Oregon State Record Archery Buck

As I leveled my pin on the sweet spot, I only had one thought, “Do not punch your trigger again.” I had missed this same big buck twelve days earlier this season. My season, like most hunters, started with a lot of hope. This just felt like it was my year. I had put in as much work before the season as I could. This included losing sixty pounds, running five miles a day five days a week, daily practice with my bow, and lots of time going through every possible hunting setup I could think of, so when the time came, I would know exactly what to do. This year was going to be a little different for me. I had told my buddy Mike that if he went with me this year on opening weekend that he would see some nice bucks, and the rest would be up to him. He should have a chance to harvest one. As dawn broke on opening morning, Mike, another hunting buddy, Nate, and I were in my best spot right where we needed to be. Nate would hunt low, Mike would hunt the middle of the ridge, and I would hunt the high side of the bowl. The plan was that I would come around the top and drop off, pushing anything that was up high down to Nate or Mike. Within fifteen minutes of sunrise, I had two deer working my way, and, as I raised my binos, I could see that it was two forked horns. They were feeding toward me, so I hung tight and, ten minutes later, they were about twenty yards out. I watched them for a few minutes, and as soon as they got behind me, I continued on with my hunt. The rest of the day was like a bad dream as it was filled with the pain of a long hike and not seeing any other deer in my best area. This was unusual because there are typically thirty-plus deer in this area and at least three to six good bucks in the 150-class. We moved on for the afternoon hunt and still did not see anything good. We saw six more deer; two of them were three-points, but it was not what we were used to seeing. So, I had promised a good friend a chance at a nice buck, and it didn’t happen. Mike had to go home Saturday night, so Sunday morning, it was Nate and I. I was baffled as to where the big bucks had gone as they were always in my spot. To say I was disappointed would have been an understatement. I had worked hard and really thought it was going to be the year. That afternoon we decided to scout a new area. We knew the animals did not just get up and leave and that they had to be around somewhere. Not ten minutes into the new area, we saw a group of five big bucks. The smallest was 140, and the biggest was in the mid-160 class. They busted us before we got in the red zone, and we never had a chance at a shot. It wasn’t five minutes later when Nate spotted a nice 4×4. We made a plan, and Nate took off. I sat back and watched Nate, but I had lost sight of his buck. Nate put in a great stalk but came up to the side of the buck and not behind him. He got close, but not close enough. As the buck bounced off, it was another one of those “what if” moments that eat you alive. The good part of all of this was that we had found another good area and would definitely be back. With a good night’s sleep, Monday morning had a new sense of hope as we had finally gotten into the animals. We started the morning hunting the honey hole, and it was not too long before I spotted something that looked out of place. As I raised my binos, all I could see was horns – I didn’t even bother to count, I knew this one was huge. I nocked an arrow and started to draw back as there was no way to get any closer. I started to level my pins, and then my memory goes blank, I don’t remember what happened, but the next memory I have is the word, “No!” I had just released my arrow, and I was not even close to having the right pin on the vitals. The arrow flew harmlessly twenty yards in front of the buck. As we watched him run off, three other deer exploded out of the area. It was then that Nate said, “That is the biggest deer I have ever seen,” and he was right. I did not want to hear it, but it was true. I had never even seen a buck that big, and he made the other deer look like dogs. I glassed him as he ran and noticed a kicker off each side of his rack. My heart and spirit were broken. A friend of mine told me before I started bowhunting that it is an emotional roller coaster. I cannot think of anything else where you can go from low to high and back to low all in fifteen seconds. But that is what we all love, isn’t it? The rest of the day was a blur. We packed up camp and went home. I would not hunt again until the eighth of September. That is when I was scheduled to take a week off of work. Another one of my good friends, as well as Mike’s brother, Dave, would be joining us for the hunt. Mike and I picked Dave up on Friday night and then loaded up and headed out for camp the next day. That afternoon we decided to go look at the main area where we had decided to hunt the next day. As we made our way to the area, we were all talking about elk hunting – in our minds, and the deer hunt was pretty much over. However, I did decide to show Dave the area where the big buck I had missed had been. As we moved through the area, we started seeing some deer. There was a group of does that we glassed, but we did not see any bucks. We moved a little farther, and there was another group; but again, no bucks that we could see. We moved a couple of feet, and something looked odd. I could see a buck mixed in with the does, but he looked to be double their size – it had to be a buck! We were close, so I used my rangefinder, and my heart just about stopped. There he was, the big buck I had accidentally released my arrow on twelve days earlier. This time I did not look at his antlers – I just knew it was him. We were uphill from the buck, and he was quartering away from me. As I drew my bow back and leveled my pin on his sweet spot, I just kept thinking, “Do not punch your trigger.” When I let it fly, it looked good, and, as I saw him spin to take off, I heard Dave say, “Perfect shot.” I could see my arrow sticking out of his side. The buck did not run; he walked about thirty yards and went down. I could not believe how lucky I had been—what a year. I still did not know exactly how big the buck was, and the twenty-minute wait was the longest I can remember. Finally, we could not take it anymore and had to go see him. Since we saw him go down, we were not too worried about him being wounded. When we got up to the buck, I could not believe the size of him. Everything about him was big – not just the rack, but even his body was huge. This is the largest deer I have ever seen to date both in body and rack size. He was estimated to be six years old and have a live weight of 320 pounds. The official score is 231 1/8 gross and 225 3/8 net, a new Oregon state, velvet, non-typical mule deer record. As a side note, I have been fortunate to harvest three animals this year. Four days after I harvested this buck, I was able to harvest a bull elk thanks to Dave’s calling. Then, in late October, I went hunting whitetail deer with Dave in Georgia, and it was three arrows and three deer down. I guess for once that feeling of this being my year came true, I do not think I could ask for more…although I do have one more deer tag, we will see what happens!