Alberta's Archery Monster

As I approached the site, I knew it was going to be a tough one. I climbed the steps, attached my safety belt, popped the stand in, and realized that Doug had definitely run out of time, as I was going to have to do some serious trimming. Even at the risk of ruining the hunt, I had to trim because if an opportunity presented itself, the way things were, I probably wouldn’t be able to shoot. I trimmed as much as I could quietly with my shears, but a couple of branches needed the saw. In a matter of minutes I was done.

I took a minute to relax and look at the sign. It was obvious why Doug had placed the stand here with three distinct heavy trails to the east running north-south in the narrow slough bottom adjacent to the south tip of the willows that I was in. An open barely field was situated to the west, a plowed field to the east, bedding areas to the north and south, and the thin willow transition zone where I sat. I now found myself in the position many of my hunters complain about: great spot but lousy tree. This wasn’t going to be easy. My stand was placed at a height of 12 feet in a tree with a diameter of four to five inches where it attached. It was safe enough, but when I moved, it moved. There was no other option because the only other tree was slightly less in diameter and was holding my bow two feel to the southwest. To make matters worse, my feet stuck out at the highest point of the willows so I was sky-lined. No doubt, this was a tough one.

I began studying the trails and shooting lanes to determine what I could get away with if an opportunity presented itself. I had shooting lanes in three directions: in the field to the west, in a small shooting lane to the south, and into the slough bottom to the southeast and east. One thing I knew was that my feet were going to have to be planted and I couldn’t make any moves once I was committed.

As the afternoon did its transition into dusk, I gained a little more confidence in being effective as the sharp light faded and prime time approached. My efforts were concentrated to the south, the direction I was facing, as there was a major bedding area 300 yards south-southeast of me. The first deer I sighted was a doe entering the field 500 yards straight south of me from the west edge of the bedding area, working her way northwest. A few minutes later looked to the northeast and spotted another deer at 150 yards, which looked like a buck at a glance but turned out to be another doe. Then, looking to the northwest, I spotted I spotted two more deer which included an immature buck interested in nothing but feeding. We were obviously in the zone with deer in all directions. The good news was that the wind held steady east-southeast, taking my scent across the plowed field, which was perfect.

As often happens with whitetail hunting, another deer appeared which I should have clearly spotted earlier, but for some reason I missed it. I was a 130-class buck, which ranged 80 – 150 yards south and west o f me. This buck, on the other hand, had no interest but to look for foes and company. He was definitely susceptible to calling, but for some reason he was of no interest to me. Although certainly a respectable deer, he did not spark my interest probably because of the quality of the bucks that Dough had spoken of. Also, little did I know at the time, Doug had placed my stand within 10 yards of where he had seen the big typicals on Saturday evening.

Evening started to draw near, and although I had seen some deer, I was starting to get that desperate feeling of knowing that I was going to have to do something to make an opportunity present itself as I was running out of time. I glassed in every direction I could see to make sure nothing was coming, and also to ensure that the 130-class buck was clear of me so I wouldn’t spook him or call him in only to create problems for myself.

I gently used my grunt call to introduce myself in the event that there were deer close by, then waited a couple minutes. I then slipped my antlers from my pack and gently touched the tines. I waited a couple of seconds, touched them again with a little more aggression, waited, clashed them more loudly, waited, the cracked the beams. My plan was to introduce myself quietly, then make myself heard to any deer within about 500 yards. This was going to be it.

I hung the antlers on a hook in case I needed them again, but knew my time was running short. I waited a couple minutes, staying as alert as possible, then heard something. I couldn’t tell what or where, but I could hear something. As I strained to listen more closely, still no bow in hand, I could hear the distinct steps of a deer approaching from the southwest. I lifted my glasses up slowly and made out the deer as he quartered towards me. He was a big typical. At a glance I wasn’t’ sure how big, but I knew he was at least a 160-class buck. I knew he was coming to the antlers he had heard, and it was time to concentrate on executing.

When guiding, we always talk about two things: crating the opportunity and executing the opportunity. I knew it was my time to execute, and it wasn’t going to be easy. I slipped my bow from the hanger, clipped my release on, and planted my feet so I could shoot from west to south to east. I was committed because I knew in a few seconds there would be no moving. The problem was that the buck was approaching directly behind the other tree to the southwest, and I needed to commit to one side of the tree or the other. I held the bow tight to my chest and waited for him to commit, keeping the broadhead clear of the other tree. He headed for the south shooting lane at a distance I estimated to be about 28 yards. As he headed for the thin shooting lane directly south of me, I slowly extended my bow arm and was in the ready-to-draw position. I planned on using the noise of his steps to cover the noise of the drawing, but realized just as I started drawing that he was much quieter than he should be with the warm weather and the fact that some manure had been spread on the field. I decided to wait. My new plan was to let him enter the tall slough grass, then make the draw with the noise of the grass. As soon as he entered, I drew. Once I was at draw I was relieved, but my problems were far from over. As he walked away through the slough grass, taking the few steps to the lane, I realized that the grass was higher than I had expected and seeing the deer was easy, but seeing his vitals was the problem. My plan was to grunt using my voice when he hit the lane to stop him to produce the shot, but all I could do was let him walk across the lane since I had no ethical shot. This was the painful part.

As he crossed the shooting lane he continued eastward, and I immediately got that feeling that I think all whitetail bowhunters get when you don’t capitalize on an opportunity. I thought that was probably the end, but the game was still on. My immediate instinct was to come off draw and use my grunt call, but I knew that things were probably just too critical noise-wise, and with the lack of cover of this stand, I was clearly sky-lined. I held my draw and hoped. As luck or the determination of this buck would have it, he turned north and started heading for my southeast and east shooting lanes in search of the bucks he had heard. The wind held ease-southeast so he wasn’t going to get far before he scented me. As he walked north, I estimated the distance to be 30 to 35 yards based on the ranging I had done earlier. When he hit an open area in the slough grass where I could clearly see him, I grunted with my voice, but he didn’t hear me. Then he was back in the tall grass, continuing northward. This was getting painful. I had been at full draw for about 30 seconds and the end was nearing quickly. My strength was fin, but my scent would soon expose me. I glanced ahead of the buck a couple of steps and noticed a small opening in the slough grass, which I knew would have to suffice. Still following him, the second he hit that opening I grunted loudly, much more loudly than normal, but it worked. He locked up. I couldn’t tell if he was locked on my sno-camo skyline or on the base of the tree in the direction the grunt had come from, but either way he was locked up.
My full concentration was on executing the shot. I began to hold a little too high, then I settled lower behind his shoulder and started to squeeze. I clearly remember the wait, then the arrow release. I listened intensely, since I couldn’t see the arrow, and heard the sound of what I thought was a good hit. The thing I was concerned about was the sound of frozen slough grass, which can also sound like a good hit.