This past Monday was the opening day of deer season. Like all seasons before it, I was excited like a little kid on Christmas Eve. Here’s how the play-by-play went down.
4:50am – up and getting ready to be picked up by my dad
5:10am – father arrives and we load up
5:20am – we’re on the road and can’t wait to get into the woods
6:05am – we arrive and wait for the twilight to get dressed and head out into the woods
6:40am – in stand and getting ready for a fun day
7:00am – first deer spotted — a small doe
8:40am – buck comes running down from my father’s hill — stops running and trots towards we — make a 90 degree angle towards me and stop right behind a tree. I put my scope up to him and look for a shot — all I can see is his head, from right shoulder, and neck. Suddenly, the buck looks directly into my scope and straight at me. I now know that it’s time to take the shot or let him run away. I make a quick decision and take the shot. The shot goes at an angle directly through the shoulder and through the heart of the ‘kill zone’, rupturing his windpipe, heart, and both lungs. He runs about 10 yards and collapses. He is dead on impact.
I got out of my stand and headed down to the kill. The entire time I am gathering my gear from the stand my left leg would not stop shaking from the adrenaline in my system. Once all my gear is gathered and stowed, I get down my my stand and walk to my kill.
When I arrive I am greeted by something quite pleasant — a larger deer then what I thought it was. Since I never got a clear picture of the entire deer (save for a look at half of his rack) this was a very pleasant surprise.
Here is what I laid my eyes upon when I arrived.
Yes, he was quite a large buck. Here is a closeup of his nice 7 point rack.
After field dressing him I gathered my gear one last time and walked back to the truck. Once I was out of the woods, I saw my dad in a clearing by some apple trees. He had gotten a nice 8 point buck after I had shot mine. He was just about done dressing his out so I waited for him. We walked back to the truck, ate some sandwiches, and traded out stories about our kills.
About 2 hours later, we headed out into the woods to collect our game. Since I had already saw my dad’s buck, I knew what to expect. He did not know what to expect from mine. When we arrived, he was shocked at the size of my deer. The rack was quite large, and the body was very respectable. We loaded the deer up, and made our way home.
On the way home, I was thinking about the size of my buck’s rack. My dad’s very first kill from the 1970s is mounted and has been hanging in his living room since then. Not only does it have the distinction of being his first kill, but also the largest rack to ever some off of our property. This is a record that has not only stood for over 30 years, but has not been closely matched since. I didn’t want to sound arrogant, but I thought my rack may give his a little competition. It wasn’t until we were almost home that I mentioned that I think my rack may be bigger then his. He smiled and said it might be close. We agreed to measure both racks when we got back to the house.
Arriving at his house, we pulled the deer off of the trailer and put away the quad. While the deer were off the trailer I told him this would be a good time to measure the racks. He smiled again, and I assumed this was because he thought that he would still hold onto the trophy buck. We took measurement of my rack and proceeded inside. He took his mount from the wall and threw up the tape. My buck had a full 2 inches larger spread then his. Not only was it wider, but it was taller as well. After 30 odd years, there was a new King Buck in town! I think he was happy that it was his own son that beat his record and not someone else that was invited down to hunt. I think it was fitting that way.
Here is a picture of the largest rack ever taken from out farm.
It was not only a good day to be in the woods, but it was a good day to be a Shafer.
