My bow was almost horizontal at times, as it swung back and forth like a pendulum in a huge grandfather clock. The 35 mile-an-hour winds that threatened to blow my bow off of its hanger, was making my cameraman and I hang on for dear life! The game plan this evening was to watch the picked cornfield, to get a visual on what was using this part of the property. This was our first night in Kansas…
Accepting an invite from a friend, I gained access to some property in southeast Kansas that turned out to be a Whitetail freak’s dream. The hardest part to killing big deer is finding them. If you can find a mature Whitetail buck and then find his core area, you are way ahead of the game! The farm that we were hunting had the deer and the habitat to keep them there. It turned out to be well worth the drive and worth enduring anything that Mother Nature wanted to dish out in our direction.
I host a hunting show called Wild Extremes I was hopeful that this hunt was going to turn out another great video deer hunt for the enjoyment of the fans of the show, as well as enabling them to live vicariously through me! So once again, the “Wild Extremes” crew was “hanging out” in inclement elements.
Time after time as I saw pictures in magazines of another great deer taken, or would get a phone call from a friend, saying, “I just shot a monster,” a lot of times the statement was followed by; “ Hey, it’s Kansas!” Kansas up until a few years ago had been off limits to nonresident deer hunters. A few short years ago the borders were opened and hunters from all across the country began to reap the rewards of a state that practices good deer management.
The rifle season opens up in the first part of December, a couple weeks after the frenzy of the first rut is over, so this correlates into the Kansas deer achieving that oh-so-important ingredient; age! Throw genetics, mineral supplements and food plots out the window if your bucks never get the chance to put some age on! So there we set with everything down to our toenails dug in for dear life!
The sun had moved well past it’s zenith, and was on its descent, creating a palette of colors that an accomplished artist would have struggled to duplicate. The fiery orange, and red hues made quite a backdrop for the chaotic wind driven clouds that writhed and twisted across the horizon. Shadows from the towering oaks began creeping across the corn stalks, as the first deer of the evening cautiously walked into view.
Once the first deer makes a move to go to the field, the rest of the herd palpably follow almost immediately. Tonight the floodgates were open! A steady stream of does poured into the field followed closely by a few small bucks. I caught sight of a large body back in the timber approaching the edge of the corn stubble and I whispered excitedly to my cameraman, “Is that a buck clear to the right?” He struggled to bring the camera to bear, fighting the howling wind and the swaying tree. He got the camera on the deer, and at 300 yards, what the naked eye couldn’t see, became evident through the lens of the camera.
“What did you say,” I asked? I was having a hard time hearing a reply over the violent wind. The cameraman’s strained whisper came back, “It’s a big buck, and I think he’s got a drop tine on his left side!” I grabbed the horns-time to make something happen!
I knew due to the elements I would have to put some muscle behind the horns. At the sound of the rattling antlers being smacked together, the buck’s head came up and he locked on our tree. Once again I ground the beams together, and then ripped the tines apart. Almost immediately the buck started loping toward our setup. At 100 yards he stopped, suddenly unsure of the situation. He stood resembling a statue, looking for the bucks that should have been under my tree stand. With no deer visible, he turned and trotted into the woods after the now excited does that were making their exit, leaving the field to three young bucks. The three young bucks were so engrossed in sparring, that they missed all of the excitement.
What a great victory for team Wild Extremes! Even though I had not released an arrow at that tremendous deer, we still got some cool footage to show you guys. What a great start to a hunt, but this was just the beginning; at this point I new I couldn’t let overconfidence jinx the hunt! I realized to kill this buck it would require a move or two! The key would be finding his bedding and staging areas; in short I had to start fitting the pieces of the puzzle together.
I had an idea of where the buck was spending the majority of his time, so we moved 600 yards back in the direction he had approached from. This was the last week in November and that meant there were fewer does to breed. The flurry of the first breeding cycle was winding down, at this time the mature bucks become more active looking for that last doe, thus they become more visible. At this point my plan was to try and predict the travel route that this monster preferred, hang my tree stand and let the law of averages take over.
Monday morning dawned clear and cold with the promise of deer moving in the transition phase between the dinner table and bedroom. When legal shooting light finally arrived, I picked up the horns and did a light rattling sequence just to get things started. Almost immediately a 3 year-old buck responded. He was packing non-typical antlers that were a testament to the genetics on this farm. He nosed around the base of our tree for several minutes and then wandered away, hoping to find that last receptive doe. I let him walk; as clique as it sounds, you can’t kill a monster if you settle for a lesser deer. Give that young buck with those great genetics two more years and there’s your monster!
Tuesday morning arrived finding us perched in that same tree waiting on the drop tine buck. With the twilight came the faint rustling sounds of a sleeping woods slowly opening one eye to greet the morning. The fluttering of tiny wings whistled past my ear, as a small songbird took flight to join the quarreling menagerie of birds, as one-by-one they awoke and readied for the day at hand. They were all hard at straightening out the local pecking order, when suddenly in a blur a doe ran through an opening in the brush 100 yards in front of me.
“Get the camera on,” I whispered. My cameraman had just turned the camera on and pointed it in the direction that the doe came from, when out stepped our drop tine buck! I knew no amount of calling was going to redirect that buck, but you have to try something! Using a bleat can and grunt tube was futile, but call I did-to no avail. Time to move!
Friday morning arrived and at this point I had moved nine times. The last move had occurred in the middle of the night on Thursday with the aide of a headlamp, when I felt the huge deer would be out feeding in the corn stubble and away from his bedding area. At last I felt I had us where we needed to be. With the wind blowing directly in my face and the thermals on the rise, I was confident that this morning if we had any close encounters we would pass the olfactory test.
Never disregard the wind when setting up on a mature deer, or actually any Whitetail for that matter! At times you can fool their eyes and ears, but never that nose. The cool late November breeze made me pull my facemask down to ward off the chill that comes with a predawn late fall morning. Soft gray light was just starting to give shape to the twisted limbs and trunks of the trees that surrounded our setup, when suddenly the silent woods exploded! The sounds of deer running mixed with bleats and tending grunts heralded the approach of Whitetails in the throes of the rut!
Although it was not yet legal shooting light, through the brush I could see long white tines shining like a beacon in the night! At just forty-yards a large doe led our huge drop tine buck past the tree stand at a trot. All I could do was to hope that the doe would retreat back to the bedding area and pull the buck in tow back past us. They were barely out of sight when another good P&Y class buck showed up and joined in the chase, followed closely by an 11/2 year old six point.
I had a pretty good idea that the doe would be back with my buck. The three bucks were pushing the doe out of the funnel that we were sitting in toward open hay fields.
When a doe is the sole recipient of the rut, typically they like to get into deep cover for the protection it affords. With my back against a dense bedding area, I was counting on her sneaking back to take advantage of the natural sanctuary. 45 minutes later, without a sound, the doe appeared and walked silently by-this time at just 20 yards. Only this time in good light, instead of 40 yards and in low light!
As quietly as possible I whispered, “Get the camera on!” Quickly looking behind her, I saw those long tines heading our way. The buck, with his nose to the ground, walked briskly, obviously wanting to keep the object of his affection in sight. Talk about adrenalin! I had to get the bow off of the hanger and get my release clipped on the string without alerting the tired doe that was practically under my feet!
At a snails pace I reached for the bow all the while trying to keep an eye on both the doe and the approaching buck. What a relief it was when I finally had my bow in hand and realized both deer were still totally unaware of our presence! My heart hammered in my ears as I slowly inched the bowstring back toward my face. As I drew the bow I simultaneously looked for a hole in the almost solid wall of brush the doe had just walked through-Success!
There was a small opening at 20 yards! Now to get him to stop long enough for me to pick a spot behind his front leg! “Baa,” I bleated with my voice as his head entered the small opening. He slammed on the brakes and swung that huge rack in my direction to identify the source of the sound. In most of these situations it’s not a conscience decision to drop my sight across the chest of an animal and pull the trigger of my release, so it’s almost startling to watch those yellow and orange vanes disappear behind the front leg of a great animal and this was a GREAT ANIMAL!
I touched the trigger and in a blink he was gone, swallowed up by the underbrush. I shakily hung the bow back on the hanger and sat down to collect what was left of my nerves. It was time to give thanks, and then reflect on what just happened.
An hour later holding the rack of the drop tine buck made all of the week’s hard fought battles in the trees worthwhile! What can I say but… “Hey, it’s Kansas!”
Tags: Wild Extreme Nathan Jones Kansas Whitetail Deer Buck
