Sooner or later something good had to happen. I’m not one to give up easy, and although this lease I have in Illinois has been anything but productive, I was confident that by hunting it methodically, sooner or later I’d have something good show up once the rut broke things open.
Saturday November 11th was that day, and I was in the right place. One week earlier I’d poked around in a new area that just screamed travel corridor. It was a sidehill just off a CRP field. To the east was a buck bedding area, and the sidehill and CRP had does bedding in them. I had to go home that day so it would be a week before I could return to hunt it.
This past week back at work was mostly windy, rainy, and warm down in Illinois. The weekend was finally calling for a cold snap. I felt an all day sit in that new spot was in order. If a cold snap one and a half weeks into November didn’t get some bucks on their feet on this property, nothing would and I’d soon be hunting elsewhere.
About an hour after sunup, my first deer showed up as a yearling 7 pointer made his way by me at 15 yards. It was quite windy, with windchills in the mid-20’s. Staying warm was a challenge, but it’s always easier when deer are present.
An hour later a 2.5 year old 8 point snuck past at 30 yards. Still no shooters but action at least. At 9:30 a decent 8 point that I have about a dozen trail camera photos of came through about 60 yards uphill from me. From the photos he looked to be a 2.5 year old but seeing him in person changed my mind to 3.5 as he was noticeably heavier than I thought. Still he wasn’t a shooter to me. Right after the 3.5 year old went past, another yearling buck went by.
At 10am a doe stepped out from this small woodlot in front of me. She browsed a bit and then re-entered that woodlot, I presumed to bed.
The steady action continued for the better when at 11:30 I just happened to turn around and look behind me. I immediately noticed a deer’s body at 40 yards through the thick brush. As he turned his head, my jaw dropped. I’d just got done telling myself how unconfident I was in midday big buck movement on this property, maybe in someway hoping to jinx myself in a good way. There stood a bruiser of a buck…160+ class. He scurried around that bottom for a few minutes, seemingly on edge. Suddenly he busted out of there (in the wrong direction) and I was stumped. Twenty seconds later, however, my questions were answered as a coyote trotted up that very bottom. The big boy was gone.
I spent the next 2 hours huddled up trying to stay warm in the wind and cold. You see your body go through many phases in an all day sit and mine was now in the “cold but not getting any colder so just suck it up” phase.
At 1:30 I filmed that doe walk out of her bedding area and wander down the heavy trail just to my west 8 yards. Two hours later a buck appeared, intent on finding her.
At first I heard some crunching in the leaves coming from that woodlot. Then I made out a throat patch and antlers as a buck worked a licking branch. As my binocs focused in on him I immediately recognized him as the freaky, 3-beamed non-typical I’d recently gotten a couple trail camera photos of. I knew he was a mature deer from the photos and slapped a wanted label on him that read “shooter”. I reached for my bow and readied my video cameras.
The buck stepped out of the small woodlot at 30 yards, behind a wall of branches. He immediately turned left and headed right towards me. The steep ravine in front of me meant he was either going to break left or right and offer a shot in one of my lanes. He chose left where the doe had gone just two hours prior.
He had a brisk pace to him, apparently knowing he had some ground to make up to catch that doe. I had only a foot wide opening at 8 yards that I’d shoot him through if I could stop him. The camera arm-mounted GL-2 would have to take a backseat to the hat cam on my head as I didn’t have time to swing it over. I came to full draw when he was about ten feet and closing from that opening. As he stepped in I gave out a rather loud “Muuaaaa” or however you spell grunt. I immediately had the pin high on his chest and touched my release. The arrow disappeared on its mark.
The buck bolted away through the thick cover just west of the stand but soon materialized just uphill from me in the opening about 60 yards away. I thought he’d drop any second but soon became a bit discouraged as he just stood there. I knew I must’ve caught him back a bit farther on the chest than I thought as the shoulder was back at the shot.
Five minutes passed and he finally just disappeared from sight behind some thick brush. He looked hurt. His head hung low and he had a slight hunch to him. I though gut-shot at worst, but probably one lung and liver.
I gave it one hour and climbed down to sneak out of there. Grabbing my arrow on the way, I saw it was covered in red blood…no guts…good, I thought. Nevertheless, I would give him time to die. Four to five hours at least with a liver hit but I felt uneasy about an overnight wait due to the abundance of coyotes in the area.
After a restless few hours, I was outside making a phone call when I already heard coyotes in the distance. The tracking needed to start. It was 7:30pm when we arrived on the scene, four hours after the shot. A heavy frost was already forming on the ground.
I immediately picked up a good blood trail, not bright red, not dark. Over the next hour I slowly and methodically covered the steady blood trail as my landowner friend, Dan, filmed. I’d occasionally lose the blood as the deer trails branched off. Circling back after each bloodless trail soon got me back on the right path. Overall, it was an easy trail to follow. The blood I was finding was already frosting over, indicating to me I wasn’t pushing this buck so I felt confident continuing. About 300 yards into the trail I found my buck dead as a stone. It had been a one lung/liver hit due to that shoulder being back on the shot, but very fatal nonetheless.
After a long but steady blood trail, I’d found the old non-typical.
Not pushing this animal kept him walking and not running, leaving me an easy to follow, steady blood trail.
I’d originally thought this buck was at least a three year old. Upon closer examination I could tell this buck was quite old and past his prime. His spine was boney, his hooves were rounded and worn. His teeth were ground very low and his hair was quite coarse and gray. this old guy had long since seen his day and I’d finally seen mine in Illinois this bow season.