Smalltown Bucks

I got my first buck on Dec. 12, 2009, and I remember it like it was yesterday.

I was sitting in my treestand, waiting impatiently to see the woods wake up around me.

A few groups of deer ran by in the distance, and I hoped they would go by my husband, Mike, and my daughter, Michaela. After that, it was pretty slow.

By 8:35 I started to get a little bored, so got out my cell phone and began to have a text conversation with my niece. We exchanged five or so messages before I looked up to see a decent buck.

I was immediately mad at myself for not paying attention and once again hoped it was heading toward Mike.

I kept watching where the buck had gone and before long saw more movement. I soon saw antlers and said to myself, “Self, that’s the one you want!”

I immediately brought up my trusty .30-06, which Mike had won at a gun show. I put the scope’s crosshairs on the vitals and squeezed the trigger.

When the smoke cleared, I couldn’t see any movement. Where had my buck gone?

I called Mike for assistance, and he found the buck lying right where I shot it. He yelled to me that he’d have to call the Game Commission since I had shot an illegal buck.

I got down from the stand, discouraged and mad at myself until Mike held up the buck’s head. I was very excited and ran to my harvest. It was a 9-pointer with a 20-inch spread!

After 5 minutes of bragging, high five’s, hugs and congrats, I told Mike it was time for him to go to work and dress out my deer. He was more than happy to help.

Unfortunately, all I have left of that awesome day are pictures and memories. The person who was supposed to mount it for me either lost or sold my cape and antlers. On the bright side, our family ate very well for several months.

I get a tear in my eye every time someone brings up that awesome adventure. I continue to hunt and hope the hunting gods can find it in their hearts to give me one more hunt of a lifetime.

I’d also like to note that our entire family hunts together, including our son, Matt.

You just gotta love the great outdoors. It’s so peaceful and has so much to offer.

He taught me what his dad taught him about hunting. His best friend Bruce Rogers also taught me a lot about hunting, so what I’ve learned about deer and hunting, I owe to them.

Now that I’m 16, I’ve become a mighty hunter like my mentors.

The weekend before Wisconsin’s 2013 rifle season, I traveled with my dad, my uncles Eric and Paul, my younger sister Rachel, and my dad’s friends Bruce Rogers and Glen Schultz to our cabin in Birchwood.

We started checking things out at my Uncle Paul’s deer stand before my dad, Bruce and I walked down to the bottleneck between the lake and swamp. Deer sign was everywhere, so we put a stand on a big oak tree. It started raining before we finished, so I was cold and wet, but it was also worth it because that’s the stand I used when I took my first buck on Nov. 25.

The morning before opening day, we were up at 6, loading our trucks with guns, clothing, food and other items, but my sister and I got stuck stacking firewood and weren’t able to leave for camp until 2 that afternoon.

I think the night before opening day is always best because everyone laughs and jokes and tells stories about the previous season. We all head to bed early so we can be in our stands before sunrise, but usually we’re too excited to sleep well.

Opening day, November 22, found us awake at 4:30 a.m. My dad, uncles and his friends couldn’t sleep any later, either. I got up, had breakfast and got dressed in my blaze orange bibs and my safety harness and boots.

We left just before 6, early enough to settle into my deer stand. I used the light on my phone to see the trail since I’m not fond of the dark. After I got up in my stand and strapped in, I loaded my .243 Mossberg and sat quietly.

All I saw for the next few hours was a fat squirrel and a couple of chickadees. After an hour, I was so cold I could barely feel my toes. I was getting hungry, but I stayed until 8:45 before I got down and went back to camp. The good news was Rachel had shot her first buck, a one-horn spike.

Before 3 p.m., I got ready and drove back to my hunting spot. When the wind finally died down, I heard leaves rustle, and about 50 yards to my right were two small does. I watched them until they disappeared. At dark, I headed back to deer camp where everyone was talking about the day’s hunt.

The next morning, walking to my stand was easier. Again, all I saw were the chickadees. I dozed off, but awoke, disappointed I hadn’t seen a deer once again.

Back at camp, everyone decided to go out and eat breakfast. When we returned, I fell asleep on the couch.

When I awoke, it was time to go back to my stand. I found a doe in estrus bleat and called a couple of times before I put it back in my pocket. I’d dozed off, and when I awoke, it was prime time when deer move. But nothing did. At dark, I returned to camp.

It was cold, foggy and drizzling rain the third morning, so I slept in. Dad went out and didn’t have any luck, but the weather improved that afternoon. I spent about three and a half hours in my stand, and just before sunset, I had a good feeling.

Just as the sun disappeared behind the trees, I heard movement to my right. Sure enough, I saw a flickering white tail go up, then down. The hair on my arms stood up. It was a buck. Here was my chance to get a deer this season!

I was getting my gun ready when I saw another deer. Instantly, my attention was on the white antlers, and I tried to count points. I knew it might be my only chance to get a buck this season. By then it was 4:40 p.m., and the last bit of light was starting to fade.

As the deer stepped into my shooting lane, it stopped at 30 yards and gave me a perfect broadside shot. My heart raced so fast I could barely hold the gun still. Finally, I took a deep breath, released the safety, pinned the crosshairs right behind the shoulder and slowly squeezed the trigger, just like my dad taught me.

The deer hunched over, and I knew he was hit. He ran anther 40 or 50 yards and lay down. I nearly jumped out of my stand, I was so excited that I’d shot my first buck.

I calmed down, but I was still shaking from excitement. I unbuckled my safety harness, got down and walked straight to my buck. I thought it was a big 4-pointer, but when I saw the antlers, and looked closer, it was bigger.

I counted 7 points before I ran back to my truck. I immediately called my uncle since I knew Dad was still in his deer stand. When my uncle answered, I was laughing and crying when I told him I just shot my first buck and that he needed to come and help me drag it out. He thought I was joking, and it took a few minutes to convice him.

What seemed like an hour really only took 15 minutes for my uncle to arrive.

“Congratulations!” he said as he gave me a big hug. After gutting my deer, the real fun started — dragging it out of the woods.

My sister took one antler and I the other as we started our long journey from the woods to my truck. It was the longest and hardest drag ever! My sister and I tripped, fell and laughed about it. There was enough battery life on my phone to call my dad to help us, but when he finally arrived we were only 20 yards from the truck.

My dad, uncle and I loaded the big deer up, and Dad congratulated me and gave me a big hug and said he was proud of me and for the great shot.

We went back to camp and took pictures, and when I got in the cabin, before I even sat down, everybody wanted me to tell my story. Dad asked me about the second deer, and I told him I didn’t know what it was.

He thought it probably was a bigger buck because older, wiser bucks often let smaller bucks go first. It would have been nice to see the other one, but I’ll have a chance to get him next season when he’ll be even bigger.

I owe it all to my dad and Bruce because they took the time to help me find my hunting spot, and because Dad took the time to teach show me the elements of hunting.

My deer season was a success, and I can’t wait to see what next season brings.