Buck Fever Running Wild

Buck Fever Running Wild

I knew we had some monster bucks on our 94 acre farm. Trying to get them to cooperate was going to be the deal. We put up a game camera on the east side of the property. It was there that I got my first look. And buck fever took over. Again.

It was a crisp November morning in 1989. The leaves crunched beneath my feet as I headed out from camp towards my stand. I tried to be quiet, but it being my first hunt, I felt like the whole world could hear my heart beating. My stand was about a quarter-mile from camp, but on that opening morning it felt like it took me forever to get there. It sat right off the main road and that made it easy to get to. As I climbed up the ladder, my mind began to race. Would I see a deer, let alone shoot one? Uncle Bruce had told me to be quiet and take my time. I sure wasn't quiet as I settled into my stand as the sun began to peek over the horizon. I started the fire in my camp stove to stay warm and waited. About an hour later, I heard a rustle to my left. About 50 yards away was a buck on the move. It took my 16-year old brain a second to figure out what I was looking at. It seemed huge and all I knew was at that moment, it had horns. I slowly raised my rifle and through my scope, I found my target. My heart was beating out of my chest as I watched him walk right into my shot. Bruce had coached me up on where to shoot the deer. Aim right behind his front leg into his torso to give you the biggest target. Don't aim for the head. I closed my left eye, exhaled slowly and gently squeezed the trigger. Boom! One shot. I had no idea if he was down or not. In the craziness, I had flinched and closed both eyes preparing for the boom. I opened both eyes and looked out. He was down. I kept my sights on him waiting for any movement but there was none. After about five minutes, I climbed down and went to investigate. My heart was still beating about 200 miles an hour as I closed in. He was a beautiful 8-pointer. My one shot pierced him right behind his right ear. Right where Bruce told me NOT to shoot. With my head spinning, I left my prize and headed down the trail to my Aunt Irene's stand to let her know about my kill. I don't think my feet hit the ground and when I got there, I shared my news. We had a shot signal to let the rest of our party know we had one down. Four shots for a buck, three shots for a doe. Irene fired off four shots. It was official. On my first hunt, on opening morning, I had my deer. Bruce would later share that he was surprised anything within a five mile radius would come near me because I was so loud. I don't doubt that, but what I do know is that was a coming of age moment for me. My Grandpa couldn't have been more proud. He wasn't able to bring my on my first hunt, but Uncle Bruce did.

I grew up that weekend.

It has been 30 years since I've last sat in a stand. Just like that wide-eyed boy who went on his first hunt in '89, I'm excited to climb into the stand once again on a crisp November morning.