Priorities, Priorities, Priorities
By Mike Handley
Soon after Jesse Watson settled into his ground blind on Wednesday, Nov. 20, his wife sent him a text, reminding him they were supposed to drive to Kansas City to celebrate her grandmother’s birthday that weekend. Unwilling to commit, he fired off a reply:
“Look, I’m not a father, a husband or a basketball coach until this deer is dead. If the sun’s out, I’m in my deer stand. If not, I’ll be at home for dinner … (two cry-laughing emojis followed by a single heart-faced one).”
“I’d never had anything like this buck on camera before,” he admitted.
Jesse first became acquainted with the mature whitetail when he and his daughter, Hazel, were dove hunting in 2023. When he received this year’s initial photo, the rack was much bigger.
A month later, Jesse was on a jobsite when the second photo popped up on his phone. Almost immediately, the 38-year-old heavy equipment operator dropped his tool belt and announced his working day was finished. He was in his deer stand, crossbow in hand, by 9 a.m.
He saw nothing.
The next day, he went straight to the woods with “peanut butter-and-jellies” and a protein bar, prepared to sit until nightfall. The blind is only 50 yards from a road. Still no dice.
On day three, 10 minutes after Jesse sent the text to his missus and set down his phone, the deer of his dreams walked to within 6 yards. Jesse was caught totally off guard when he saw the deer so close. After two days of hunting Mr. No Show, he’d convinced himself he was wasting his time.
When the bolt smacked into the giant whitetail’s shoulder, the deer grunted and just walked away. After it disappeared, Jesse left and called some friends.
“Ok, I called everybody and his dog,” he said. “One guy asked, ‘So you shot THAT ONE,’ and I said, ‘Yes … THAT ONE!’”
Aside from his friend, he’d told few people about the deer’s existence.
“I lied. I lied to everybody, except my wife,” Jesse laughed. “I shared a photo with her, and she showed it at work. I told her not to show it to anybody else.”
He and a buddy returned an hour later to take up the trail.
“Waiting was rough. That was the longest hour of my life,” he said. “I knew the buck was dead, based on what I’d seen, but that didn’t mean I’d ever see it again.”
The trail led them back to where they’d parked. The buck had died within a few feet of the truck, and both men had walked past without noticing it. Several friends familiar with the recovery have since chided him, saying, “Did you not look?”
It was that close, lying in the mostly wide open.
To avoid complications that often arise whenever big deer are harvested, Jesse immediately called the local game warden, who told him he’d never been asked to verify a deer like that. “I just want you to come look and give me your blessing,” Jesse told him.
When that box was ticked, he checked Hazel out of school so she could share in the hunt’s aftermath. She had also been keeping tabs on the deer via cell cam, and her dad had used the same arrow and mechanical broadhead — mainly because it was outfitted with a working illuminated nock — she’d used to shoot her 9-pointer in 2023.
Brad Forbus scored the deer for Buckmasters. Even with a 6-inch tine missing, the rack tallied 200 3/8 inches.
The Sedgwick County 18-pointer is the second 200-incher under Jesse’s belt. He shot the first while standing inside his back door, clad only in his underwear.
“I’d rather be lucky than good, any day,” he laughed. “I run equipment for money, but I get more out of hunting than from anything else.”
He says hunting is also far less frustrating than domesticating wild second-graders on a basketball court. And while he cut his teeth hunting with rifles under the tutelage of his Marine sniper father, he’s devoted the last decade almost exclusively to bowhunting.
Photos courtesy of Jesse Watson