Buck That Got The Point

After years of overpaying for under producing deer leases I purchased a 350 acre ranch in southern Oklahoma just an hour from my house in Texas. I had been searching all over north Texas and southern Oklahoma for a couple of years when I accidently stumbled onto this property. The owner was marketing it as having Trophy whitetails and since I was not going to farm or utilize the land for anything other than hunting, this was all I needed to hear. I still wanted proof before I could blow my kids inheritance on some useless dirt in another state. I would call the realtor every week or two and tell her I was going to go look around again and make sure that I really wanted to buy this place when actually I was running a few game cameras in search of these Trophy deer. For over a month this produced nothing but does, small bucks and hogs by the hundreds. I finally got pictures of a big 13 point buck in velvet and decided to buy the property based on a picture of this one deer. By the time I closed the deal (delayed several months due to issues with The Dancing Rabbit Treaty of 1869 which is another story in itself), it was early September with opening day of bow season just around the corner. I continued to get pictures of the buck during this time and it appeared he lived on the eastern side of the property and was using a dry creek bed to travel. With limited time to scout, I decided to hang a stand in a huge Pecan tree on the edge of the creek bed. The plan was to hunt a few times and see where the deer moved and then relocate this temporary stand to a better spot. I soon found out that things don't always go as planned.

I could not make the morning hunt of opening day but I was in the stand by 6:00 that evening, giving me a good 2 hours of tree time. It was hot and windy with temps in the mid 80s and a 20 mph south wind neither of which was ideal conditions for my first hunt on my new property. My best guesstimates predicted that the deer and the big buck would be on the south side of the creek which was now directly downwind. I thought about getting down and trying to find a bush to hide in on the north side of the small clearing but that thought quickly passed. I was happy to finally be hunting, but I had little hope of actually sticking a thorn in a big buck that day. Having never spent any time in this new stand, I was busy installing a bow holder and other comforts needed to live in a tree for hours on end when I heard something in the leaves. I had only been in the stand 45 minutes when I saw deer legs about 30 yards ahead of me coming down the creek bed. Two things suddenly came into play, 1) I never cut any shooting lanes as I had no idea where the deer might come from and 2) I realized that I might have hung the stand a little too high. The tree I was in grew up out of the creek bed right on the bank making it over 20 feet from the ground on one side but closer to 30 feet on the creek side. I could see the deer coming and it looked like a little dog from way up there. The only shot I had was a small opening under my tree out to about 10 yards. I drew my bow as he walked in and grunted as soon as he hit the opening but he kept coming, so I grunted several more times. The wind was too loud for him to hear me and by this time he was 30 feet straight below me. I let out a very loud noise that in no way resembled anything a deer would make, but he heard it and stopped about 3-4 feet from the base of my tree. I was carefully dangling over the edge of my tree stand still at full draw trying to get my pin on him without falling forward out of the tree. I never bothered hooking up a harness on the tree since I planned on moving the stand. Thankfully I was able to hang on by my toenails and did not fall to a certain death, but now I seldom hunt without one after this experience. The buck had his head cocked back looking straight up at me trying to figure out what made that strange sound. My only shot was to try and just miss his spine and clip some vitals as I came in from the top. Not a shot that I had ever practiced or would recommend, but it was all happening too quick and without further thought I found my spot and let the arrow fly only to hear what sounded like the crack of a wooden bat hitting a baseball. He stood there long enough for me to see my arrow lying at his feet in the dirt and then he jumped up the bank into some cedars on the opposite side of the creek. Still not knowing what just happened, I nocked another arrow as he stood twenty yards from me shaking his head and wondering the same thing. After a minute at most he started walking towards a nice wide opening 20 yards from me putting him perfectly broadside for an easy chip shot so I drew my bow again. Well that did not happen as planned either. He stepped into the opening and all I needed was one more step to expose his breadbox when he suddenly got a whiff of my scent. He turned 90 degrees and headed straight away from me at a fast walk proudly waiving his big white flag. Still at full draw I waited hoping for a quartering away shot as he slipped further and further away. Finally he gave me a glimpse of his side and I released arrow number two without a clue of the yardage. The last thing I saw as he disappeared into the thick cover was my yellow fletching going into his left cheek. Yes I shot him in the butt, get over it. I later ranged the shot at 48 yards which at the time was beyond what I typically would shot.

There I was sitting in a tree coming out of the tunnel vision that occurs when you go from complete boredom to heart pounding exhilaration and then back to zero again in a few short minutes. What just happened? What was the deal with the first shot; did I hit him in the skull or miss and hit a rock? Man that was loud. Did I really just shoot a big buck in the butt? Was that the 13 point buck? It looked like him but from that altitude I was not sure. I sat up there for another two hours trying to figure it all out as I waited for sunset and my hunting buddy to come pick me up. Surprisingly, when he showed up and I told him the whole story he went easy on the wise cracks about my archery skills. We are very competitive and typically have no problem talking trash when it comes to who is the best hunter. He knew I was upset and felt my pain. When I climbed down I found my first arrow below the tree with the broad head and about 2 inches of the arrow missing. Not a drop of blood on it. Knowing my second shot was not a good one, we snuck out and went back to camp in hopes that a deers anatomy included some little known vital organ in his rear section. A little after midnight we returned to find only a few minor specs of blood. We looked for 30 minutes and were still within twenty yards of where I shot him with no blood trail. We decided to spread out wider and go in circles hoping to pick up the trail again. I turned to ask my buddy something and my flashlight lit up his white belly, I had walked right past him in the dark. The buck only made it 40 yards from the spot I last saw him. I easily confirmed that this was in fact the 13 pointer after seeing his split G2s and G3s. He had a large hole in his left butt cheek where the arrow went in and another in his chest where it came out. Arrow number two had done a complete pass through (the hard way) and it was still stuck in his right front leg. Arrow number one was imbedded an inch deep into his left main beam where it remains today. If you look at the trajectory of the arrow stuck in the antler you can see that he was looking straight up at me in the tree.

What are the odds of getting a picture of a buck, buying a piece of property based solely on that picture and then the first hour ever hunting on the property you get not one shot but two shots at this same buck? When asked how I killed this buck, I tell people that I head butted him, once in the head and once in the butt. The buck scored 155 5/8 and that temporary stand still hangs high above the creek 5 years later and has produced two other Pope and Young bucks including a 13 point drop tine I shot this year. There are a lot of things I should have done different on that hunt and hope to never repeat again, but I would not trade the memory or my buck with the arrow in his head for anything. I hope my story helps explain my strange buck and gives those of you who have never been up a tree with a bow some appreciation of the spilt second decisions that must be made. I guess that is why I love bow hunting so much, everything happens much closer and faster, and the thrill of going from 0 to 200 in mere seconds is beyond anything a drug can do. Only those who have experienced this incredible rush can appreciate and understand this obsession that draws me back to the deer woods each October. May your arrows always fly true.

Bill "BWHTR" Costin