We have all heard countless stories of how elusive big, old bucks can be and how they managed to evade hunters and predators. Whether an opportunity was missed or a buck was wounded, what could make the difference? When a big buck is located and is being hunted, it’s extremely hard to predict how every scenario will play out. A few words from the best hunter and mentor I’ve ever known ring true, “Experience matters.” On this hunt, I would learn in hard fashion that such a simple phrase is profoundly true. In fact, the success of this entire hunt would ride upon the vast knowledge and experience of two of my fellow guides and friends, Chad Rhoton and Tyler Mott.
About an hour before light, Tyler hopped in the truck, and as we pulled out of the drive, Tyler mentioned he had forgotten his bow. I specifically remember Tyler mentioning that because since he forgot his bow and OTC tag, we would likely see a big buck. I assured him that would be fine because I brought my bow and tag. Our main focus in going out was to locate big bulls as we had a full camp with clients in the coming weeks. Not long into the morning, Tyler and I had separated from Chad. We were looking for bulls as I heard him say, “There are some bucks,” followed by, “Oh my gosh! That’s a giant buck.” I looked at the buck in the spotter, and Tyler graciously told me to go get him. Any bull within a mile lost our attention, and elk scouting turned into a full-blown spot-and-stalk archery deer hunt.
I managed to make my way through broken cliffrose and cedars. Finally landing myself within range from the bedded buck, I sat and waited for him to stand. Tyler stayed back, watching every move. After what seemed like an eternity, I saw the buck’s antlers begin to rock and knew he was going to stand and clear himself of the small cliffrose bush he was bedded against. I drew my bow, and he proceeded to stand up. I watched as he threw his head back and scratched himself, just as I cut the arrow loose. He must have caught my wind or movement because he made a sharp duck and turned away. My arrow hit him hard!
I knew I had made a terrible shot, hitting him in his back leg. My stomach immediately seemed to churn, and every negative thought you could imagine ran through my head. Through broken cliffrose, I never got a chance to send another arrow. After waiting for an hour or two, I walked over and found small drops of blood, which was expected. I walked back to meet Tyler in hopes to come up with a game plan or hear him say something positive. Maybe he watched him bed or fall over dead. Tyler approached me, and he was holding a hard white shed in his hand that he picked up on the way over. He explained his last observation of the buck. He then moved to a new glassing point as I proceeded to track blood and a three-footed track through the bottom of a big draw. Two hours later, I had run out of tracks and blood. I was completely defeated at this point. I had hoped to walk up on the buck bedded and silently slip another arrow in him. Every step I took at this point seemed to have a diminishing return.
I regrouped with Chad and Tyler after nearly two miles of tracking and hours of searching. I was surprised to see them, although frustrated, confident, and already putting a new plan together. I had lost all my confidence in finding the buck at this point. I took them to the last blood and track. We fanned out and gridded for about 100 yards when I heard Chad yell from up on top of the other side of the draw. He had found blood! Somehow this old buck found it in him with a severely wounded leg to get up and out of the bottom and work his way over a finger into another bottom. Soon after regaining his track, Chad found a large pool of blood where the buck had bedded.
The three of us knew the buck was hurt badly. We slowly and quietly tracked him for another half mile when we could see that his track was starting to wrap the nose of a finger. Tyler stopped us and said before we went any further, he wanted to sneak up the finger and glass a thick pocket just on the other side. His hope was that rather than bump the wounded buck, maybe we could locate him and put together a better plan to approach him. Chad and I hung back as Tyler walked up the small finger ridge.
It seemed like Tyler’s binoculars barely touched his eyes when I saw him drop to the ground and wave us up to him. I knew he had located the buck. We quietly scrambled up to Tyler and peeked over the ridgeline. Forty-five yards, under a half-dead cedar, the buck was bedded facing back at his trail, watching and waiting for us to walk around the nose of the finger so he could escape before we ever saw him. Luckily, Tyler and Chad were able to match the wit of the buck and we had him pinned.
I drew my bow and stepped up on the ridgeline, and the buck immediately stood up broadside. I released the arrow and watched it sail through his body. I knew it was a lung, or at the worst, a liver shot (fatal nonetheless). He ran another 30-40 yards and bedded again, to my surprise. I could tell the buck was close to expiring. He lay under a tree with his head flat on the ground. I quietly approached him, shielding myself with brush. I rose up again and shot him for the last time at 27 yards.
We all celebrated! A huge buck had been harvested, and what could’ve been a nightmare or sad story of “the one that got away” had turned into triumph. All said and done, mistakes happen. I don’t know a single hunter who wants to wound animals, and I definitely pride myself on being as ethical as I can when hunting. This was one of a few personal experiences having to trail a wounded animal in an entire lifetime of hunting. It made me physically sick, and it would’ve been easy to throw in the towel and walk away, making every excuse I could. Lucky for me, I had two great buddies who were willing to pick me up, and I will never forget the words Chad once spoke to me, “Experience matters.” After all, their experience is what saved the hunt.
We were able to recover the animal and all of the meat. I’m truly grateful for the experience that Tyler and Chad brought to the table as I genuinely feel I couldn’t have harvested this buck without them. To top off a good story and make it great, that hard-white shed that Tyler found turned out to be the shed from the buck I had just harvested, at least we can conclude to the best of our knowledge it is. It has some distinct features around the burr that are consistent from one horn to the other. I also had picked up an old horseshoe mid-stalk, which for the superstitious, is a good omen. Both are saved at my house and will be displayed with the pedestal mount. Another incredible hunt to put in the memory bank and I hope others can learn from the story.
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