BUCK DETAILS

Growing up on my family's farm, I have seen many changes in deer hunting over the years, especially in archery gear. For example, you rarely hear the term overdraw today, but it was once all the rage. The latest and greatest innovations of today are dinosaurs to the next generation.

Archery is a passion that started when I got my first compound bow, an Alpine Colt, at the age of 4. I've always been obsessed with what the new year would bring in new archery products, and trips to the grocery store inevitably included time at the magazine rack, flipping through pages of hunting titles to see what was new.

It occurred to me some years ago that compound bows are like computers and smartphones: If you don't stay up with technology, it will quickly pass you by.

Even as I obsessed over gear, I realized all that technology is not required. Bowhunters have been taking giant bucks long before compounds, and the stories about our forebearers' woodsmanship are legendary.

As much as I love new gear, I was equally determined to hone my skills. I lived to bowhunt, and I hadn't lost a bit of that passion as I aged into my 30s.

Then, in the spring of 2020, about the time I was at the peak of my hunting career, everything got turned upside down when I was severely injured in a work accident.

It was life-changing and brought my archery obsession to a screeching halt. I didn't know if I would ever return to the deer woods or sit in a treestand again, and those thoughts weighed heavily during the months of physical therapy. As time passed, I began to think hunting wasn't as important as it used to be.

After several surgeries, I knew I would never be able to bowhunt the way I used to. When fall arrived, there was no chance I would be able to hunt, let alone go out with a bow.

Sensing my melancholy, my dad and brothers helped me put out trail cameras so I could take part in some normal fall activities. It wasn't long before I noticed a young 10-pointer. Something about this buck didn't seem right.

The year before, I had established a mock scrape along a field edge, and that's where we placed one of my cameras. I have used ropes in the past to hold scent, but we had tied a corn cob to the licking branch over this one. The 10-pointer loved it.

Typical of adolescent bucks, he was very predictable. With so many pictures, we were quick to see he had an indentation on the left side of his back, and he was thin and small in his hindquarters. I couldn't help thinking the little buck looked more messed up than I was.

Fast-forward to spring and summer 2021. I underwent yet another surgery, and in a week or so, I was home but had to wear a medical brace. Again sensing my depression, my father drove out to some of our ag fields.

Just getting out of the house was nice, and as he drove to the field with the mock scrape, I spotted a shed antler. Sitting in the truck, I shot a video of me with my brace while Dad picked up the antler. It was the right side of the 10-pointer, and after watching that buck last fall, it felt like a real accomplishment.

I was still in physical therapy two or three days each week. We had a cellular camera on the mock scrape and replaced the corn cob, which was still zip-tied to the limb, with a rope.

Bucks were still in velvet when we started to get our first pictures, and one showed a buck with an exceptionally long drop tine on its left side. Additional pictures confirmed what I was thinking: The buck had an obvious back injury. It was the young 10, which immediately earned him the name Drop Tine.

He was still a mainframe 10-pointer, but he'd added a kicker on his right antler along with the drop tine on the left.
The buck posed for some interesting pictures. The drop tine grew in an outward direction and was so long he could scratch the indentation on his back. He eventually rubbed off all the hair in the wound area.

Not being able to get out, I had never seen the deer in person, but my father jumped it from a tractor. I also knew other locals were seeing the deer, and I wondered every day if I would hear about somebody getting Drop Tine.

Meanwhile, the physical therapy seemed to be helping, and I was improving in some aspects. I asked my doctor, a bowhunter, about the possibility of using a crossbow. He gladly granted permission, so I gathered 25 years worth of archery equipment and bows and traded it all for a crossbow.

Folks on social media express a lot of negativity toward crossbows. I had always seen them as an inconvenience compared to a compound. It had crossed my mind that I might someday need to use a crossbow, but I figured it would be when I was much older.

Although that day came quicker than I expected, I felt a familiar passion at the thought of getting back in the woods. That feeling was stoked when a neighbor recovered Drop Tine's matching sheds. He had survived through the 2021 season.

We put out cameras in the summer of 2022, and Drop Tine was back in velvet. He still had the long drop and was a youngster no longer. He had gotten over his injuries quicker than I was healing from mine.

The buck still loved his corn-cob scrape, but he was obviously more cautious. He wasn't visiting as frequently, and he always approached from downwind. Sometimes he wouldn't go to the scrape but would scent-check it in passing.

Toward the end of summer, conditions were warm and dry, and my family found two dead mature bucks. As we feared, EHD was present on the farm. Drop Tine had disappeared for more than a month, so we rejoiced when he showed up again on the scrape.

As bow season approached, other bucks began to visit the scrape, and Drop Tine was sure to rework it afterward. Armed with a crossbow and my doctor's blessing, I was going to hunt that deer.

My father set me up a ground blind near the scrape. I needed a tripod to support the crossbow and knew it would take a near miracle for the setup to work. Also, I couldn't hunt any time I wanted to; I had to be sure someone would be available to recover the deer if I shot one.

With limited hunting time and zero ability to scout, I had to rely on trail cameras. As rut activity started in late October, I found myself waiting. The property is small with less than an acre of trees, but it forms a natural pinch point. One night after two bucks worked the scrape, Drop Tine bedded nearby and kept an eye out for intruders. That was an important clue, and I figured he was likely staying in the area.

I finally got a picture of Drop Tine going to bed just minutes before dark. It was the closest thing to a daylight picture since 2020. With friends visiting and hunting that week, I knew help was available. That evening, I parked my truck behind the neighbor's standing corn and walked the short distance to the ground blind. I saw several deer that evening, but not Drop Tine.

The next morning, he was a no-show, and I didn't get any additional pictures. The thermometer said it was 73 degrees that evening, but I followed my gut and went out.

About an hour before dark, a doe stepped out of the tree line. A buck followed about a minute behind her. I didn't know if it was Drop Tine, but I could tell it was big.

I adjusted the tripod and crossbow to the other window. A quick look through binoculars confirmed it was Drop Tine. It was the first time I'd seen the deer in person.

The doe turned and walked toward me with the buck mirroring her every move. When she walked through one of my shooting lanes, I realized it was really going to happen.

I made a soft whistle, and Drop Tine stopped and looked at the blind. By the time our eyes met, the bolt was already in flight. I watched the lighted nock disappear into brown fur in slow motion. I have harvested many bucks with a compound bow, but there was something special about that shot.

I heard a crash just after he went out of sight, but I still couldn't believe I had just shot the biggest buck of my life. I got out of the blind and went to where he was standing and saw him expired on the hill.

I called my father and stuttered out, “I got him.” When he arrived, we knew we needed help. Thank God for my friends and family. If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't have been out there in the first place. They field-dressed the buck and drug it out for me, and I'm thankful they were there to celebrate with me.

I had the shed from 2020, and the neighbor brought over the matched set from 2021. Drop Tine had put on quite a few inches as he got older.

The next day, the guys returned to help cape and butcher the buck, and we finally got to see his injuries. He had only half a tenderloin on his left side, and there was a knot of bone in his spine. His head and nose were large and disfigured as well, and the taxidermist later said the entire nose was made up of scar tissue.

Looking back, I realized we both had been injured in the spring of 2020. We endured some life changing injuries, but we pushed on. We also healed as best we could, knowing we would never be the same. When we finally met on Nov. 3, it was like seeing an old friend. The years were as hard on him as they were on me.

Something about that injured 10-pointer kept me going. He gave me a goal and kept my mind from giving in to darkness. This deer didn't teach me as much about hunting as it did about struggle and life. We had a connection that was more than just hunter and prey, and it was ironic that we shared some of the same injuries.

I wish I could talk about putting in long hours and hunts chasing this giant. He's worthy of a tale filled with missed opportunities and close encounters, but it all came down to a brief meeting on a hot November evening. While the hunt was rather easy, what that deer and I had to go through to get to that moment was anything but.

Special thanks to Andy, Dusty, Evan, Jared, Brian, Jessy and David.