After passing up a buck on opening day and a few more unsuccessful stalks on days one, two, and three, day four came with flashflood warnings and high winds. With a break in the storm, Shawn and I headed out to a vantage point two miles from the road. We came face to face with a young buck. After scanning the surrounding area for more deer, we decided to ease out and not disturb him. We moved a few feet and the unmistakable sound of multiple deer blowing out echoed through the small canyon. These bucks stopped at the top of the ridge, and we saw that they were a mid 160" 4-point and a 28" wide, short-tined 3-point. With heavy rain and lightning cracking down too close for comfort, we made our way back to the truck.
After changing into some dry clothes, we had just enough daylight for an evening hunt. With light fading, we relocated those same deer. I grabbed my bow and ran to close the 1,300- yard gap. I got to the top of the ridge and had the 4-point within bow range. Unfortunately, buck fever got the best of me and I rushed the shot. I lost my arrow in flight, and the only sound I heard was deer blowing out in every direction. The buck I had shot at didn’t appear to be hit, but not finding my arrow made me uneasy. The next morning was spent tracking and searching for blood. With no sign of a hit, I accepted a clean miss.
A few days later, Tom Hooper called and said he had a good buck in a killable spot. I rushed home from work, grabbed my gear, and broke a few speed limits making my way out to him. With the help of Shawn and Tom’s brother, Dylan, Tom talked me in close to a mid 150 class buck. At 65 yards, the buck was as good as dead, or so I thought. I squeezed through my release. Unfortunately, he jumped the string and had spun completely around before my arrow was anywhere near him. I recovered my arrow and made the walk of shame back to the guys with one less sharp broadhead.
Friday after work, we headed out and set up camp for the holiday weekend. An hour into the morning’s hunt, my dad’s voice came through the radio, “I’ve got two good bucks.” I grabbed my gear and headed his way. We watched in awe until the bucks bedded. I got a little too aggressive in the first attempt and bumped them.
There wasn’t a deer in sight for the first three hours of the next day. Right as my doubts started to set in, the two big bucks and a few others emerged from a thick cut. They were headed straight to a dead tree, so I knelt down and waited for them to come to me. I was determined to shoot the biggest buck, but he bedded out of sight. After a couple hours, he was up. I snuck past deer still in their beds and had the trashy 200" buck we had named “Destiny” broadside at 73 yards. Destiny walked closer, and I ranged a small bush at 28 yards. I squeezed through my release and sadly watched my arrow launch way over his back. I turned my radio off and sat in complete disbelief of my mistake.
On my way back to town, I ran into my buddy, Jeffery Row, who said he had been tipped off about two big bucks. After perfectly describing the two big bucks I had been hunting, I knew where he was going.
Shawn and I both took the next day off for one last desperate attempt. I knew Jeffery was keyed in on the same deer I had been hunting, so I called him up to see if we were going to be competing against each other. We decided to hunt together.
The next morning, Shawn spotted one of the big bucks. An hour into the stalk, I had the big 4x5 at 50 yards. I stepped out, put my 50-yard pin on the middle of his chest, and touched off the shot. Thwack! My arrow buried into the buck a little right of center. The buck limped across a small valley and disappeared into a small drainage. After I began following blood, Jeff let me know he had watched the buck go through a small opening, heading north. Jeff hiked to a hill west of the buck, I went to the east, and Shawn stayed put. It didn’t take long for Jeff to relocate the buck in thick cover. Moving inch by inch, I finally caught the flicker of his tail. After moving a short distance, I had a clear, broadside shot. I hit my mark and double lunged him.
As Jeff and I walked up to my buck, I was overwhelmed with emotion. The entire season was a roller coaster of highs and lows, but none of it compared to this day of finally pulling my tag out of my pocket. I can’t thank Shawn and Jeff enough. We all earned this buck. Thank you Dad, Tom, and Dylan Hooper for all of your help as well as the knowledge and passion I have for hunting.
Arizona Deer Hunting
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