This dang southwest wind is ruining my hunt, I thought to myself. It was the last day of a long anticipated hunt to the grain fields of the fabled Midwestern US for the HUGE whitetails that were nurtured by the same fertile soils that put beans and corn and other such fare on the tables of America. I was hoping to add a little venison to that menu. It would be one thing if it would just stay out of the southwest, but instead it seemed to shift every minute to every angle of the compass. Every scent-wary creature within a half-mile was surely aware of my presence. At 5:30 in the morning I half considered not even getting into my stand…Not.

As I methodically made my way into my perch some 12-15 feet overhead, I considered the events of the last few days. My friend Dave, whom I met on a bow hunt to Mexico the previous year, had graciously invited my brother, Brent, and me to come sample some of the hunting country in his neck of the woods. We spent quite a bit of time agonizing over the decision, should we go to pursue some of the biggest-bodied, largest-racked whitetails in the world? After about five seconds of deliberating our decision, we accepted the invitation, pending a successful lottery draw for archery tags, far from a sure thing.

The first morning of “truck scouting” had produced 140-class and 150-class whitetails chasing a doe just off the edge of a desolate country road. I was impressed. Later we saw a 120-class buck engaged in similar activities. We decided against much invasive scouting this close to our actual hunting, since the lack of abundant cover in the region made the deer especially prone to relocate if pressured by human intrusion.

After placing stands we retreated back to Dave’s camp to let the area rest for a while and discuss strategy. After eating and organizing our gear (and I use that term very loosely), we prepared for an evening hunt. The first evening on stand produced a 130-140 class 10 point that passed by at 40 yards, just out of bow range. Just out of sight, I heard some of the loudest grunting that I had ever heard before. This big boy must’ve been quite impressive judging from the volume and the depth of tone of his vocalizations.

I had two stands to chose from, both of them funnel setups that were designed to catch deer moving from food to bedding and vice versa. One of the stands was considerably more densely forested than the other. The first stand I began calling the 520 stand as a cow bearing that number strode by on the next morning hunt. The other stand we simply called the funnel stand.

The next day I hunted 520 with numerous buck sightings. Most exciting was the fact that two of the bucks had their entire right beam broken off just above the skull. I can only assume that the big boy from the previous evening had relieved of them of said head gear in a show of force to keep the subordinate bucks from stealing “his” does.

That evening I decided to try out the funnel stand. The setup was a good one. A large hill to the southeast of the stand funneled the deer through a creek and into an adjoining woodlot between two pastures. That first evening on stand I saw a doe running in the field heading my way, just behind her was a 115-class 8-point in hot pursuit. She worked a scrape just to the left of my stand and then passed right behind me. I thought the jig was up when she smelled me and rudely snorted and made for parts unknown. The 8 waited at the field’s edge and then pursued the doe, against his better judgment, right past my stand. I drew my bow as he passed, tempted to shoot, but thinking better of it at the last moment. He played around my stand for 5-10 minutes before moving on.

The most important discovery of the evening, however, was the fact that a group of trees in the corner of one of the fields was used by all of the local deer as a sort of common gathering location. Several scrapes were in the area as well as rubs and branches upon which the bucks would rub their antlers as well as the pre-orbital glands. Virtually every deer I was to see over the next few days from this stand were to make this point of trees a focus of their travels through the area.

The next few times I hunted the stand I saw 4 different bucks scoring between 140 and 170 B&C points. Many other bucks as well as does were seen in the same general area. Based on the demeanor of the deer and the time of year, the full-blown rut was very near. I knew that this place was ready to explode with deer activity.

Enter the aforementioned southwest wind. The wind really limited the possibilities of the stand and had already cost me opportunities at several bucks. With nothing to lose I climbed into my stand on this last morning determined to make the best of the situation.

Right at legal shooting light I decided that I would need to be aggressive to make the situation work. The only way I was going to be able to connect with a buck under these circumstances was going to be to call the bucks quickly to my location and catch them off guard before they were the wiser to a predator in their presence.

I began a tending grunt series on my grunt call. I had barely squeezed the call back into my pocket when I heard footsteps behind me. I quietly stood in my stand and turned to face the biggest whitetail that I had ever seen. About 40 yards behind me, and full of wrath, was a world-class 8-point that would score at least 160 P&Y. He began shredding trees with his impressive headgear and pawing the ground like a fighting bull. His nostrils flared and his steely eyes glared, he was ready for a fight! What he didn’t know was that I was ready to match his aggression with a single well placed arrow! I readied myself for a shot and he headed right to my stand. He came to within ten yards and glared into the pasture before him. As he slowly scanned the field, his anger gave way to confusion. Where was this lesser buck that needed a reality check from the boss? If there were ever a deer created by God to strike fear into the heart of another buck, this was it. He had to have weighed at least 300 pounds and his antlers looked to be 6 inches in circumference and his G2 tines must have been 14 inches long. And here he was at the base of my tree protected from his own demise by a few pencil-sized twigs similar to the ones he was raking down with vengeance from the overhead branches as he awaited a challenger. As confusion turned to bewilderment I could see the buck’s countenance change and he hunched his shoulders forward as if to say, “Huh, I could of sworn I heard a buck chasing one of my does, Oh well…”. As I began to grasp the reality of what was happening, I searched desperately for an opening in the cover that would allow a shot. I knew it was now or never; the buck of a lifetime was about to stroll out of my life.

NO!!! Now he was turning to go. I frantically searched in desperation for a way, any way, to deliver an arrow into the vitals of this massive beast. He started moving away slowly. AHA! There it is… the chink in the armor, the heel of Achilles. He was going to pass through a very small opening that just might provide an opportunity to put the big boy down. But it was just not to be. He did stop for a few seconds in the spot that I had chosen in desperation. And in all honesty, I could have probably made a successful harvest, but it was not a shot that I could feel good about, and I sadly tipped my hat and bid him well. The funny thing is that I will remember this encounter for a lifetime and he has yet to realize that we’d met. But I know in my heart of hearts how close he came to having a deer tag announce his own unlikely mortality.

On the way back to camp my brother asked me if I regretted not taking a shot. I had several hours to contemplate that as I sat on stand that morning. I must say that I do not regret passing on that shot. He was simply too majestic of an animal to have second thoughts about if something went awry. Yes, I would have loved to have harvested this fine animal, but I have no regrets about the way things turned out.

Thank you, Dave, for being a gracious host and guide. Thank you; Lord, for allowing me to be a participant in your magnificent creation!

Bruce Bernard
Katy, TX

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