Every hunting season since I was 2 years old, my dad and I have traveled from our home in Niceville, Fla., to Macon County, Alabama. It had been four years since I was able to take a nice buck worthy of mounting.
This year I had a new gun handed down to me, a 1980s Browning BAR .270. I had been letting small bucks walk until the rut hit. Then, on Sunday, Jan. 25, 2014, our last weekend in the woods arrived.
We woke at 4:30 in the morning and dressed, leaving camp by 5:15 to drive to the land we lease. It was so cold, in the low 20s, but the sky was beautiful and it was beginning to look like a wonderful morning. After I got to my treestand, I sat still until around 8 a.m. when I started hearing people talking off in the distance.
I just knew my hunt was ruined.
I was so disappointed my last day of hunting season had been ruined by people talking on the land that backs up to ours. I wasn’t surprised to see my dad coming over the hill to get me from my stand. The night before we’d talked about getting down early and refreshing ourselves then going to a field where my dad had taken an 8-pointer the day before.
We returned to our ATV to get a drink and eat some donuts before we stalked back into the woods where we sat at the top of the hill looking down at a field.
My dad and I were a good 50 feet apart while he rattled antlers and used his grunt call. All of a sudden we saw two does appear at the bottom of the hill.
I got ready while Dad continued to rattle and grunt. We waited a good 15 minutes, but nothing came out behind the does. As we walked down the field toward a hardwood bottom, we saw the woods were torn up with scrapes.
At the bottom, we set up and once again. Dad was behind me while I sat in front between two oak trees as he started to rattle and grunt. We sat there for about 20 minutes. I heard some squirrels to my left and was just waiting for something to walk out.
That’s when my dad snapped his fingers and motioned toward my right where a doe had walked out. She was in a hurry, and we just knew there had to be buck behind her.
We heard the buck grunt before we saw him. When Dad grunted back, the buck stepped out. I had never seen anything that big before. The buck never saw me between the oak trees as I carefully and quietly got up and rested the gun against the oak tree in front of me.
I knew all it would take would be one shot — one perfect shot — and I’d have the biggest buck I’d ever seen. I put the crosshairs on him and I eased off on the trigger. Before I knew it the buck had fallen over. It’d happened so fast I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“I got him, Dad,” I yelled. “He’s down.”
Dad and I went over to him and had a moment. I was so happy I started to cry tears of joy. It was the best and most unforgettable hunting experience I’ve had.
After taking a few pictures, we drug him out of the bottom to our cart. He was very heavy, and we had to get him over two creeks. We realized we’d been so excited that we didn’t remember crossing the creeks after my shot. Finally, we walked out, got our Polaris and picked him up.
All of our hunting partners were shocked that I had out-hunted them this year, but my dad, uncle and their friends were happy for me.
It was the best way to end my hunting season. I can’t wait to see what this year has in store!