It’s that time of year again, time to pack up my bow and all my camo and head up north to Central Illinois to hunt with one of my best friends, Shane Drawe. (Shane left Texas to start his own home building company in Illinois. I have known Shane for over fifteen years and we both share a burning passion for hunting whitetails. He is also one of the funniest people I know.) He owns 50 acres about 50 miles west of Peoria. His property is in the middle some of the most prime whitetail hunting land in the world.

Hunting in Illinois is extremely difficult since the majority of the season is archery only (with the exception of two weekends of shotgun or muzzleloader). Bating is not allowed, and neither are center fire rifles. So setting up 100 yards from a feeder and sitting in a nice cozy blind like you would in Texas is out of the question. You have to scout the land, find the trails, scrapes and rubs and REALLY hunt. What a novel idea! These deer are not genetically altered, they aren’t tagged, and they aren’t constrained by high fences. These deer are corn fed (by corn fields, not feeders) and they are as wild as wild can be. That’s what makes this trip so enjoyable for me. It’s hunting in its purest and fairest form. No feeders, no high powered rifles, no high fences, no big deer blinds to lounge in, just you in tree with a bow. With this being said, it is close to impossible to get a mature buck to come within 40 yards. These deer are big (some push 300 lbs.), smart, and wily. You better bring your “A” game to bag one of these bruisers.

This trip to Shanes is by far my most favorite hunting trip of the year. Not only is it a chance to bag a monster whitetail, but hanging with Shane in the infamous “Mouse House” is an experience in itself. The Mouse House is where we stay, and it is nothing short of paradise (depending on your definition of paradise). This house has nothing to do with Walt Disney, it gets its name from the inhabitants in which you share the house with. The mice don’t bother us, and we don’t bother them. It is a converted barn with all the amenities of Alcatraz. No running water, not stove, no insulation, and definitely no maid service. But it does have satellite TV with about 600 channels…soooo…our priorities are a little off. What’s more important, showering or watching the big football game? If you answered showering, you’re not invited to the Mouse House.

Friday November 5th

I fly into Peoria Illinois and Shane is there to pick me up with his brand new toy in tow, a jacked up gas powered golf cart with big knobby tires, perfect for scootin around his property. It’s around 2:30 and there is just enough time to drive out to the farm and get in a stand with a couple of hours left of light. We quickly unload our stuff at the Mouse House, put on our huntin gear and head out to the stand. For my first hunt I choose the “gap” stand. The “gap” is situated with a cut corn field on one side and hardwood thicket on the other. It is on a point between a CRP field and the corn field, so a lot of traffic goes back and forth between bedding and feeding. I get situated in my stand, brimming with excitement and optimism.

Within minutes there are deer movin out in the corn field. I look behind me and see a doe running thru the field with a young buck on her heels, hot in pursuit. They both cross into the thicket about 35 yards behind me. It gets my blood pumpin to have a buck already come within range.

A few minutes later, I look behind me again and see a wide, heavy, white antlered nine point come bounding thru the field following the scent of the doe that just passed thru. I stand up and get my bow ready. I can’t believe I might get my buck on the very first hunt. (I wonder to myself what I might do for the next 5 days if I kill this deer) I take another look thru my binoculars and confirm that it is a shooter buck. My body starts to shiver as I clamp my release on my string. I turn to get in the best position, assuming he will enter as the doe and young buck did, allowing me a perfect broadside shot in an ample shooting lane. I take a deep breath as the deer comes into sight from behind the tree I am perched. Wait a minute…what’s he doing? He is entering the thicket 10-15 yards deeper then the doe did! NOOO!! He darts behind some trees just out of range and veers away from me, not allowing me to even draw back my arrow….ARGHHH! I watch helplessly as he scoots away, mouth open, blindly following the hot doe, not realizing how close he came to his demise.

I sit back down, heart pounding, feeling frustrated but energized. I continue to see bucks moving across the corn field far out of range. I had a young eight point run thru the corn field and darn near walk directly into the tree I was sitting. I stood and drew on him just to practice. He never knew I was there. What a rush! In total, I saw 7 bucks on my first hunt, what a way to start!

Shane and I head back to the Mouse House to warm up. We are greeted by Mike. (Mike sold the land to Shane and grew up about half a mile from the Mouse House.) He is a great guy who knows this land like the back of his hand. He isn’t a big deer hunter, (he prefers waterfowl) he just likes to hang at the Mouse House and shoot the breeze with me and Shane. He is as much a part of the Mouse House as the mice. He is extremely intelligent and teaches me a ton about the ecology of the local land.

By now we are starving, luckily Shane’s mom sent some chili with him, because we didn’t have time to stop at the grocery store on the way out. We warm up two big bowls of chili, flip on the TV, and chew the craw with Shane and Mike. Good friends, hot chili, and monster whitetails, it don’t get no better. We hit the sack around 10:00 p.m. with visions of racks dancing in our heads.

Saturday November 6th


Up at 5:15 a.m. 23 degrees and a slight wind…perfect! I rustle Shane out of bed and make a fresh pot of coffee. I get completely dressed and harass Shane to hurry up and do the same. He doesn’t move quit as quickly as I do in the morning. I finally get him in the deer cart and we are off. I decide to sit in the “gap” stand again. The weather is crisp and cold. Right at first light I see a dark figure moving thru the field about 70 yards away, I strain to see him thru my binoculars. I catch a glimpse of his rack and my jaw drops. All I see is a lot of mass, about 12 inch g2’s and 7 inch brow tines! My heart starts to race again. Unfortunately, he continues to saunter away from me and I never see him again.

Once it was legal shooting light, I again start to see lots of deer movement out in the field. Mainly 2.5-3.5 yr old bucks competing for the doe’s attention, strutting and doing there best to look dominant. I am on the edge of my seat, watching all these bucks prance around in an open field with out a care in the world.

Then a strange thing happened, in the middle of the hunt, the wind picks up a bit and like a switch, the leaves in the trees started to fall. Now I’ve spent a lot of time in the woods and never seen anything like this. It’s like every leaf decided at that exact moment it was time to fall to the forest floor. It is literally raining leaves. Scratch that, its pouring leaves! The sound was the most amazing part, you wouldn’t believe the acoustics of millions of leaves hitting the ground at the same time. It was defining. I definitely wasn’t going to be hearing any deer approaching. I try to video the event to show my wife and family, but the video doesn’t do it justice. Just like most natural sights and sounds, you have to be there to grasp the true beauty. I get goose bumps as I thank my lucky stars for the blessings I am given. I am so lucky to get these types of opportunities to drink in the wonder of Mother Nature. You just never know what your gonna see in the wild.

Now back to the huntin! Out of the corner of my eye, I see a buck enter the picture from the CRP field. He is noticeably bigger then the other boys playin out in the field. I quickly throw up my binocs and see that is the same wide nine point from the previous evening! He is again following a doe and the doe is heading straight towards me!!! I can’t believe I’m getting another chance at this “wide nine”. I stand up and prepare. I had already ranged a rut mark in the field that was about 40 yards away. If I could get him inside that, he was a goner. I attach my release again and wait while the doe slowly feeds closer and closer to me with the buck moseying lovingly behind. The doe is now in range, I just need to buck to take about 5 more steps and he would be in a clear opening 35-40 yards away! The suspense is killing me, the buck of a lifetime is 55 yards away and completely oblivious to my presence! I slowly turn my body in the best possible position and wait. The buck starts to move forward when all of a sudden his head darts to his right. He lowers his head at an incoming intruder. Is it another buck? From the CRP field, I see a little black dot jogging across the field straight for my buck. It’s a coyote! The big buck spins on his hoof and runs for the thicket on the other side of the corn field!! ARGHHHH!! You gotta be kidding me! I slump down in my seat and throw every cuss word I know at that darn coyote. I hang my bow back up and sit there, pondering the odds of that really happening.

Shane picks me up and I explain the unfortunate luck I just had. He assures me I’ll get another shot. We book it back to the Mouse House, both chomping at the bit to pour a big cup of Joe. Is there a coffee in the world that tastes better then the one after a cold morning hunt? We scarf down some oatmeal and powdered donuts (breakfast of champions). After breakfast we put out a shooting block and make sure our bows are dialed in. I make fun of Shane because he uses a cross bow which can only be used by people with disabilities. He has a torn rotator cuff, which I guess technically makes him disabled. I am driving tacks from all distances and so is Shane. He actually pulled a Robin Hood and shot an arrow straight down the shaft of another arrow! That was the first time I had seen that in person. After target practice, we hork down a big ham and cheese sandwich and get ready for the evening hunt.

I decide to go away from the “gap” stand and hunt a hanger stand in a thicket on the east side of the property that backs up to a river and creates a natural pinch point with the corn field. I get settled in and again start to see a lot of deer movement. Multiple does and young bucks cruise by right below my stand, but none cause me to reach for my bow. As the sun sets I can see more deer start to congregate out in the corn field way out of range, I count close to twenty deer! I can’t believe the amount of deer I am seeing. Shane picks me up and describes the “deer porn” he saw out of the “gap” stand. He had a half dozen bucks chasing and mounting does all over the corn field! We are smack dab in the middle of the rut and lovin it!

Back at the Mouse House, we are greeted by Mike (as always) and his friend Don. Luckily Don brought some beef stew which was to die for. A big bowl of beef stew, oyster crackers and cold beer…YUM! We drink beers and tell half true stories until I look around the room and everyone but me is dead asleep…sitting straight up…and its only 8:45 p.m…ha. I wake everyone and we all hit the sack. Unfortunately, all three guys snore like banshees. I move to the couch and try to ignore the symphony of snores.

Sunday November 7th

Up at 4:15 (since the clocks where moved back an hour for daylight savings time). Do the same routine of me waking Shane, making coffee and staring at him, urging him to hurry up. Shane,” Your wife must think you’re really annoying.” I usher him out to the deer cart and we are off. Much to our chagrin, it has warmed up significantly. It is barely in the 40’s. Oh well, hopefully the deer are too horny to notice the temperature. I choose the “gap” stand and get settled in. The hunt wasn’t nearly as good as the first couple. I saw some deer, but they where few and far between. The few deer I did see all came from the same direction (out of the CRP field) which made me take note for future hunts.

After chompin some oatmeal and powdered donuts, me, Shane and Mike head north of the Mouse House, over to a section of land that Mike’s father owns to move a leaner stand to a new location. What we thought would be a simple task took much longer. We scouted the area and argued over which tree to place the stand. We decided on a tree that had another cut corn field on one side and a deep ravine down the other side. Tons of trails and deer sign littered the side of the mini canyon. After we secured the new stand, we hurry back to the Mouse House, slam some hot chili and get ready for the evening hunt.

After observing the deer movement over the first few hunts, I decided to hunt a stand perched on a levee west of the gap stand, between the CRP and corn field. I want to try and catch the deer crossing over, hopefully crossing within range. I get to my stand and encounter a dilemma, there is a tractor mowing the already cut corn field! Dangit! (I prolly shouldn’t hunt over a field with a tractor makin a bunch of racket.) I change my plan and head to the south side of the property to sit in a double leaner stand. I get situated and once again the deer movement is much slower then days past. I see some turkeys, a few does and have a young eight point walk right in front of me. I even had a deer who thought he was a turkey! This button buck looked like he was playing hide and seek with the flock of turkeys. He would chase these turkeys round and around a tree. Jumping and prancing around seemingly trying to annoy them. The turkeys didn’t seem quite as entertained as the little button buck did.

I mainly enjoy the awesome sunset, snapping pics and drinking in the orange and red colors dancing across the vast horizon. As the sun set behind the trees and the proper shooting light started to fade, I hear a rustle of tree limbs about 50 yards straight in front of me. It is obviously a buck making a rub. I have a few minutes of light left if I can just get this buck to come in range. I grunt, bleat, and wheeze, but the buck is happy just makin his rub and ignoring my calls. I plead for him to head my way but he refuses to budge. Just as the light almost completely fades, I hear the deer’s heavy footsteps heading my way! I lift my binocs and see a beautiful ten point with dark chocolate antlers and a bull’s neck! I quickly grab my bow and get into position. I strain my eyes thru the encroaching darkness, barely making out the silhouette of the monster buck. I lift my bow as the buck walks 15 yards directly in front of my stand! My body shakes as I draw back and try to find the buck thru my peep sights. My heart sinks as I struggle to even see my pins. I let off my draw and lower my bow, succumbing to the reality that I didn’t have enough light to make an ethical shot on this magnificent deer. I sit back down and helplessly watch as the buck waddles right by me, making scrapes and rubs, directly below my stand. It was like he knew I dint have enough light and was rubbing it in my face. I try to fight back the frustration and discouragement. I tell myself that I have plenty of time left. My luck is bound to change.

Shane picks me up and I explain again the unfortunate luck I just endured. He smirks and assures me I will get my chance. We head for the Mouse House and realize we have mowed thru every morsel of food. We jump in Shane’s truck and make the 20 minute drive into the tiny town of Maquan to buy some groceries and dinner.

We forget that it’s Sunday night and most every store in town is closed. The one place open was the local butcher. We drop by and thru a large swinging door a grizzled old man strides in wearing a bright yellow rubber apron, big black rubber boots, a black ski cap, completely covered in blood, and holding an eight inch meat cleaver! Yikes! His sunken in face glares at us as he questions why we are in his establishment so late. His ashen skin, sunken cheeks, and steely eyes stare right thru me and Shane as if he knows we are from Texas and wants to chop up all Southerners. I back up and let Shane do the talkin. Shane asks the butcher if he has any steaks to buy. He pauses, looks us both up and down and says in a deep raspy voice, “there’s a nice deer in the back.” Shane looks at me and with fear in his voice says, “Ummm…ok…let’s check it out.” We walk thru the swingin doors and are met by a coworker who looks equally as scary. He points towards a long damp hallway. There are dead animals hanging everywhere, skins half peeled away, the smell of death is all around. We slowly creep down the wet hallway as the coworker guides us from behind. We walk thru a labyrinth of halls and swinging doors until we are deep inside the death lair. I swear I have seen this play out in the movies before. There is one last swinging door to pass thru and we would “supposedly” see the deer. All I can picture is the butcher waiting for us behind the final door and with one swing, lopping of mine or Shanes heads. I figure it’s about a 50/50 chance whether we make it out alive. I half close my eyes as I push open the final door…..there, laying peacefully in a trashcan is the head of a MONSTER Illinois whitetail! A fourteen pointer with split g2’s, drop tines, height, mass, width, you name it. It had to be over 180 B&C. We forget for a second that we are in a horror flick and admire the magnificent buck. After snapping some pics, we make our way back thru the labyrinth as fast as we can and finally make it back out to the lobby. The butcher is there to meet us with a couple rib-eyes and T-bones. We pay for the steaks and hightail out of there as quickly as possible.

After the butcher, we stop and eat at a place called “Tiffany’s“, the local watering hole that also serves food. Shane and I take a seat at the bar and are “greeted” by the bartender who has a full sleeve of faded Harley Davidson tattoos on her arm along with other unrecognizable tats. She stares us up and down, confirming we are not from these parts and says in an ever deeper voice then the butcher, “Whatcha want?“ Shane asks for a Miller Light and she promptly hands him a Bud Light. Shane, “I don’t think they are known for there service.” We order some pretty brutal French dip sandwiches, but the food was cheap and the beer was cold, so we had nothing to complain about. We laugh and tell some more half true stories. After dinner, we take it on back to the Mouse House and crash around 10p.m.

Monday November 8th

For the morning hunt, Shane decides to hunt the new stand over looking the ravine that we just put up the day before and I try the stand on the levee between the CRP and corn field that was unhuntable the night before. I somehow shimmy up the tree with my bow in one hand since the stand had no bow string to lift up my bow. I get safely settled into the rickety old stand and wait for the sun to rise. The weather is still warmer then we would like, but I am feeling optimistic. At first light I start to see deer moving thru the CRP field. I see dozens of deer cutting in and out of the high CRP field grass. Only one doe came within 100 yards and instantly busted my position. I must have stood out like a sore thumb since the sun was rising directly in my face and had no tree cover to obstruct her view. I have a staring contest with this doe for 20 minutes and realize this stand is much better suited for shotguns. I figured I would have no chance to stand and draw on a buck considering this doe had me pegged from 100 yards away. I decide to make a bold move and change locations. Right as I get back on the ground I receive a text from Shane. In capitol letters, “BBD! BBD! Nice eight point!” (BBD means Big Buck Down). Alright! We have horns on the ground!! I text him back and tell him I’m movin for the rest of the morning hunt. He says he was goin back to the Mouse House to wait for me because he needed help loading the deer. I call him a pansy and tell him to man up and throw the deer in the dang cart and get to guttin it. He assures me he needs help. Wussy.

I quietly creep to a brand new leaner stand about 100 yards south of the “gap” stand, deeper in the thicket where a lot of the deer had been escaping out of range from the “gap” stand. Within minutes of setting up in the new stand I hear a grunt back behind me. Seconds later I hear branches breakin, I turn around to catch a glimpse of two does darting thru the brush about 20 yards behind me. Right on there heels is a buck! I throw up my binoculars in time to see a crab claw on his right main beam. I recognize that rack. It’s the wide nine that I’ve been dooped by all weekend! I reach for my bow, but by the time I get it ready they are all about 60 yards away and shielded by dozens of trees. I watch helplessly as they jog away. This guy is giving me fits! I sit back down and pray they loop back in my direction.

Wouldn’t you know, ten minutes later I see a deer bobbin thru the thicket straight ahead. There comin back my way! I stand up and sure enough, there’s Mr. Wide Nine runnin full steam ahead, chasin the does! I clamp my release and try to visualize where they will pass me and where my best shooting lanes are. As the doe gets closer she veers slightly to my left thru a lane that is in range but I’m not sure exactly how far. I reach for my range finder in my safety harness pocket and range the lane at 40 yards, I go to put the range finder back in my pocket just as the buck is approaching the lane. Just as I’m lifting my hand out of my pocket I look down at the doe, which I had completely forgot to account for in my excitement, and she is 10 yards in front of me and looking dead at me! She must have seen my hand move or noticed something amiss because she started to back up from where she came, spun and bolted away from me out of the thicket into the corn field with Mr. Wide Nine loyally following behind. ARGHHHH!!! NOOO!!! I blew it! If I would have just let the doe pass by and waited for the buck to come right to me, I would have maybe had a chance to draw down on him. I melt back into my chair, put my head in my hands and wonder what could have been if I had just shown a little more patience.

I make the long walk back to the Mouse House, going over and over the chain of events that just transpired. I give myself a pep talk and remind myself I have four more hunts, plenty of time to catch a break.

I barge into the Mouse House and give Shane a big high five! He tells me all about the buck coming straight up the ravine and stopping broadside 10 yards away from his stand! (I guess we picked the right tree) The buck bolted down the ravine and toppled head over hoof, coming to a stop about 200 yards DOWN in the ravine. We hop in the deer cart and book it over to the new stand. He shows me where he shot the deer and we start to walk STRAIGHT DOWN a very steep embankment. I’m still not putting it all together that this deer has to be drug back up from which we just came. The blood trail is thorough and there, lying at the furthest possible spot longitudely from ground zero is Shane’s buck. A beautiful, mature, heavy racked Midwest river bottom brute!!! I high five Shane again and admire the mass of this beast he just slayed (he had to be pushin 300 lbs.!). His face, neck and chest more resembled a dang horse then a deer! Ray Lewis would have no shot against this fullback! (This was my first time seeing a Midwest buck on the ground. I’ve done most of my whitetail hunting in South Texas, so I was completely unprepared for the girth of these Illinois bucks.) We spend about ten minutes conducting a mini photo shoot, snapping pics as Shane and I lift his heavy head and document the fallen beast.

Once the photo shoot was over, reality sunk in as we start to plan our assent. We had brought rope, so I say, “let’s just wrap the rope around his antlers, throw the rope over our shoulders and start diggin up the hill. Should be cake.” We do just that and on the first heave we move the deer about two inches. We try a few more angels with the rope and decide the rope is completely worthless. I’m already sweating bullets and we have moved the deer a total of five feet! Shane and I look at each other with despair. We dig deep into our college educated minds and come up with….drum roll please…nothing. We contemplate gutting, skinning, quartering it and packing it out like a dang elk! Chase, “Bro…we aren’t packing this thing out, its only 200 yards.” (In hindsight this is prolly what we shoulda done. After later describing our predicament to my wife, she calmly says to me, “Why didn’t you just put some logs under him and roll him up the hill? Or you coulda just tied his feet to a big tree limb and hauled him out over your shoulder caveman style? “I have no answers and regret not calling her while we were in the ravine. Obviously she has the brains in the family.)

Feeling like Lloyd Christmas and Harry Dunn (Dumb and Dumber), I decide pure grit and determination is the only way we are going to get this thing out. No excuses, no whining, no shortcuts, just some good ole fashioned elbow grease and Texas muscle. We roll up our sleeves, spit in or hands and get to work. I grab the antlers and Shane gets the hind legs. We map our course and start to heave hoe. I grab the rack, and on the count of three, stand and fall backwards while Shane grabs the urine drenched hind quarters and does an offensive linemen blocking drill maneuver where he lifts and drives the back side of the deer up towards me, landing side doggy style on top of the buck on each push. We repeat this maneuver over and over again, after about 30 minutes we have traveled a grand total of 50 yards! We are sweatin, gruntin, spittin and cussin. We switch sides and its time for me to bath in the urine of a fully mature rutting buck. I lift and drive while Shane lifts and falls. We take periodic breaks to catch our breath and plot the shortest route possible to the cart. After about an hour and a half, we can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel! I tell Shane to go drive the cart over to the edge of the thicket. We tie the buck to the cart and drag him out the last 20 yards and he is FINALLY on flat ground!!! YAY!!! We high five to celebrate our success.

Our celebration is short lived as we both realize the bed of the cart is about 3 or 4 feet off the ground! Son of a b*****. I jump in the bed, reach down and grab his antlers. I pull up with all my might as Shane gets under the deer in an Atlas position and hoists the buck up onto the back of his neck and into bed. Just as the buck is almost safely in, it begins to slip out since it is a too big for the bed of the cart! Shane does a drop step and Goldberg’s’ the deer in the ribs, driving it back up into the bed, saving it from slumping back to the ground. Shane simultaneously grabs some tie downs and ties off the buck as we struggle to keep the behemoth from slipping out again. We finally get him securely in the cart and we both slump to the ground gasping for air, too tired to even high five. We smell like the inside of a buck’s [censored], but we don’t care because we have conquered the beast and are headin to the Mouse House. We are kings of our domain.

We grab some much needed water and head to the CRP field to field dress the deer. Shane asks with an eyebrow cocked if I would like to field dress the deer. I say yes and get to cutting. I get elbow deep in blood and guts just to put a cherry on top of the immense funk I had goin on. A vulture would have turned his nose up at me. After cleaning the deer, we take it back to the Mouse House to have a thorough photo shoot. We find a little birm to prop the buck up on and snap dozens of angel flattering pics. I’m lying on by belly, giving Shane directions for the perfect shots. After thoroughly capturing the size and grandeur of the deer, we load it into Shane’s truck and he takes it into town to the scary butcher, while I get ready for the evening hunt. Chase, “Good luck Shane.”

I can’t take the way I smell, so put together a make shift shower by putting a water container with a spicket up on top of an old refrigerator. I strip down and try my best to scrub off the funk. It was cold, but much needed. I was a new man after that.

For the evening hunt I choose to hunt the same stand that Shane just killed the buck out of. This decision was obviously effected by fatigue. Why wouldn’t I hunt a stand that we just trampled around for a couple hours, sweating, cussing, and leaving human and dead deer scent? Needless to say I sat in that stand for four hours and saw a grand total of two squirrels. I coulda sworn I was a better hunter then that.

Shane comes to pick me up with his fiance, Kristi, in tow. She is a really cool girl who loves hunting just as much as we do. We take it back to the Mouse House and Shane fires up the Weber grill to cook up some steaks. The steaks where to die for. The grass fed Midwest beef just melted in your mouth. We woulda had baked potatoes to go with it, but Kristi forgot the potatoes. Kristi, “I remembered to bring the foil! “ We laugh, drink beers and savor the delicious steaks. We all crash around 9:30 p.m.

Tuesday November 9th

Up and at’em at 4:15 a.m. I choose to go back to the stand I had moved to the previous morning. (The one where Mr. Wide Nine had been hangin out) I get in the stand and within minutes of getting settled in I start to hear movement thru the leaf covered ground. Its pitch black as I hear a heavy footed deer headin right for me. The deer walks right in front of my stand. I strain with all my might to see what kind of deer it was, but I could see nothing. A few minutes later I hear more footsteps coming from my left, by now the sun is barely peeking over the horizon. I strain some more to see thru the darkness. I finally get a glimpse of him about 50 yards away. It’s a heavy, white antlered 10 point!! I reach for my bow and stand up. I watch the buck through my binocs as he slowly saunters right towards my stand! I see the deer really well through my Steiner binocs, but when I lower them, the deer almost completely disappears. I urge the sun to rise faster, but it doesn’t listen. The deer takes his time and eventually stands broadside ten yards in front of me! I draw back my bow and like déjà vu …I can’t see my pins! I see the dark grey silhouette of the deer, but I am not comfortable with the shot. I cuss the sun as the deer moseys away. I plop back down in my seat and watch as the woods slowly light up. I shake my head and can’t help but wish the deer had walked by just 3 or 4 minutes later. I give myself another pep talk and get locked back in.

About 30 minutes later, I spot movement to my right. Its two doe workin there way towards me. I stand and get ready in case buck is close behind. As soon as the doe comes into full view it looks dead at me and starts to stomp. I stay still and the deer continues to act squirrelly until she finally blows a couple times and bounds away. Either I have bad camo, or this new leaner stand is causing some alarm. That’s two deer in a row that have spotted me in this stand. I climb down and walk 100 yards north and climb up into the trusty old “gap” stand. The morning continues to be pretty slow with the warm weather, but after about an hour of no movement I hear something crashing thru the brush. I look to my left and between me and the new leaner stand I just left are four doe hightailing it thru the thicket. I stand up to get a better look. As soon as I do, the biggest freakin deer I have seen in my life busts out of the brush with his nose to the ground chasin the does! I almost fall out of the tree as I fumble for my bow. But the buck is moving too quickly and there is way too much debris between me and him. I try grunting to stop him, but he has one thing on his mind. He continues to angel away from me in a full trot as I peer at him thru my binocular. WOW…what a monster! I try to count the points, but he disappeared just as quickly as he appeared. My heart is pounding out of my chest. With a new shot of adrenalin, my optimism sky rockets. The big boys are movin and ones gonna slip up and make a mistake, I can just feel it!!

Within minutes I hear the tale-tale sign of a buck makin a rub about 50 yards straight ahead of me, shielded by a thick tangle of trees. By the sounds of it, he is REALLY big and REALLY aggressive. He must have torn down half that tree! My heart starts to pound again. I ready my bow and picture where he will come out of the thicket. Time slows to a crawl as my body starts to quiver. I finally hear him start to tromp my way, but I also hear another noise…an unfamiliar noise. I strain my ears and hear what sounds like a truck. Shane couldn’t possibly be coming to pick me up this early without my consent. The sound gets louder as my mind races trying to figure out what it is. The noise gets louder and louder until I finally see the front end of a tractor, coming DIRECTLY at me! NOOOO!!! The farmer drives right down the edge of the cut corn field, within ten yards of my tree stand! I contemplate drawing on the farmer and stickin him right in the neck, but instead, I watch helplessly as he roars right by me. Needless to say, I never saw or heard the buck that was in front of me again. I flop back into my seat and cuss the person who invented tractors. It’s tough to kill a buck when all of creation is against me. Coyotes, does, the sun, and now farmers! I look around and fully expect Ashton Kutcher to pop out from behind a tree and inform me I am on the TV show “PUNKED”.

Once back at the Mouse House, I sip on a cup of coffee and try to figure out what I need to do different to change my luck. I decide I need to create my own spot, take some ownership over my pursuit of my trophy whitetail. While sitting in the new leaner stand, I scouted some trees that would be perfect for a climber stand. That way I would be high enough to not be spotted, and I could have a shot at all the deer that have passed just out of range of the “gap” stand. I run this idea by Shane and he says he will do anything to help me out. Luckily, he had an extra climber stand.

Shane and I head into town to grab some breakfast. I haven’t had a real shower in days and my face is covered with green and brown face paint. Needless to say, the server looked at me kinda cockeyed. We scarf down some food and go about finding a handsaw somewhere so I can clear some limbs for my climber stand. First, we have to stop by the butcher to get Shanes buck to take to the taxidermist. The scary butcher doesn’t seem quite as scary during the daylight hours. We ask where we can find a hand saw. The butcher goes inside the building and comes back out with an electric handsaw, “just bring it back when you’re done.” WOW, its like in the movie “Home Alone” when McCauley Culkin realized his scary neighbor was actually really nice and generous. We thank him and take off to drop off Shanes buck at the Taxidermist.

We pull in and there is no one there! We have a deer head that’s needs to be refrigerated. We head back to the Mouse House to try and figure what we were going to do. Once there, Shane goes to grab a beer out of the fridge and says, “I think that deer can fit in here.” He rearranges the shelves and throws the deer’s head and cape right in the middle of the fridge! Only in the Mouse House.

I decide to get in the stand early, so we immediately head out to the evening hunt. I pick my tree, and learn on the spot how to use a climber stand. I shimmy up the tree and get settled in. It was another slow evening. I saw a couple doe, but once again, Mr. Farmer decided to work on his field. I was about 60 yards inside the thicket so I rolled the dice and decide to stick it out in hopes that the deer aren’t affected by the tractor. Shane was just West of me on the CRP field and could see if any deer where heading towards me. He texted me about thirty minutes before dark and said a nice eight was headin my way! I get ready as I see antlers moving thru the thicket. It’s a shooter buck!! The buck is about 50 yards away. I attach my release and once again visualize where the deer will come out of the thick brush. Right before he walks into a shooting lane, he veers straight left, angling away from me and not allowing me a shot! NOO! The buck ended up walking within five yards of the “gap” stand!!!! You gotta be kidding me!

I have one more hunt left. I feel like all the bad luck and near misses will lead to a grand finale, a buzzer beater, a bottom of the ninth homerun. I feel optimistic that the fruits of my labor will come to fruition and I will be rewarded with a magical hunt where I finally bag the big boy, making all the heartache and frustration worth while. I decide to hunt the same climber stand for my final hunt in the morning.

Wednesday November 10th

I get situated in my tree for my final hunt. My flight doesn’t leave till 6 p.m., so I am willing to sit as long as it takes. Unfortunately, we had eatin every scrap of food in the Mouse House, so I had nothing to hold me over in the stand. I figured I would be able to just power thru the hunger. The hunt was slow. The deer just weren’t comin thru my area. Shane had deer all around him and he was only about a quarter mile from me. (It might have had something to do with me not showering for five days. I wouldn’t have walked near me either.) I am feeling hungry and discouraged, so I tell Shane that I’m gonna stick it out until 11 a.m. and that he could come get me then. This was around 10 a.m. Around 10:15 I start to see some deer. I see a couple doe, a spike and then, about 30 yards away in a thicket, a shooter buck! A nice tall ten point is headin my way. I stand up and do my routine. The buck is in range, but in some really thick stuff. I just need him to take a couple steps towards me. He keeps walking parallel to me, never leaving the safety of the dense thicket. Come on! He eventually disappears into the thicket, never to be seen again. I feel rejuvenated and go to text Shane that I want to stay longer. I grab my phone and while typing the message I see a deer headin my way thru the same thicket! I hurrily go to put the phone in my pocket….and miss!! The phone bangs off the base of my climber and falls 30 feet to the ground! I see the tail of the deer bounding away thru the woods! I wanna punch myself in the face! I can’t believe I just did that. I sit down and try to figure out what I am going to do. It would take ten minutes and a lot of noise to climb down the tree to text Shane, and by now I guess it to be right at 11 a.m.! I don’t want Shane to worry about me and I don’t want him to walk into my hunting area either. I rack my brain and decide my only choice is to abandon the hunt and call it a day. I begrudgingly climb down to meet Shane. He tries to tell me I can still go hunt some more, but I’m too dejected, hungry, and frustrated to go on. Of all the frustrating things to happen, this takes the cake. I just KNOW an hour later, a world record buck with a target painted on his shoulder walked broadside five yards from that tree! I can handle bucks giving me the slip, but to have to quite before I was ready was a hard pill to swallow.

We ride back to the Mouse House in silence. I feel dejected, I feel like a failure, but on the other hand, I feel like I had the time of my life. Only hunting can give you these two feeling at the same time. I begin to replay all the hunts in my mind. All the close calls, all the bad luck, all the near misses, all the heartbreaking moments. I find myself starting to smile. I knew I had accomplished what I wanted. I smile because I knew I had made some great memories. As any true hunter will tell you, it’s the memories, not the actual deer that we are after. We as hunters cherish the challenge and the camaraderie more then we cherish the trophy. I can hunt with Shane at the Mouse House for the next 20 years and not kill a single deer, and still look forward to my trip to Illinois like a kid on Christmas Eve. Life is about the journey, not the destination.

See ya on down the road,
Chase

.