November 29th was the eve of the 2011 Kansas
firearms deer season. Kansas' archery season would go another couple of days, but it was my last real chance to fill an archery tag before
things were turned upside down. I sat motionless in my tree stand, day dreaming
about the close call from my morning hunt with a great non-typical mule deer. I
had been matching wits with the buck for several weeks and finally had him in a
great position to sneak in for a shot. Apparently, it was not meant to be
because as I slowly eased up to pinpoint his location, a hen pheasant erupted
in between the bedded buck and me. The flushing pheasant was enough to spook
the buck from his bed.
In between my trips to dreamland, I was keeping tabs on
several whitetail bucks that appeared to have a hot doe pinned down in a
distant pasture. None of the bucks were deer I would shoot, but it was
something to pass the time. I had drifted off again, replaying recent hunts
with the mule deer, when I saw movement in the bottom of the creek bed – a mature whitetail buck working my direction.
He walked slowly, stopped to groom himself, covered a few more yards and stuck his head into a bush,
raking his antlers on the spindly branches. I thought about shooting,
but there were too many twigs covering his vitals. The buck came out of the
bush and I thought he was going to stay in the bottom of the creek to work
several scrapes.
Instead, he turned and came up the trail that leads right
by my tree. When he disappeared behind a thick trunk in front of me, I hit full draw. He stepped silently out in my shooting lane, and I let out a grunt with my mouth. He stopped in perfect view. My arrow disappeared behind his shoulder, and he bounded off a short ways, still within sight when he tipped over.
