Growing up, hunting was always a priority for our family. My father and grandfather were always making it a point to teach us right, instilling in us good, solid hunting morals as well as respect for the animals and the places they live. The biggest point they would hit on was family. That is what made it so special to be at hunting camp together.
My dad and granddad always talked about how great it would be to finally kill that dream buck that would score over 200" or have that 30" spread. My granddad has grown to the point where he is unable to get out in the woods on these adventures with us anymore, and when I realized this fact, I started paying more attention to my father. I can tell his days of hunting with us are numbered as well. Due to this, my brother and I have absorbed their dreams and goals and made them our own.
Growing up, we’d always hunt as a family. No matter who had the tag, we were all headed into the woods together. Like most people, we had a favorite unit we were devoted to. This was my year as I drew the tag in our unit. After conferring with my dad all summer and looking into a corner of the unit we never frequented, we had a solid game plan of areas to scout. I struck out on my own, and after setting up a small camp, I ran out to the first scouting spot. As I was walking up to my lookout rock, I kicked up two bucks. One of them was looking down across the hill at me, and he was astounding to behold. I knew he was one of those legendary deer my old man had talked about seeing. I knew this was where we would hunt.
The night before the hunt started, my dad, my brother, and my good friend showed up ready to kill a deer. On opening morning, we hiked up to that same lookout point, and after seeing a shooter buck, we quickly realized we were way out of reach to actually get down and kill him before he moved off. We collectively put it together that all the deer I had seen had moved through the same group of trees in the same spot at the same time every morning. My dad, in all his wisdom, said, “We need to sit in those trees tomorrow morning.”
The next morning, we did just that. My brother and my good friend went back to the glassing rock, while my father and I sat in the trees. As the magic hour approached, here came some deer. There were seven bucks total, and every one of them was a shooter. My old man had me set up for a shot, and I watched each buck in the crosshairs as I waited for them all to filter out. Six bucks came into view at 175 yards. When we saw the seventh one, we instantly knew he was the one. I took the shot, and it was true. My father is notorious for making game plans, and as if he had the animal under his control, exactly what he says will happen happens. Due to this, he is famous in our circle for one quote after the kill. “I love it when a plan comes together!”
I was there when my father killed his last two bucks, and I could feel the pain in his eyes as we walked up to them. I could see him coming to the realization that as he gets higher in his years, he won’t be able to do this much longer. The moment my buck hit the ground, something special happened. I will never forget when the weight of that look in his eyes slumped off like a heavy burden carried for years and was replaced with love and triumph as we embraced each other. The buck ended up scoring 244 3/8" with a 36" spread. Finally, we had our dream buck.
Arizona Deer
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