On the first evening, I sat up my climber. I had to do a little trimming to get it in ,but pressed myself to get up the tree with my bow. I was able to get high up in a white oak. I was adjacent a large hay field and sitting near a funnel. There were buck rubs all in the little wood lot and I felt good of my chances. About dark, things got interesting. 3 racked bucks and 3 young bucks were in the field. The younger bucks were running around grunting and carrying on . I hadn't trimmed as I should have and was only able to get a glimpse of a very large 8 point. I watched the big buck walk off to the other side of the field and sat there till after dark waiting for all of the deer to leave.
I hunted and hunted that stand! I actually hunted it out. I was pretty good about only trying to sit it in a favorable wind, but I sat there alot waiting on that buck. I was seeing nothing. I had sat there for a couple of weeks and not seen a deer. From all the hunting, I was beat and gave up on the stand.
It was a week before muzzleloader and I knew that once rifle started the buck would be dead. I got the idea of putting in a corn pile near the climber. I put the corn pile (baiting is legal in NC) right on the edge of the field and left it alone for a few days. The corn was getting torn up. They went through a bag of corn in only a few days.
It was now muzzleloader season and I was ready to kill a buck. I got my smoke pole out and went to the bow stand. I climbed up the old white oak and got ready for my afternoon hunt. It was a nice fall day in NC and there was a breeze. I can remember thinking of my fathers upcoming surgery to remove a tumor from his brain. I do allot of talking and praying to God when I hunt. This of course was a hard and scary time for me, so I was doing allot of it. But back to the hunt.
A doe and two yearlings came out first. I watched them eat on the corn. The doe looked up at me and I believe caught a touch of movement. She didn't care for me and decided to move her and the little ones on their way.
I was thinking my hunt was over at this time. But only about 20 minutes later, a deer came back to the pile. This time however it was a buck. I looked at the rack and thought him to be 3.5 years old, and slowly eased up my gun. The buck made to the pile and slowly began to eat. I can still see the Buck's face and body language as he sort of gave me the impression that all was not right. It was however too late! The inline muzzleloader pounded the buck. He tore off down the woodline and went deep into the woods.
I took my time and sat in the tree for a little. I decided to get down and check for blood. It was all over the place and the blood trail was easy to follow. I quickly found the 7 point at the bottom of the hill and went to my trusty 4 wheeler to go get the buck. I pulled the heavy buck to the top of the hill through the briars and brush. I then struggled and struggled to load the big buck onto the 4 wheeler.
On the ride home, I can remember showing the land owner the buck and feeling pride. Thoughts in my head still went to my father. We were to leave the next day for Bama and my father's operation. I had killed the beast, but it was more of a way to keep my mind off of other things. This hunt is a sweet memory to me. The buck is mounted and sits in my office as a reminder of that day and the times I enjoyed hunting this buck. He was not the big one I believe but he was a nice buck that lives on my memories.
Long Live the Hunt!
