Every.Single.Time., the answer was the same; Muzzleloader season. We had always found that the 7-13 of November was our most productive hunting in Kansas, and hunted Oklahoma the same, until this year. This year, we were ready, and so was the rain. I drove up on Sunday afternoon, October 25th to clear skies and hunted that afternoon at Owl Creek. I saw a handful of two year old bucks and then drove to South Fork, where I would be hunting until the morning of Halloween. I woke up to torrential rain and a forecast that would depress a catfish. With three days of straight rain in the forecast, I made the decision to drive back to Sulphur Springs and gauge the weather from there. I was back at the office by 8:15am. One of the incredible advantages of hunting SE Oklahoma is the 2 hour and 15 minute drive. Tuesday at lunch it looked like it was going to start breaking up and at least become sporadic, so off I went back up. I had left everything in Barndo as if I was returning from the convenience store, which was an odd feeling because I couldn't shake the feeling that I was forgetting something the whole drive up. Bryan had left earlier in the morning and was waiting when I pulled up. It was just drizzling now and was huntable. We donned our rain suits and off we went. It stayed somewhat dry for much of the evening hunt, which for me was SLLOOOWWW. But 300 yards down the creek, Bryan would have his first sighting and encounter with Megatron, within bow range, but no shot opportunity due to brush and limbs. When I got the text that Megatron was in the area, it definitely livened things up, because for one, I was waiting for the text that he had just shot him, and two, he could pop out on me any second. I would go on to not see a deer until last light, when a young 9 point pushed a doe through my set up. The next morning we woke up to rain on the roof but nothing that we couldn't stomach with our rain suits on. I was disappointed because it caused me to have to leave my new 4k video camera and Muddy camera arm at the Barndo. I had no idea how disappointed I would actually be just 3 hours later. I had already gotten two does on film getting Tricked, and loved the added element of self filming our hunts this year. I made it to the stand on the edge of a very soggy creek bottom with time to spare. Before shooting light arrived, I was sitting there with my head down as it poured for a solid 15 minutes. By the time it let up, I could see to shoot. The morning of the 28th had a feel about it. Overcast, upper 30s, drizzly. I could smell the acids leaching out of the already browning oak leaves; the smell of wet tree bark was unmistakable with every breath. My resident squirrel was making his way down the tree branches in the same pattern that I had observed several times already this October, and once again, he looked like a kid with an entire pack of Big League Chew in his mouth. He made it to within 5 feet of me and we stared each other down, again. It was now our routine I guess. Off he went, and out of sight. I was starting to question where the deer were when at 8:04am, I looked up to see a big racked buck walking towards me off of the creek. At this point, he was within bow range but through the limbs, I could not tell which buck it was. My heart started pounding. He was grunting with every step. It was Splitters. He's a buck that gets a pass this year, as he is a 4 year old, typical 10 with split brows and two kickers shooting off the back of his beams. 14 scoreable points. He's a low 30s deer this year, and I had already passed and videoed him on a previous trip. He settled in eating corn and I settle in just watching. He threw his head up and looked back over his shoulder, towards the direction he came in from, but I could see nothing in that direction.
Splitters
He began eating again. It had also started drizzling again. I noticed movement from the trail he came in on so I pulled my iphone out and started videoing in that direction, not knowing if it was going to be a doe, a spike, or pig. I video everything. I have gotten good at having at least some video of every buck that I see, almost videoing too long sometimes, which was the case in this very instance. I could see legs walking through the drenched limbs of the oaks that were in between us, enough to know it was a deer and not a pig. I caught the glimpse of antlers, and he looked dark. It was at this point that I could tell that he was a racked buck that could be a shooter. Splitters paid this quickly approaching deer no mind. My thoughts were that he couldn't be that big because Splitters wasn't the least bit concerned. All of these thoughts occurred over just a matter of a few seconds of course. From the time that I first noticed the approaching deer and shooting him at 11 yards, would be less than 90 seconds. It was Larry, who is one of the biggest known bucks on the place. He is now standing on the other side of a black jack tree making a scrape in a display of dominance. He is 14 yards at this point. Splitters doesn't like this so off he goes on a trot. I know that I am going to get a shot at this buck.
Larry standing at scrape
I hit the red button on my phone, stopping the recording and managed to hit send into my group text, before sliding the phone into my pocket. My right hand reached out and curled around the grip of the Mathews Vertix effortlessly and without thought. I was automatic at this point…or so I thought. Let me preface this with I don't get buck fever before the shot. Calm, Cool, and Collected. I lose it after the shot. I get the shakes, bad, afterwards. Not the case on this drizzly morning. Bow is in my hand and raised waiting for opportunity. I was automatic in that endeavor, as I didn't remember getting to this point. But now, I was hyperaware, of the inner workings of my internal organs. Larry was 11 yards away, almost facing me with his head down eating. I could hear the pumping of blood through my ears. It drowned out the light rain that was falling in that SE Oklahoma creek bottom that morning. My heart was pounding in my chest, to the point it literally felt as if someone was knocking on it with a fist from the outside. I run daily, with a heart rate that averages in the mid 160s on 5-9 mile runs. My apple watch would later say that it never got over 119 during this episode, but my parasympathetic nervous system was kicked in high gear and the adrenaline was surging. My first thought was to just draw and slip the arrow low in his neck right in front of his shoulder. I talked myself off that ledge quickly and decided to wait for a better quartering shot. Only a few seconds I know, but felt like the proverbial eternity, he finally turned almost broadside. I found my pin in the peep and was settled 4 inches up his crease with no recollection of drawing my bow. No sooner had the pin found its mark; I sent the 4 blade Slick Trick deep into his cavity. All that was sticking out when he took off was the red nockturnal. I knew that he was done. I knew that I had just shot the second biggest buck of my life, and arguably the biggest framed buck of my life. There it was, the shakes, the freezing, and the teeth chattering. I fumbled my bow back on the hanger and shook my fists in the air wildly. It was the most cathartic feeling that I had had in a very long time. Somewhere in the tornado that had erupted in my thought stream, I recalled my Apple watch blowing up on my wrist. I had forgotten I was able to get the text out before the shot. After a volley of texts between Bryan, Rusty (PawPaw) and myself, it was determined that I had no business still in the tree and needed to be moving to calm my nerves. Bryan asked to track the buck with me and that was a given, he had worked harder than I had on the events that transpired that morning and it would have been my privilege to follow blood with him. Except for one thing; Larry had run down the mowed trail that we drive our Rangers on and had expired right in the middle of the tire path. Now it's time for a little back-story if you will. One year earlier, on December 1st, I had made what I thought was a chip shot on a low 40s 9 point on the Owl Creek property. I had videoed the shot on my GoPro, and it wasn't until I watched it back that I realized that his front facing leg was back and not forward. I hit his leg and only got about 6 inches of penetration. I was still optimistic because my 4 blade Slick Trick was still in him, working overtime as he ran down into the bottom. Long story short, we tracked him a couple of hundred yards until blood disappeared. I looked for him 6 miles worth of walking the Sunday that I shot him and then went back up that Wednesday and looked another 7 miles with no luck, no buzzards, no buck. I was tracking my search on both my apple watch outdoor walking feature as well as on my OnX app. I never overlapped and felt comfortable in knowing that in 13 miles of grid search, if he had expired, it was far into neighbors' properties and I had no idea of how to get in touch with them. One of the major land owners to the south and west is Reba McEntire's brother's place. I looked throughout the spring and summer as well. So I told you that story to put in perspective finding Larry. You see, I was following Larry's tracks in the mud right down the Ranger road but blood was sparse. Bryan and I can spot blood droplets the size of the periods at the end of this sentence. We have always been able to do so, and easier at night with lights. I was not seeing blood as I hurriedly walked along. But there were his tracks. I rounded the corner to my left, which enters into the creek bottom and I was standing under the pecan tree where I had my stand all last year. He ran right under its branches. You see, out of this tree last year, I videoed Larry as a 97" 3 year old 8 point. He had 18 inches of mass. I found his sheds in May not 8 feet apart from each other. This pecan tree was where it all started. It was a discussion topic after we scouted the place for the first time. It was a good area, right on the edge of the creek bottom. It was only fitting that his tracks and blood splatters went over its roots and beneath its branches. I was standing there, thinking all of these things, and not noticing the 157 inch buck laying 50 yards away, in plain sight, right in the middle of my path. I searched over 13 miles for my buck last year, and I feel that God put Larry right in my path. No anxiety, no sick feeling in my gut, just pure joy and elation. I didn't walk towards him, I didn't take a step. I just stood there, and stared, and became emotional. Tears began to stream down my face, only noticeable by the heat they put off, in stark contrast with the cold drizzle that was still falling. I walked around him as much as I could, as he was laying just by the edge of the creek, where we cross in the Ranger. I didn't allow myself to look at him. I wanted Bryan to be with me when we walked up on him. It was hard to not just collapse on him, and allow my fingers to glide over every square inch of his horns.
Larry in Ranger Path
A fog had settled over the valley on the southern border of South Fork. It was something reminiscent of a dream. Driving the half mile to pick up Bryan was a dream, parking the Ranger a bit back from Larry so we could make the walk up on him together was a dream, holding his antlers for the first time, high-fiving and hugging Bryan was a dream. It was a dream that became reality. We worked ourselves to the bone, made countless trips up the Indian Nation Turnpike to stand down in that creek bottom together, that drizzly cold late October morning. Bryan and I have been doing this bowhunting thing together since we were 12 years old. That makes 31 seasons together so far. Wouldn't trade it, not a minute, not a second. The good the bad, the blood sweat and tears, the aches, the soreness, the ticks, snakes, spiders, the miles out west, down south, up north and everywhere in between. Not a single second would I trade. This year was different, it was the best. Bryan bought South Fork, we're managing it, we make the rules, and found out this year that the sky is the limit. We put 60 inches of bone on a deer through some $8.60/bag feed store deer protein. We did it also with two other bucks that were also 3 year olds last year. We will manage a booner in the next year or two, no doubts. The dream has actually just begun, and that my friends, is what it's all about…not an hour, not a minute, not a second, for this dream that became reality
Larry and Me
Larry, Me, and Bryan
Bryan at the skinning rack
Giving Thanks!
Thank you for following along! Now for that second Oklahoma buck tag...
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