Rack Magazine

Double drops are a powerful incentive.

It took seeing a buck with matching drop tines for Sam Tolbert to spring for a couple of trail cameras. It’s also why he bought his first crossbow.

Sam was making a mid-morning, pre-party dumpster run on July 9, his son’s birthday, when he spotted three racked whitetails emerging from the trees and entering a soybean field.

The youngest buck – probably a 1 1/2-year-old – was leading the way. Second in line was a considerably larger deer, a shooter by his standards. And then there was No. 3, probably the largest buck Sam had ever seen.

All were in velvet.

“I slowed down rather than stop because they were close to the road,” he said. “I drove past them, turned around, and headed back toward Mom and Dad’s house.

“I called my wife and told her to get to Mom and Dad’s as quickly as she could. I knew we would never see anything like that ever again,” he added.

“When I got there, Katie was there with our son. All five of us squeezed into her car and took off down the road,” Sam continued. “The deer were eating the beans. It was funny: They raised their heads – one, two, three – in the same order they’d come into the field.

“We drove by slowly, watching and trying to count the points. We especially stared at the big one’s double drop tines,” he said. “Like before, I drove past them and turned around so we could get another look.”

To that point, no one in the family owned a trail camera. But a trip to town the next day yielded two. Sam set one close to where the bucks had jumped the fence to reach the beans. The other was near a stand.

It soon became apparent the big buck was either invisible, or it wasn’t living on their farm.

“We had given up hope,” Sam said. “Nine weeks passed without a picture or a sighting. Then, the third week of September, we suddenly got 10 or 12 pictures of the buck in one sequence.”

After that, the photos became sporadic. Only the bean field camera photographed it, and always at night.

Eager to hunt the deer as soon as possible, which meant bow season, Sam bought a crossbow. They had just been declared legal for all in Indiana.

“We were spending a lot of money just for a chance at that one deer, but oh, what a deer,” he said. “I practiced as much as I could, and when the season opened, I hunted at least two or three times a week.

“Time flew by, and I never saw the buck. I did see a beauty of an 11-pointer, but it was small compared to the double-dropper, so I let it pass on two different occasions.

“One day, a neighbor stopped by the farm and told me he had seen a really large buck in our bean field earlier in the week. I perked up at that, and I started to hit the stand a lot more frequently. Trouble was, it was too warm.”

When Sam did see the deer during bow season, it was out of range.

“I was pretty sure it was the drop-tined buck, but it was a good 60 yards away and in the woods,” he said. “I tried grunting, and it turned and took three steps my way and stopped. After surveying the area, it turned back around and went on its way.”

The archery season ended without another sighting.

When the firearms season opened Nov. 12, Sam was in his stand before daylight. By midday, he’d seen nine does and two small bucks.

He also heard three gunshots within a half-mile that morning, and he fretted over the possibility that someone else had shot the drop-tined buck.

He left the woods at 11:30.

“I had some chores to do, so I went back to the house,” Sam said. “I asked Katie if she’d heard any news. She hadn’t.

“My friend, Luke Emberton, sent me a text around noon, asking if I was hunting. I replied that I had to run a couple errands, but I was going back. He sent another telling me I wouldn’t shoot anything while sitting at Arby’s.

“He was just egging me on,” he grinned.

Sam was in his stand by 1:30. At almost 5 p.m., he called his wife to tell her he was going to stick it out until dark.

“I also told her to call some friends and to get some fixins for chili. I thought we could get together, eat and play cards,” he said. “She told me to text some friends and she would do likewise.

“I was texting some hunting buddies when I heard a twig snap and looked across the gulley. As soon as I saw the rack, I pulled up the rifle and took a closer look through the scope. I never got nervous.”

Just as he thought, the deer’s rack sported two drop tines.

When Sam grunted to slow or stop the buck, it didn’t acknowledge the noise. A second grunt got its attention, but it kept walking.

“I knew it would be gone in another 30 yards, so I quickly scanned ahead and found a clear place where I could thread a bullet. I lined up my rifle and waited.

“When the buck cleared the last tree, I fired,” he continued. “I saw it kick, and was sure I’d hit it. It ran to the edge of a thicket and stopped to look back at me.”

Sam usually reloads quickly to be ready for a follow-up shot, but it never occurred to him that day. He might have been calm before he squeezed the trigger, but not afterward. His heart rate was through the roof, and he was shaking.

He just stood and watched the buck, wondering when it was going to fall. It didn’t, but it coughed — a good sign — before disappearing into the thicket.

Sam got down quickly and went to where the buck was standing when he shot. He couldn’t find any signs of a hit.

“I kept looking back at the stand, trying to pinpoint where the deer had stood, but I wasn’t having much luck,” he said. “Then I noticed a tree that had been split open by a bullet. I lined myself up with the hole and my stand, and then I found blood.”

Sam lost the trail twice. When he came upon skid marks in the leaves, he looked up and saw the deer had plowed into a nearby tree.

“I called my wife, who was at the grocery store, and told her I’d shot the buck. I also asked her to call the neighbors to get permission to cross their property to load it,” he said.

“My phone died before she got to me, but she found me. By the time we made it back to the farm, 10 or 12 vehicles were in the driveway.

“We never made chili, but we did order pizza and celebrated until 2:30 in the morning,” he added.

This article was published in the March 2018 edition of Rack Magazine. Subscribe today to have Rack Magazine delivered to your home.

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