By Jacob VanDeman
From the time I could pick up a weapon, my dreams have always revolved around putting my hands on a giant trophy whitetail. Of course, that is a completely relative term that evolves over time for each individual.
The obsession started as an observer. Before I took my first buck I witnessed many taken by others. I saw bucks, big and small, taken by immediate family and hunting buddies, complete with the boastful play-by-play to go along. The small buck stories always sounded more like a shameful explanation. I also witnessed a variety of bucks in truck beds at gas stations and on the road, hanging in trees in front of homes, at sporting goods stores, and at check stations.
Naturally, the bigger bucks always draw envious—bordering on lustful—stares and praise. The little bucks get puzzled glances and attempted compliments. This has forever been the code of the whitetail hunter. It’s in our nature and taught from a young age. Artwork, film, and mounts adorning homes are reserved for the trophies. They didn’t make Bambi about a spike. In fact, Bambi’s dad was a world class 10-pointer with split G2s. Growing up in the early days of Realtree Monster Bucks and Drury Brothers on VHS only fueled my pursuit.
My first trophies were basket rack 8-pointers. Before cameras, the first time you saw a buck was when he surprised you after hours of sitting patiently while hungry and cold. The immediate surge in adrenaline combined with the memory bank of Monster Buck footage, usually made me inflate his actual size enough to take the shot. After doing this a few times, I started to realize they are usually smaller on the ground. I also realized it’s a lot of work to track, gut, drag, and butcher a deer.
These realizations, along with a few other elements, spurred my evolution as a deer hunter. Indiana, where I hunt, made a switch to the 1-buck rule. This limitation made me put a little more consideration into giving a buck the thumbs up. The state was consistently putting out more and bigger bucks with a better understanding of QDM. The bucks I grew up watching on Monster Bucks, were now a real possibility. I had already taken my fair share of average bucks, that were trophies to me at that time, and had personally seen some really big ones taken by friends and family. I’d also had my own close encounters with big ones that evaded me. The days of simply judging a buck by the number of points and getting excited about a 2-year-old, basket racked 8-pointer were behind me. The bar had been raised.
It was during my evolution that I met JP, one of my best friends and hunting buddies, who was still in the green beginning stage of hunting. We became friends in college, and it came up that I was going on a hunting trip one weekend. He informed me he had just taken up bow hunting, had purchased and been practicing with a new bow. JP said he’d only been hunting a few times and was itching to go more. I was happy to have a buddy with the same flexible college schedule to go with me on a moment’s notice.
Before we could go, I wanted to do some proper vetting and assessment so we hit the range. Being on a college student schedule, the first outing was at night and needed to be indoors for light. We met up at JP’s parents’ house, as they had a nice big metal barn with electricity. He shot well beyond his experience, putting golf ball sized groups at 20-40 yards. I skipped an arrow off the concrete floor and put a hole in the garage door. We watched and broke down hours of hunting content like game film. We looked at aerial satellite maps and I gave him the lay of the land and what to expect. The stage was set.
We hit the woods well before dawn, split up, and went to our respective stands, keeping communication via cell phone:
JP: Just climbed up and settled in. I’m already hearing some close. This is a great spot.
Me: Nice. Weather is perfect. Should be a good hunt.
***A few hours pass ***
JP: Got a 4-pointer right in front of me. What should I do?
Me: What do you mean?
JP: Should I shoot him?
Me: I mean, it’s up to you. You can do what you want. I wouldn’t.
JP: That was awesome. He was hanging out by my stand for a while within bow range. I got a really good look at him up close. I’m not sure if I should have taken the shot. If he comes back, I might.
Me: That’s exciting. Don’t worry about it. You’ll get an opportunity at something bigger.
Meanwhile, I put my phone in my pocket and returned to intent observation. Before long, I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching in the crunchy leaves and saw a deer in the distance making his way up the ridge. I saw antlers and squinted to get a better look. I could immediately tell he was a pretty good one and my excitement started to build. His rack had good mass, sat high off his head, and his beams extended towards the tip of his nose. He was on a direct line to me. I checked out his body and confirmed he was big. As he got closer, I could only make out 4-points. He’s only a 4-pointer? This is the biggest bodied, thickest massed 4-pointer I’ve ever seen. I’d be an idiot to pass on this deer. As he walked the path right in front of my stand, I drew, took aim, he stopped at 20 yards, and I released my arrow. Textbook. After watching him run off, I excitedly grabbed my phone out of my pocket to text JP only to see I had an unread text from him, received 20 minutes ago:
JP: I don’t see him anymore. I think he was walking up the ridge towards you. Do you see him?
.
.
.
.
Me: Actually … I shot him.
