redline410
New member
During 2009 my dad found a coues buck that pretty much drove him to the brink of insanity. Throughout the summer he watch this buck grow a bigger and better set-o-antlers and as October approached, his dream buck went A-Rod and disappeared. We ended up taking some decent deer that year but he was still haunted by that buck.
By the time we were ready for the 2010 season, he had seen this buck no fewer than twenty times, and I have the text messages to prove it. Dude would text me pictures from his scouting trips with school girl giddiness. He found a few other bucks he thought I'd like to take but I had already decided I'd do everything I could to help him find his buck even if it took the entire hunt. Opening morning was a total bust, with only a few doe and some busted egos. We sat around the camp fire that night discussing trying a new spot to see if he moved but with zero pressure I told him to give it one more shot, the worst that could happen was we'd have to hunt a different spot in the afternoon.
That following morning, well before shooting light, I heard one of the shakiest "Bud I see a deer" I had ever heard. Dad described what he was looking at, I got the white spot in the binoculars and stared like I was catatonic. As the sun continued to rise and add detail to the mountain side, I saw those signature brow tines and tried to remain calm. after last season, the debacle that ensued when he thought the buck he killed was the big boy I did everything I could to keep emotions in check. "Dad, be cool and breath. Its him and we have all day" I told him. Gun came out and the search for a rest was frantic. rocks, tree limbs, kneeling, sitting- it was crazy! I grabbed my pack and his pack and stacked them on a nice little flat spot and directed him to get comfortable. At this point I was going to back up his shot but didn't have a rest either. I took another look in the glass to see what the buck was doing before I made any stupid decisions and the old man whispered "I got him lined up, should I take it?" in just as calm voice as there was. "If you have him, send it" I told him....
kind of a strange thing, I never heard the rifle go off just the WHOOOOP- saw the buck jump and kick like a bronc. he took a few quick steps so I suggested dude cycle another round. The buck side stepped, wobbled and went pinchers up....After the last twich, I let the emotions go. I was damn proud of my dad for what he had just done. A few high fives, a great big hug and some colorful words descibing the victory and his pursuit was over...
The five inch borw tines were a dead give away
My old man and I with his trophy
That little kicker was a pretty distinctive traight too
The rest of the trip seemed rather anticlimactic- I did manage to put a jack stomping on this little guy Sunday night and in the process relocated a buck we affectionately dubbed "High Two". High Two is now on the clock..... Next October is going to be a blast......
Peace,
Dave
By the time we were ready for the 2010 season, he had seen this buck no fewer than twenty times, and I have the text messages to prove it. Dude would text me pictures from his scouting trips with school girl giddiness. He found a few other bucks he thought I'd like to take but I had already decided I'd do everything I could to help him find his buck even if it took the entire hunt. Opening morning was a total bust, with only a few doe and some busted egos. We sat around the camp fire that night discussing trying a new spot to see if he moved but with zero pressure I told him to give it one more shot, the worst that could happen was we'd have to hunt a different spot in the afternoon.
That following morning, well before shooting light, I heard one of the shakiest "Bud I see a deer" I had ever heard. Dad described what he was looking at, I got the white spot in the binoculars and stared like I was catatonic. As the sun continued to rise and add detail to the mountain side, I saw those signature brow tines and tried to remain calm. after last season, the debacle that ensued when he thought the buck he killed was the big boy I did everything I could to keep emotions in check. "Dad, be cool and breath. Its him and we have all day" I told him. Gun came out and the search for a rest was frantic. rocks, tree limbs, kneeling, sitting- it was crazy! I grabbed my pack and his pack and stacked them on a nice little flat spot and directed him to get comfortable. At this point I was going to back up his shot but didn't have a rest either. I took another look in the glass to see what the buck was doing before I made any stupid decisions and the old man whispered "I got him lined up, should I take it?" in just as calm voice as there was. "If you have him, send it" I told him....
kind of a strange thing, I never heard the rifle go off just the WHOOOOP- saw the buck jump and kick like a bronc. he took a few quick steps so I suggested dude cycle another round. The buck side stepped, wobbled and went pinchers up....After the last twich, I let the emotions go. I was damn proud of my dad for what he had just done. A few high fives, a great big hug and some colorful words descibing the victory and his pursuit was over...
The five inch borw tines were a dead give away
My old man and I with his trophy
That little kicker was a pretty distinctive traight too
The rest of the trip seemed rather anticlimactic- I did manage to put a jack stomping on this little guy Sunday night and in the process relocated a buck we affectionately dubbed "High Two". High Two is now on the clock..... Next October is going to be a blast......
Peace,
Dave
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