A friend of mine invited me to hunt at his camp in Rushford, New York. It was only a half-hour drive from my place, so I accepted his offer eagerly. We arrived early to discuss our hunting strategy. Armed with climbing tree stands, we planned to spread out along a big ridge and hunt any fresh signs. While I had never hunted deer in this area, I had done some grouse hunting in a nearby swampy creek bottom.
The Perfect Set-Up
I parked my truck and ventured into the snow-covered forest. After a short walk, I stumbled upon a pond—a natural pinch point perfect for setting up. I found a tree to climb with pine trees behind it to break up my silhouette. Within an hour, a big doe approached to thirty yards, creating a perfect setup as I anticipated a big buck following her scent.
Interrupted Hunt
Just as the moment seemed perfect, I heard a horn beeping by my truck, signaling that help was needed to track a hit deer. Reluctantly, I climbed down and packed up my gear. Upon reaching the road, I learned it was breakfast time, and everyone was headed back to camp. Disappointed, I followed the others, despite the perfect hunting weather.
Back to the Woods
After a cup of hot coffee at camp, the itch to get back into the woods took over. I announced my intention to return and shoot a buck if anyone wanted to join. Amid laughter, I headed back out alone, remembering the swamp area from my grouse hunting days. Driving back there, I parked the truck and entered the winter wonderland once more.
The Encounter
Still hunting along a bank overlooking the swampy creek bottom, I came across two fresh sets of buck tracks heading into the swamp. Hurrying forward, I found a point with excellent shooting opportunities due to the elevation change. I positioned myself behind a large Norway Spruce tree and nocked an arrow. Using my grunt call, I gave two short grunts.
The Big Buck Showdown
Almost immediately, I heard a deer rushing towards me. A nice eight-point buck appeared, clearly agitated. He stopped thirty yards away, tearing apart some red brush and making a scrape. We grunted back and forth until he laid his ears back and walked into the brush, emerging at what I guessed was thirty yards. As he walked through tall grass, I released my arrow, which unfortunately zipped harmlessly over his back.
The Final Shot
Undeterred, I knocked another arrow and headed towards the creek, where the buck had joined a six-point. Kneeling behind three huge poplar trees, I mimicked a buck rubbing his antlers by raking my quiver on some brush. It worked perfectly as the buck charged up, walking stiff-legged down the trail on the other side of the poplar trees. At full draw before he came into view, I waited. As his shoulder came into sight, I released my arrow, hitting him squarely in the rib cage.
The Aftermath
The buck reacted to the impact, mule-kicking and running in a semicircle for twenty yards before stopping. He looked back at me with crazy bugged-out eyes before falling over backward. I approached the expired deer, sat down to catch my breath, and replayed the exciting hunt in my mind. After field-dressing the deer and tagging his antler, I headed back to the truck.
Back at Camp
I returned to the cabin within an hour, prompting wisecracks about my promise to shoot a buck. I held up my blood-covered hands, causing everyone to jump up and see what was in my truck. They were in shock at my successful hunt and inspired to spend more time in the woods that year because of my story.
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