By Sitka Ambassador Joe Cima

This bow season started out just like every other: hot and dry. I hunted the first week on some private ground in the high country, and ended up missing on a nice mule deer. With that miss, I needed a change of scenery, so I headed for eastern Oregon.

I usually set aside the first week for filling my deer tag, and after that it's time to chase elk. My first two days turned up tons of does and a few small bucks with no shot opportunities. 

On Sunday, September 3rd, I headed for higher ground in search of a big muley. I glassed for a few hours, laying eyes on over fifty does and fawns, but not a single buck. As the sun started its descent, I decided to head out so I’d still have shooting light just in case an unlikely buck appeared.

I was frustrated and kicking myself for missing that nice muley four days earlier. I thought I might have blown my opportunity, and being that it was the Sunday of the first week of the season, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be punching my deer tag unless I happened upon a buck while chasing elk. 

But just then, ahead of me, I saw a couple of whitetails headed down toward the river bottom. I eased my binos up and saw that three bucks led the group, followed by a pair of does and a pair of fawns. Seven deer. 

Now being from the west, I am a die-hard muley, elk and pronghorn hunter, but I have always wanted to shoot a whitetail. In the last ten years, the whitetail have been moving into eastern Oregon in large numbers, growing prevalent in the river bottoms and lowland pines. For the most part, their genetics aren't tops.

Still, about five years ago, I developed an itch to stick an Oregon flag tail. Anyone who has hunted whiteys knows they are wary, and their nose is second to none. In Oregon they are no different. I had pretty much given up on taking one, since in five years I only had one opportunity, and it was presented only after my tag had been punched.

But with the sighting of these deer, my hands started shaking and my mind was spinning. I had to make a plan to ambush these whitetail, and quick. The light was fading.

The bucks led the group over a hill, and just as the last fawn cleared, I grabbed my bow and took off on a sprint. I knew they would either head straight out to the river or, if I was lucky, move down the fence line. If they walked the fence, I might get my chance.

I ran down past where the whitetail had crossed, around 300 yards, and slowed to a crouched walk. I came to the crest of the hill and tried to stay below their line of sight. Finally, I reached the spot where I thought I might be able to get a look at them. I eased an arrow onto my string and clipped on my release.

Just then, I saw the first buck walking right down the fence line, half-hidden in some brush. I ducked down out of sight and moved forward another 30 yards, where I would have a clean shot – were it presented. I peeked over the tall grass and saw the two bucks in the clear. I tapped my rangefinder on the back one. Broadside, 62 yards.

I crouched down, eased my Elite Pure to full draw, and stood up. As soon as I stood, the bucks stopped. I took my time and settled my 60-yard pin low as I figured the buck would jump the string, and I needed to cut a couple yards due to the angle. I pressured my released, and the arrow was off. It held a perfect line, and I watched as the fletching dropped right into the pocket. The sound of a good hit. Immediately the buck spun a 180 and broke into a death sprint. 

Hooves pounded across the river rock, and I watched as six whitetails crossed the river. When they stopped to look back for number seven, I knew I had my buck.

With the light fading, I eased down to where the buck had been standing and found my GoldTip covered in blood. A massive 35-yard blood trail led to where my 2011 buck had piled up in the cattails along the river.

When I shot, I had no idea what his horns looked like. My headlamp illuminated the shadows of the reeds, along with eight pricks of bone above his head. There, along the river bottom, under a full moon, I knelt beside what is now my proudest trophy.