When you're a kid, and start into hunting, your dad buys the stuff you need to get the job done, spends the time with you practicing, and making sure you're ready for whatever comes at you. My dad always sacrificed his own season to make sure I was successful, but this year, I turned the tables.

I spent the entire year obtaining a new lease, putting in the time finding travel routes, feeding/bedding areas, hanging stands, trail cams, the works. Then, I hooked my dad up with everything he could possible imagine to make his attempt at his first archery buck, and mountable animal, as successful as it could possibly be. Full Sitka system, brand new bow with all the fixings, and a 250-acre lease exclusive to us for archery season.  

On October 25, I discovered the only active scrape line on the property, and used that next Wednesday with 50 mph winds and heavy rain to move a set to this location, knowing I shouldn't bounce any deer. We planned on hunting it Friday, and at first light we had two small spikes hit the scrapes. I was so upset that we did all that work, and these two spikes fooled us into thinking they were the big bucks that were marking the territory. Frustrated, I left the stand that morning with all intentions of not hunting that set in the evening.  But on a whim, I checked the trail camera I had placed over the scrape and observed a nice eight pointer freshening it up at 6:24 the night before.

We climbed back into the stand at 2:30 that afternoon and after a long sit, I heard crashing in the thicket in front of me. Four does appeared and were followed by the same eight pointer minutes later. The buck was following the does and broke off to check the scrape line and walked a mere ten yards from our set. Dad grunted to stop him and immediately shot, hitting him in mid stride about six inches back.

We waited an hour and I decided that backing out without even attempting to look for blood was the best option. The arrow told me it had been a liver shot, and we headed home for the longest night of our lives.  

The next morning, I took my three kids and my dad and we headed out to track.  After 120 yards, we found the buck. It was the most satisfying moment in my life, watching my dad at age 50, grab his first archery buck, and first deer for the wall.  We put the time in, we studied the land and the animals, and with a lot of prayer and a little luck, it made for a season that neither of us will ever forget about.