NebraskaWhitetail
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Since it's a cool evening in Nebraska, and a good night for reading tales of giant bucks, here's another whitetail from Nebraska that continues to inspire. The story below by D i c k Idol is one of the greatest hunt stories I've ever read, and those who haven't see it before (as well as those who have) are sure to in for a treat. Enjoy!
THE DEL AUSTIN BUCK
Del Austin's No. 1 Non-Typical By Bowhunting
(source: http://www.whitetails.com/deer701.jpg)
written by D i c k Idol
Throughout the last 10 years I've researched and written stories on many of the best whitetail bucks ever taken. I've also heard the stories of how various other world-class bucks were bagged by hunters. Among all of these bucks and their stories, very few were taken by dedicated hunters who knew of the bucks' presence and hounded them for any substantial length of time. The story of old "Mossy Horns," even though his most relentless pursuer was not the fortunate hunter to take him, is perhaps the most classic saga of a big-buck hunt that's occurred.
The account of this hunt, which stretched out over a period of more than five years, points out a lesson to us all about the incredible capability of a mature buck to survive against seemingly impossible odds. At times, four to six guys hunted this buck almost daily in a river bottom where cover was thick but r
elatively small by comparison to the sprawling countryside away from the river basin. There were periods of months and once nearly a year when the deer was not seen by pursuers, even though they looked long and hard. It was a cat-and-mouse game, and the cat knew exactly where the mouse lived. Yet, this great buck very nearly died of old age, as he was at least 9 years old when finally taken.
But for me, perhaps the most significant element of this entire drama is the insight it offers into the life of a world-class buck. Rarely is there any account over an extended period through which one can get to know such a buck and how he survives on a daily and yearly basis. To get to know a big buck on a personal basis is to me the essence of whitetail hunting anyway.
This story began sometime before 1958, along the Platte River south of Shelton, Nebraska. The countryside here is basically open prairie and farmland which rolls for seemingly endless miles. Cover lies at the bottom of ravines and gullies, with most of the larger areas of cover being located along major tributaries and the Platte River itself. Because of the fertile soil in the delta, a substantial amount of farmland also follows the winding river bottom.
The Platte River is large and wide, but relatively shallow. Much of the river features islands of various shapes and sizes. Some are small, house-sized land masses, while others stretch for more than a mile in length. Most are choked with heavy underbrush, including willows, and some have large cottonwoods. Much of the edge of the river itself is covered with the same types of trees and brush. This habitat generally is large enough to hold deer, even under pressure. When disturbances become too frequent and cover too marginal, deer take to the open spaces away from the river and remain there until after the season.
During '58, rumors began to leak out about a giant buck with a "weird" rack that lived on the river and had been seen on the farm of Dan Thomas. This buck's most relentless pursuer turned out to be local bowhunter Al Dawson, who had heard the rumors. Al at the time lived in Hastings, which is about 30 miles southeast of Shelton.
During those years, Al worked as a salesman for a meat-packing house. He was 31 at the time and recently had taken up bowhunting. His first season he packed around a 57-pound bow and three arrows and was so taken with the sport that he totally gave up gun hunting. This fact alone probably accounted for the fact that the buck survived so many seasons.
Dan Thomas was a friend of Al, and this area was a favorite haunt where Al especially enjoyed hunting. The real story began on one of Al's first trips to the farm. He had just walked across a freshly cut cornfield to look for fresh sign. He stopped at a fence to look over an adjoining alfalfa field and the timbered river bottom beyond. Just as he began to move on, he caught a glimpse of movement and noticed that five or six deer had broken out of the timber and were heading straight for him.
Few other stories in whitetail-hunting history can equal this one for sheer excitement, disappointment and final glory. Fittingly, the buck that resulted from all of this effort is in a class by himself. by thingy Idol
In the lead was a tremendous buck, the likes of which Al never had seen before. Not only was the deer huge, with a massive, gigantic rack, but the antlers were also the strangest and "queerest" set he'd ever seen. Al recalls: "There were heavy, scraggly points, long and short, growing from the main beams in all directions. Strangest of all, he had two long prongs curving out and down on either side of his head, between eye and ear. They extended below his jaws, giving him an odd, lop-eared' appearance."
At that point Al knew he was looking at a trophy of a lifetime and one that would go well into the record book. But because the deer's body was so large (an estimated live weight between 350 and 400 pounds), Al at the time didn't realize the rack was as large as it was.
It appeared the approaching deer were going to cross the fence on the trail where Al stood. He had been caught in the open, so he risked taking a couple of steps backwards, sank to one knee and nocked an arrow.
By now, the buck and other deer had approached to within 50 or 60 yards, but suddenly the buck swerved off to the side. Al knew the wind was in his favor, so he presumed the buck had caught his movement as he knelt. The hunter felt he was well hidden in the tall weeds, but the buck had sensed something was wrong.
Finally, the buck cleared the fence 70 yards from Al, stopped broadside and looked directly at him. Al knew he wasn't going to come closer, so he decided to take a shot. The arrow fell short, and the buck whirled to lead the entire group of deer back to the same wooded bottom they had departed only minutes before.
Al retrieved his arrow and followed the huge tracks across the field for a distance. He knew there would be no hope for another shot now, so he finally left the tracks and headed back to his car. That morning, the name "Mossy Horns" came to him, as it seemed to fit that irregular set of antlers. (Today, this name is still attached to the deer.) That same morning, Al also vowed he'd keep after that buck until the great trophy was his.
Al knew the stories that had circulated around the neighborhood about the "big, unusual buck" would bring other competition - both bow and gun hunters. But he would virtually live with this buck, as he knew it offered him a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
He hunted the remainder of the bow season, which ended after Christmas, and had a half-dozen chances at lesser deer. On each occasion, the thought of Mossy Horns kept him from shooting, as he knew once his single deer tag had been filled he'd be through for the season. If he waited, there was always a chance. As it turned out, he did see the huge buck twice more that season, but both times he was too far for a shot.
During that '58 season, Al had hunted the buck alone. But the following season he would be joined by a couple of fellow bowhunters. Gene Halloran, a retired farmer, and Charley Marlowe, a Hastings advertising executive and the only member of their Oregon Trail Bowhunters Club who had killed a deer with a bow up to that time, also would become obsessed with the hunt for Mossy Horns.
Three times the buck stopped to thrash trees with his rack, and each time Al crept closer.
By now Dan, who owned the farm where the buck spent much of his time, had developed his own reasons for wanting the buck dead. A couple of years earlier, he'd planted 50 young spruce trees for a windbreak about 30 yards from his house, and the big buck had taken on the responsibility of destroying all of them. In one season he'd demolished all 50 with his antlers, and every one had died.
One advantage for these hunters was the fact that this buck lived in a constricted type of habitat He always seemed to stick to the heavy cover along the river, which at least helped narrow the choices of where he could be found. On the other hand, this relatively narrow band of cover was broken by sloughs, islands and channels, and most of the cover was thick, a mixture of cottonwoods, willow tangles, weeds and tall grass. Yes, the buck lived along the river, but the cover was tough to hunt, and the river stretched for miles. Furthermore, hunting was made even more difficult by the water, which was often deep and half-frozen. Both facts made access very difficult.
In the fall of '59, Al, Charley and Gene built tree blinds in a half-dozen locations. In those days portable tree stands were just being developed, so their ambush sites consisted of small platforms built in trees, 10 to 20 feet from the ground.
Perhaps because of the stand-building activity or the intense hunting pressure that followed, most of the archery season passed without anyone even glimpsing the buck. By now, the old second-guessing game had begun. Charley shot a doe and quit hunting. Al finally resigned himself to the possibility that the buck had moved to another area or was dead, as poaching did occur in the area. Or, a natural mishap could have occurred.
By now it was November, but Al kept hunting. Then, late one evening, he saw Mossy Horns about 150 yards away, following a slough. His movement was extremely slow and cautious, but if he didn't change courses he would walk past Al, well out of range. Several times he stopped at the edge of thickets to test the wind and listen for danger. This was the first time Al had seen him this year, and it appeared his rack was nearly identical to the one the deer had worn the previous season.
As expected, the buck passed out of range, and Al decided he had nothing to lose by trying to stalk close enough for a shot. There was a hard wind blowing from the deer to Al, and there was enough brush that he just might get lucky.
For a half-mile Al moved along on the most careful stalk he'd ever made in his life. Three times the buck stopped to thrash trees with his huge rack, and each time Al crept closer. On two separate occasions he was in range, but there was too much brush between them. Finally, the buck paused at the edge of a thicket to work over another willow clump just 25 yards from Al. Two steps around a willow clump and he'd have an open shot. Just then a dry twig broke under Al's foot, and the buck was gone.
Al did not see him again until the evening of the final day of the season. As he walked from the bottom at dusk, realizing the buck had eluded him for another season, he noticed a dark form standing in the open. He finally made out the white throat patch and huge antlers as the buck stood calmly, watching him from just out of range. Instantly he turned and disappeared into the night, as if it had some symbolic meaning to the end of another season.
Al muttered aloud to himself, "Okay, Mossy. Next year will be different."
During the summer of 1960, which now was the third year Al would hunt Mossy Horns, he kept track of the buck's whereabouts. Dan, who often was working in the fields along the river, saw Mossy about once a month, and it was always near his hangout along the Platte River bottoms. In addition to Al and his two buddies, Charley Marlowe and Gene Holloran, a fourth bowhunter joined the group. A warehouse manager from Hastings, Del Austin was an enthusiastic convert to bowhunting and would hunt with the group for the next three seasons.
By the time the bow opener rolled around on Sept. 10, all members of the group knew Mossy was alive and well, and everyone felt confident they had his travel pattern down cold. Stands had been built long before the season. Al had one particular stand near the corner of a cornfield where it joined the bottoms. Here he had found numerous fresh tracks which he felt could belong only to Mossy, and here he resolved to sit until the great buck showed.
For seven weeks Al sat in the stand every chance he had, and progressively he grew more impatient. Then, one cool afternoon toward the end of October, two bucks stepped into the cornfield about 200 yards down the fence line from his stand. They were certainly not in the class of Mossy, but they were good bucks, and it had been a long dry spell. Once they had disappeared into the standing corn, Al climbed down and began to stalk the bucks.
The hunter had gone about 70 yards when for some unknown reason he looked back toward his stand. He was stunned as he saw Mossy Horns standing under it! The gigantic buck stared toward Al, not sure what he was. Finally, though, as Mossy walked to the side, he caught Al's scent and was gone without a sound.
The following week, Charley was in his stand when four deer walked past. He too succumbed to temptation and arrowed a young buck, which promptly ran into the cornfield and dropped. That would fill Charley's one deer tag for the year. But before Charley even could climb down, Mossy stepped out of the brush and stood broadside at 30 yards. Finally he blew and ran back toward the river. Afterwards, Charley made the statement that he was glad when the buck finally ran, because a man can only take so much temptation!
Near the end of that same season, Al had yet another chance at Mossy. This time his wife, Velma, was sitting in another tree, about 50 yards from where Al sat. The afternoon hunt was virtually over, and Al was getting ready to climb down. But the snap of a twig froze him as he looked over the brush. Mossy was walking slowly toward Al with short, cautious steps.
Al let the buck walk beneath his stand and a short distance beyond. The bowhunter was at full draw when the buck passed, and Al shot for the front shoulder. The arrow hit with a solid "thud," and the buck instantly flinched and bolted. Beneath the stand where Velma sat, a woven wire fence was nailed to the tree. As the buck crashed away, he hit the fence and nearly knocked her from her stand. But the buck kept going.
In the poor light Al and Velma looked for blood, but could find none. Finally, they decided to return to Dan's house for 30 minutes, then return with a flashlight to look further. Al still remembers that as being the longest 30 minutes of his life.
These shed antlers were picked up in early 1962 by farmer Dan Thomas. It's generally assumed that they are from the '60 season, but Del Austin, who eventually shot the buck in the fall of '62, believes they were on the buck's head in the fall of '61. Photo by Tom Evans.
When they returned, they found where the buck had crashed into the fence; they also recovered the feathered end of his arrow, without any blood on it. Even after further search the next day, they found no trace of blood or the buck.
Al was haunted the rest of the season by the concern that he might have killed the buck. Did he crawl into a thicket and die, or could he have died in the river, never to be seen again? During the last week of the season, Al filled his tag with an 8-point, 160-class buck, which was his first deer with a bow and his third ever. The season ended without any other sightings of Mossy.
During the summer of'61, Dan did not see Mossy the entire summer. This was unusual, as he had seen the deer every year for the past three summers. It appeared Al's arrow could have killed the buck, or he simply might have died of old age. From the size of his racks in '58, he now was presumed to be at least 8 years old.
As the season got under way, it lacked the same appeal for Al. He now "deer" hunted instead of hunting for Mossy Horns. Partway through the season, Del shot a doe - his first deer - and Velma got an 8-pointer. Everyone in Al's party had quit hunting, but he kept at it, although his heart wasn't in it.
One bitterly cold afternoon late in the season, Al again was sitting in his old stand where he'd shot at Mossy the previous season. Just before dark, he spotted a button buck making his way through the willows about 100 yards off. Following him was a larger buck, and behind that one was the buck Al never expected to see again: Mossy Horns.
Suddenly, the season took on an entirely new dimension, as Al's pulse soared. The monster buck moved as cautiously as ever while he worked his great rack through the willow bushes. His rack looked the same as before, and if anything, even bigger. The wind was icy cold, but in spite of that, Al began to sweat.
Before dark, the two other bucks headed out into the field, but couldn't get through a deep snowdrift. Finally, they turned in the opposite direction of Al and went around the drift into the field. The big buck remained in the willows.
Within a few minutes, a half-dozen does came out under Al's stand and began feeding. Soon, two younger bucks joined the does, and all eight fed under his stand until dark. Mossy finally entered the field just before dark, but would come nowhere near Al's stand. It was as if he remembered the shot from a year earlier - and he probably did.
During the entire year, that was the only time anyone laid eyes on him, as far as Al knew. The buck was definitely being seen less and less often each year. Again, another season had ended, with no hunter even getting a crack at him.
In the spring of '62, Dan had the good fortune to find a matching pair of shed antlers from Mossy in the bottom not far from where Al and the others had been hunting the buck. Now, there was proof that the buck was as big as Al had claimed. (Only one other hunter in Al's group even had seen the buck in four years!) Al had believed Mossy was a new world record during that period, but he'd had no proof. Now the proof was in hand.
The next 10 minutes seemed like 10 hours, as neither hunter nor hunted moved a muscle.
The giant sheds had a drop point off one base that measured 11 inches, and another on the opposite base that was 13 inches long. Approximating the inside spread, the rack would have scored in excess of 281 non-typical points, which would have shattered the standing archery world record.
As it turned out, the sheds probably were from the previous year - the '60 hunting season - which was the year Al thought he had hit the buck. Near the end of one of the long, clublike drop tines off the burrs was what appeared to be a three-edged broadhead mark that had penetrated the antler about a half-inch in depth! Instead of the arrow hitting the shoulder, as had been intended, it apparently hit the unlikely antler tip. This also would account for the buck's excessive crashing and hitting the fence, as he was temporarily stunned from the shock. (It should be noted that Del Austin believes the sheds actually are from the '61 season.)
As the hunt for Mossy entered its fifth year for Al ('62), he decided that if he couldn't get to the big buck, he would bring the deer to him. For weeks in the summer he cut trails through the heavy brush in places where he'd seen the buck most often and built tree stands at the most likely crossings. Then, starting a full month before bow season, Al kept away from the area to allow the deer time to get used to the changes.
That fall, the hunting party grew by two additional hunters, making the party a total of six. Kenny Whitesel, another farmer living near Hastings, and Charley Marlowe's 16-year-old son Chad now rounded out the group. Again, no one had seen Mossy during the summer, and Al wondered if his rack would remain large. By now, they figured he was at least 9 years old.
It was not too long into the season when Al got his answer. At the time, construction was underway on Interstate 80, which was to run along the edge of the Platte River and on the north side of the bottoms where Mossy lived. Because of construction, the river had been temporarily dammed upstream. One day, as Al walked the dry riverbed, he found the fresh, unmistakable tracks of Mossy. The buck was traveling to an alfalfa field. Al backtracked to a small island choked with willows and jumped the buck at close range. As he crashed away, his rack looked as big as ever.
During the next few days. Al was careful to keep away from the island and the primary trails the buck was using. One evening, while he sat in a tree where a runway crossed a big slough, several does walked under his stand, followed by an 8-point buck that stopped to rub his antlers on a bush. Mossy showed up just after the smaller buck, but eventually moved off without coming close enough for a shot. That same week Al had one more distant look at the buck.
The following week Mossy was not seen, so Al searched the dry river bed again, to see what the buck was doing. Here he found a trail the buck had not been using previously. Bow season was drawing to an end, so Al decided to set up a new stand as a last-ditch effort. A nine-day rifle season would begin soon, and too many other hunters knew of the legendary Mossy. He would be lucky to survive the gun season.
Del Austin poses with Mossy Horns after the kill. Hunting buddy Al Dawson and others had spent portions of five seasons in pursuit of this great non-typical~ but the animal kept defying the odds until Del set up a portable tree stand late one afternoon in October 1962. A 20-yard shot as shooting light faded downed the 279 7/8-point monster. Photo courtesy of Del Austin.
On Al's first evening in the new blind, an hour before dark, he saw the great buck slip out of the willows on an island and head his way. Mossy crossed the dry channel and walked to within 15 yards of Al's stand. The wind was right, and it appeared it was all over but the shot.
But, as always before, something went wrong. First, the buck stopped in brush so heavy that Al could make out only his outline. The next 10 minutes seemed like 10 hours, as neither hunter nor hunted moved a muscle. Finally, the buck circled the tree at 20 yards, but he never left the brush for a clear shot. Mossy finally stood not 20 feet from Al's stand, where a fence came down to the river, but it just wasn't right. For another 10 minutes the buck stood stone still, then jumped the fence and walked into the alfalfa field. Now he stood broadside at 45 yards, and Al sent an arrow just over his back. The buck disappeared with one long jump.
The bow season was nearly closed; it was the last afternoon in October. Al and Gene got to the bottoms early and chose their stands. Del and Charley left Hastings after work, knowing they'd have less than an hour before dark, but figured they would get in a last-minute hunt.
Originally, Del had planned to sit in one of Al's stands, but feared he couldn't find it on short notice. So, he brought along a portable platform that could be erected quickly. Del placed the stand on a large island that was very thick. He knew it would have to be a close shot, so he liberally sprinkled buck lure on the ground all around his tree.
He stood on the platform until just before dark and was starting to get down. A loud crash from upwind caught his attention, and he quickly nocked an arrow. It was getting dark, but he could tell that the buck that stepped from the thicket was big. For some reason, the big buck ran toward Del and stopped 20 yards from the tree, turning slightly broadside. Del drew his 45-pound Oneida recurve and drove a Bear Razorhead behind the shoulder of the buck. The deer turned and went running off.
Al and some of the other hunters waited until an hour after dark for Del, but still he hadn't returned. Finally, with flashlights, they headed toward the river and met Del halfway. He related his story, but wasn't sure if the buck he'd shot was Mossy Horns or another buck.
The hunters found the trail easily, as there was a lot of blood. It appeared Del had made a hard hit; they found the broken arrow, which had been snapped off 10 inches above the head. For three hours the hunters trailed the buck through slough grass and willow thickets until the blood and their flashlights were nearly gone. They decided it would be best to wait until morning to continue the search.
The next morning, within 100 yards of where they had stopped the previous evening, they found the buck lying dead in a clump of willows. He was indeed Mossy Horns! It was a bittersweet moment for Al Dawson. The 5-year quest had ended with someone else taking "his" buck. On the other hand, one of his buddies had been fortunate, and that was reason enough for celebration.
Mossy Horns was showing signs of age. He had no fat on his body, and his loins were sunken. Yet, he still dressed 240 pounds, and Al felt sure he would have been 60 pounds heavier during earlier years.
His rack was not quite as massive as in previous years, but he still scored 279 7/8 points when measured by Glenn St. Charles, an official Pope and Young scorer. At the time, this buck was the second-largest non-typical in the world, and the new world-record archery non-typical. It's hard to imagine that his sheds were even larger, but they were.
The Austin buck has 21 scorable points on the right antler, 18 on the left. Greatest spread is an impressive 29 5/8 inches, 21 3/8 inside. The main beams are 27 7/8 and 28 1/8.
As a typical 5x5 the buck grosses 191 3/8 points and nets 184 5/8. This net total, added to the 95 2/8 total inches of abnormal points, yields the final score of 279 7/8. Whether viewed as a non-typical or a typical, this buck has world-class dimensions and is a fitting world record for Pope and Young.
For just another twist or two of fate, this buck might have died of old age. There is certainly a lesson to be learned from this account. Bucks that reach this level of maturity and experience are surely the most difficult animals in the world to kill. Can you imagine how many times this buck would have been seen by a few casual hunters who didn't know he even existed? We never can underestimate the cunning and survivability of mature whitetail bucks.
(Editor's Note: At this writing, Al Dawson has opened a new bowhunting-only whitetail guide service in Missouri. For more information, contact: Al Dawson, HCR 3, Box 658, Gainesville, MO 65655. Phone: (417) 679-4167.)[/i]
[Story source: ]http://ww2.basspro.com/promos/legendarybucks/storypage2.cfm]
THE DEL AUSTIN BUCK
Del Austin's No. 1 Non-Typical By Bowhunting
(source: http://www.whitetails.com/deer701.jpg)
written by D i c k Idol
Throughout the last 10 years I've researched and written stories on many of the best whitetail bucks ever taken. I've also heard the stories of how various other world-class bucks were bagged by hunters. Among all of these bucks and their stories, very few were taken by dedicated hunters who knew of the bucks' presence and hounded them for any substantial length of time. The story of old "Mossy Horns," even though his most relentless pursuer was not the fortunate hunter to take him, is perhaps the most classic saga of a big-buck hunt that's occurred.
The account of this hunt, which stretched out over a period of more than five years, points out a lesson to us all about the incredible capability of a mature buck to survive against seemingly impossible odds. At times, four to six guys hunted this buck almost daily in a river bottom where cover was thick but r
elatively small by comparison to the sprawling countryside away from the river basin. There were periods of months and once nearly a year when the deer was not seen by pursuers, even though they looked long and hard. It was a cat-and-mouse game, and the cat knew exactly where the mouse lived. Yet, this great buck very nearly died of old age, as he was at least 9 years old when finally taken.
But for me, perhaps the most significant element of this entire drama is the insight it offers into the life of a world-class buck. Rarely is there any account over an extended period through which one can get to know such a buck and how he survives on a daily and yearly basis. To get to know a big buck on a personal basis is to me the essence of whitetail hunting anyway.
This story began sometime before 1958, along the Platte River south of Shelton, Nebraska. The countryside here is basically open prairie and farmland which rolls for seemingly endless miles. Cover lies at the bottom of ravines and gullies, with most of the larger areas of cover being located along major tributaries and the Platte River itself. Because of the fertile soil in the delta, a substantial amount of farmland also follows the winding river bottom.
The Platte River is large and wide, but relatively shallow. Much of the river features islands of various shapes and sizes. Some are small, house-sized land masses, while others stretch for more than a mile in length. Most are choked with heavy underbrush, including willows, and some have large cottonwoods. Much of the edge of the river itself is covered with the same types of trees and brush. This habitat generally is large enough to hold deer, even under pressure. When disturbances become too frequent and cover too marginal, deer take to the open spaces away from the river and remain there until after the season.
During '58, rumors began to leak out about a giant buck with a "weird" rack that lived on the river and had been seen on the farm of Dan Thomas. This buck's most relentless pursuer turned out to be local bowhunter Al Dawson, who had heard the rumors. Al at the time lived in Hastings, which is about 30 miles southeast of Shelton.
During those years, Al worked as a salesman for a meat-packing house. He was 31 at the time and recently had taken up bowhunting. His first season he packed around a 57-pound bow and three arrows and was so taken with the sport that he totally gave up gun hunting. This fact alone probably accounted for the fact that the buck survived so many seasons.
Dan Thomas was a friend of Al, and this area was a favorite haunt where Al especially enjoyed hunting. The real story began on one of Al's first trips to the farm. He had just walked across a freshly cut cornfield to look for fresh sign. He stopped at a fence to look over an adjoining alfalfa field and the timbered river bottom beyond. Just as he began to move on, he caught a glimpse of movement and noticed that five or six deer had broken out of the timber and were heading straight for him.
Few other stories in whitetail-hunting history can equal this one for sheer excitement, disappointment and final glory. Fittingly, the buck that resulted from all of this effort is in a class by himself. by thingy Idol
In the lead was a tremendous buck, the likes of which Al never had seen before. Not only was the deer huge, with a massive, gigantic rack, but the antlers were also the strangest and "queerest" set he'd ever seen. Al recalls: "There were heavy, scraggly points, long and short, growing from the main beams in all directions. Strangest of all, he had two long prongs curving out and down on either side of his head, between eye and ear. They extended below his jaws, giving him an odd, lop-eared' appearance."
At that point Al knew he was looking at a trophy of a lifetime and one that would go well into the record book. But because the deer's body was so large (an estimated live weight between 350 and 400 pounds), Al at the time didn't realize the rack was as large as it was.
It appeared the approaching deer were going to cross the fence on the trail where Al stood. He had been caught in the open, so he risked taking a couple of steps backwards, sank to one knee and nocked an arrow.
By now, the buck and other deer had approached to within 50 or 60 yards, but suddenly the buck swerved off to the side. Al knew the wind was in his favor, so he presumed the buck had caught his movement as he knelt. The hunter felt he was well hidden in the tall weeds, but the buck had sensed something was wrong.
Finally, the buck cleared the fence 70 yards from Al, stopped broadside and looked directly at him. Al knew he wasn't going to come closer, so he decided to take a shot. The arrow fell short, and the buck whirled to lead the entire group of deer back to the same wooded bottom they had departed only minutes before.
Al retrieved his arrow and followed the huge tracks across the field for a distance. He knew there would be no hope for another shot now, so he finally left the tracks and headed back to his car. That morning, the name "Mossy Horns" came to him, as it seemed to fit that irregular set of antlers. (Today, this name is still attached to the deer.) That same morning, Al also vowed he'd keep after that buck until the great trophy was his.
Al knew the stories that had circulated around the neighborhood about the "big, unusual buck" would bring other competition - both bow and gun hunters. But he would virtually live with this buck, as he knew it offered him a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
He hunted the remainder of the bow season, which ended after Christmas, and had a half-dozen chances at lesser deer. On each occasion, the thought of Mossy Horns kept him from shooting, as he knew once his single deer tag had been filled he'd be through for the season. If he waited, there was always a chance. As it turned out, he did see the huge buck twice more that season, but both times he was too far for a shot.
During that '58 season, Al had hunted the buck alone. But the following season he would be joined by a couple of fellow bowhunters. Gene Halloran, a retired farmer, and Charley Marlowe, a Hastings advertising executive and the only member of their Oregon Trail Bowhunters Club who had killed a deer with a bow up to that time, also would become obsessed with the hunt for Mossy Horns.
Three times the buck stopped to thrash trees with his rack, and each time Al crept closer.
By now Dan, who owned the farm where the buck spent much of his time, had developed his own reasons for wanting the buck dead. A couple of years earlier, he'd planted 50 young spruce trees for a windbreak about 30 yards from his house, and the big buck had taken on the responsibility of destroying all of them. In one season he'd demolished all 50 with his antlers, and every one had died.
One advantage for these hunters was the fact that this buck lived in a constricted type of habitat He always seemed to stick to the heavy cover along the river, which at least helped narrow the choices of where he could be found. On the other hand, this relatively narrow band of cover was broken by sloughs, islands and channels, and most of the cover was thick, a mixture of cottonwoods, willow tangles, weeds and tall grass. Yes, the buck lived along the river, but the cover was tough to hunt, and the river stretched for miles. Furthermore, hunting was made even more difficult by the water, which was often deep and half-frozen. Both facts made access very difficult.
In the fall of '59, Al, Charley and Gene built tree blinds in a half-dozen locations. In those days portable tree stands were just being developed, so their ambush sites consisted of small platforms built in trees, 10 to 20 feet from the ground.
Perhaps because of the stand-building activity or the intense hunting pressure that followed, most of the archery season passed without anyone even glimpsing the buck. By now, the old second-guessing game had begun. Charley shot a doe and quit hunting. Al finally resigned himself to the possibility that the buck had moved to another area or was dead, as poaching did occur in the area. Or, a natural mishap could have occurred.
By now it was November, but Al kept hunting. Then, late one evening, he saw Mossy Horns about 150 yards away, following a slough. His movement was extremely slow and cautious, but if he didn't change courses he would walk past Al, well out of range. Several times he stopped at the edge of thickets to test the wind and listen for danger. This was the first time Al had seen him this year, and it appeared his rack was nearly identical to the one the deer had worn the previous season.
As expected, the buck passed out of range, and Al decided he had nothing to lose by trying to stalk close enough for a shot. There was a hard wind blowing from the deer to Al, and there was enough brush that he just might get lucky.
For a half-mile Al moved along on the most careful stalk he'd ever made in his life. Three times the buck stopped to thrash trees with his huge rack, and each time Al crept closer. On two separate occasions he was in range, but there was too much brush between them. Finally, the buck paused at the edge of a thicket to work over another willow clump just 25 yards from Al. Two steps around a willow clump and he'd have an open shot. Just then a dry twig broke under Al's foot, and the buck was gone.
Al did not see him again until the evening of the final day of the season. As he walked from the bottom at dusk, realizing the buck had eluded him for another season, he noticed a dark form standing in the open. He finally made out the white throat patch and huge antlers as the buck stood calmly, watching him from just out of range. Instantly he turned and disappeared into the night, as if it had some symbolic meaning to the end of another season.
Al muttered aloud to himself, "Okay, Mossy. Next year will be different."
During the summer of 1960, which now was the third year Al would hunt Mossy Horns, he kept track of the buck's whereabouts. Dan, who often was working in the fields along the river, saw Mossy about once a month, and it was always near his hangout along the Platte River bottoms. In addition to Al and his two buddies, Charley Marlowe and Gene Holloran, a fourth bowhunter joined the group. A warehouse manager from Hastings, Del Austin was an enthusiastic convert to bowhunting and would hunt with the group for the next three seasons.
By the time the bow opener rolled around on Sept. 10, all members of the group knew Mossy was alive and well, and everyone felt confident they had his travel pattern down cold. Stands had been built long before the season. Al had one particular stand near the corner of a cornfield where it joined the bottoms. Here he had found numerous fresh tracks which he felt could belong only to Mossy, and here he resolved to sit until the great buck showed.
For seven weeks Al sat in the stand every chance he had, and progressively he grew more impatient. Then, one cool afternoon toward the end of October, two bucks stepped into the cornfield about 200 yards down the fence line from his stand. They were certainly not in the class of Mossy, but they were good bucks, and it had been a long dry spell. Once they had disappeared into the standing corn, Al climbed down and began to stalk the bucks.
The hunter had gone about 70 yards when for some unknown reason he looked back toward his stand. He was stunned as he saw Mossy Horns standing under it! The gigantic buck stared toward Al, not sure what he was. Finally, though, as Mossy walked to the side, he caught Al's scent and was gone without a sound.
The following week, Charley was in his stand when four deer walked past. He too succumbed to temptation and arrowed a young buck, which promptly ran into the cornfield and dropped. That would fill Charley's one deer tag for the year. But before Charley even could climb down, Mossy stepped out of the brush and stood broadside at 30 yards. Finally he blew and ran back toward the river. Afterwards, Charley made the statement that he was glad when the buck finally ran, because a man can only take so much temptation!
Near the end of that same season, Al had yet another chance at Mossy. This time his wife, Velma, was sitting in another tree, about 50 yards from where Al sat. The afternoon hunt was virtually over, and Al was getting ready to climb down. But the snap of a twig froze him as he looked over the brush. Mossy was walking slowly toward Al with short, cautious steps.
Al let the buck walk beneath his stand and a short distance beyond. The bowhunter was at full draw when the buck passed, and Al shot for the front shoulder. The arrow hit with a solid "thud," and the buck instantly flinched and bolted. Beneath the stand where Velma sat, a woven wire fence was nailed to the tree. As the buck crashed away, he hit the fence and nearly knocked her from her stand. But the buck kept going.
In the poor light Al and Velma looked for blood, but could find none. Finally, they decided to return to Dan's house for 30 minutes, then return with a flashlight to look further. Al still remembers that as being the longest 30 minutes of his life.
These shed antlers were picked up in early 1962 by farmer Dan Thomas. It's generally assumed that they are from the '60 season, but Del Austin, who eventually shot the buck in the fall of '62, believes they were on the buck's head in the fall of '61. Photo by Tom Evans.
When they returned, they found where the buck had crashed into the fence; they also recovered the feathered end of his arrow, without any blood on it. Even after further search the next day, they found no trace of blood or the buck.
Al was haunted the rest of the season by the concern that he might have killed the buck. Did he crawl into a thicket and die, or could he have died in the river, never to be seen again? During the last week of the season, Al filled his tag with an 8-point, 160-class buck, which was his first deer with a bow and his third ever. The season ended without any other sightings of Mossy.
During the summer of'61, Dan did not see Mossy the entire summer. This was unusual, as he had seen the deer every year for the past three summers. It appeared Al's arrow could have killed the buck, or he simply might have died of old age. From the size of his racks in '58, he now was presumed to be at least 8 years old.
As the season got under way, it lacked the same appeal for Al. He now "deer" hunted instead of hunting for Mossy Horns. Partway through the season, Del shot a doe - his first deer - and Velma got an 8-pointer. Everyone in Al's party had quit hunting, but he kept at it, although his heart wasn't in it.
One bitterly cold afternoon late in the season, Al again was sitting in his old stand where he'd shot at Mossy the previous season. Just before dark, he spotted a button buck making his way through the willows about 100 yards off. Following him was a larger buck, and behind that one was the buck Al never expected to see again: Mossy Horns.
Suddenly, the season took on an entirely new dimension, as Al's pulse soared. The monster buck moved as cautiously as ever while he worked his great rack through the willow bushes. His rack looked the same as before, and if anything, even bigger. The wind was icy cold, but in spite of that, Al began to sweat.
Before dark, the two other bucks headed out into the field, but couldn't get through a deep snowdrift. Finally, they turned in the opposite direction of Al and went around the drift into the field. The big buck remained in the willows.
Within a few minutes, a half-dozen does came out under Al's stand and began feeding. Soon, two younger bucks joined the does, and all eight fed under his stand until dark. Mossy finally entered the field just before dark, but would come nowhere near Al's stand. It was as if he remembered the shot from a year earlier - and he probably did.
During the entire year, that was the only time anyone laid eyes on him, as far as Al knew. The buck was definitely being seen less and less often each year. Again, another season had ended, with no hunter even getting a crack at him.
In the spring of '62, Dan had the good fortune to find a matching pair of shed antlers from Mossy in the bottom not far from where Al and the others had been hunting the buck. Now, there was proof that the buck was as big as Al had claimed. (Only one other hunter in Al's group even had seen the buck in four years!) Al had believed Mossy was a new world record during that period, but he'd had no proof. Now the proof was in hand.
The next 10 minutes seemed like 10 hours, as neither hunter nor hunted moved a muscle.
The giant sheds had a drop point off one base that measured 11 inches, and another on the opposite base that was 13 inches long. Approximating the inside spread, the rack would have scored in excess of 281 non-typical points, which would have shattered the standing archery world record.
As it turned out, the sheds probably were from the previous year - the '60 hunting season - which was the year Al thought he had hit the buck. Near the end of one of the long, clublike drop tines off the burrs was what appeared to be a three-edged broadhead mark that had penetrated the antler about a half-inch in depth! Instead of the arrow hitting the shoulder, as had been intended, it apparently hit the unlikely antler tip. This also would account for the buck's excessive crashing and hitting the fence, as he was temporarily stunned from the shock. (It should be noted that Del Austin believes the sheds actually are from the '61 season.)
As the hunt for Mossy entered its fifth year for Al ('62), he decided that if he couldn't get to the big buck, he would bring the deer to him. For weeks in the summer he cut trails through the heavy brush in places where he'd seen the buck most often and built tree stands at the most likely crossings. Then, starting a full month before bow season, Al kept away from the area to allow the deer time to get used to the changes.
That fall, the hunting party grew by two additional hunters, making the party a total of six. Kenny Whitesel, another farmer living near Hastings, and Charley Marlowe's 16-year-old son Chad now rounded out the group. Again, no one had seen Mossy during the summer, and Al wondered if his rack would remain large. By now, they figured he was at least 9 years old.
It was not too long into the season when Al got his answer. At the time, construction was underway on Interstate 80, which was to run along the edge of the Platte River and on the north side of the bottoms where Mossy lived. Because of construction, the river had been temporarily dammed upstream. One day, as Al walked the dry riverbed, he found the fresh, unmistakable tracks of Mossy. The buck was traveling to an alfalfa field. Al backtracked to a small island choked with willows and jumped the buck at close range. As he crashed away, his rack looked as big as ever.
During the next few days. Al was careful to keep away from the island and the primary trails the buck was using. One evening, while he sat in a tree where a runway crossed a big slough, several does walked under his stand, followed by an 8-point buck that stopped to rub his antlers on a bush. Mossy showed up just after the smaller buck, but eventually moved off without coming close enough for a shot. That same week Al had one more distant look at the buck.
The following week Mossy was not seen, so Al searched the dry river bed again, to see what the buck was doing. Here he found a trail the buck had not been using previously. Bow season was drawing to an end, so Al decided to set up a new stand as a last-ditch effort. A nine-day rifle season would begin soon, and too many other hunters knew of the legendary Mossy. He would be lucky to survive the gun season.
Del Austin poses with Mossy Horns after the kill. Hunting buddy Al Dawson and others had spent portions of five seasons in pursuit of this great non-typical~ but the animal kept defying the odds until Del set up a portable tree stand late one afternoon in October 1962. A 20-yard shot as shooting light faded downed the 279 7/8-point monster. Photo courtesy of Del Austin.
On Al's first evening in the new blind, an hour before dark, he saw the great buck slip out of the willows on an island and head his way. Mossy crossed the dry channel and walked to within 15 yards of Al's stand. The wind was right, and it appeared it was all over but the shot.
But, as always before, something went wrong. First, the buck stopped in brush so heavy that Al could make out only his outline. The next 10 minutes seemed like 10 hours, as neither hunter nor hunted moved a muscle. Finally, the buck circled the tree at 20 yards, but he never left the brush for a clear shot. Mossy finally stood not 20 feet from Al's stand, where a fence came down to the river, but it just wasn't right. For another 10 minutes the buck stood stone still, then jumped the fence and walked into the alfalfa field. Now he stood broadside at 45 yards, and Al sent an arrow just over his back. The buck disappeared with one long jump.
The bow season was nearly closed; it was the last afternoon in October. Al and Gene got to the bottoms early and chose their stands. Del and Charley left Hastings after work, knowing they'd have less than an hour before dark, but figured they would get in a last-minute hunt.
Originally, Del had planned to sit in one of Al's stands, but feared he couldn't find it on short notice. So, he brought along a portable platform that could be erected quickly. Del placed the stand on a large island that was very thick. He knew it would have to be a close shot, so he liberally sprinkled buck lure on the ground all around his tree.
He stood on the platform until just before dark and was starting to get down. A loud crash from upwind caught his attention, and he quickly nocked an arrow. It was getting dark, but he could tell that the buck that stepped from the thicket was big. For some reason, the big buck ran toward Del and stopped 20 yards from the tree, turning slightly broadside. Del drew his 45-pound Oneida recurve and drove a Bear Razorhead behind the shoulder of the buck. The deer turned and went running off.
Al and some of the other hunters waited until an hour after dark for Del, but still he hadn't returned. Finally, with flashlights, they headed toward the river and met Del halfway. He related his story, but wasn't sure if the buck he'd shot was Mossy Horns or another buck.
The hunters found the trail easily, as there was a lot of blood. It appeared Del had made a hard hit; they found the broken arrow, which had been snapped off 10 inches above the head. For three hours the hunters trailed the buck through slough grass and willow thickets until the blood and their flashlights were nearly gone. They decided it would be best to wait until morning to continue the search.
The next morning, within 100 yards of where they had stopped the previous evening, they found the buck lying dead in a clump of willows. He was indeed Mossy Horns! It was a bittersweet moment for Al Dawson. The 5-year quest had ended with someone else taking "his" buck. On the other hand, one of his buddies had been fortunate, and that was reason enough for celebration.
Mossy Horns was showing signs of age. He had no fat on his body, and his loins were sunken. Yet, he still dressed 240 pounds, and Al felt sure he would have been 60 pounds heavier during earlier years.
His rack was not quite as massive as in previous years, but he still scored 279 7/8 points when measured by Glenn St. Charles, an official Pope and Young scorer. At the time, this buck was the second-largest non-typical in the world, and the new world-record archery non-typical. It's hard to imagine that his sheds were even larger, but they were.
The Austin buck has 21 scorable points on the right antler, 18 on the left. Greatest spread is an impressive 29 5/8 inches, 21 3/8 inside. The main beams are 27 7/8 and 28 1/8.
As a typical 5x5 the buck grosses 191 3/8 points and nets 184 5/8. This net total, added to the 95 2/8 total inches of abnormal points, yields the final score of 279 7/8. Whether viewed as a non-typical or a typical, this buck has world-class dimensions and is a fitting world record for Pope and Young.
For just another twist or two of fate, this buck might have died of old age. There is certainly a lesson to be learned from this account. Bucks that reach this level of maturity and experience are surely the most difficult animals in the world to kill. Can you imagine how many times this buck would have been seen by a few casual hunters who didn't know he even existed? We never can underestimate the cunning and survivability of mature whitetail bucks.
(Editor's Note: At this writing, Al Dawson has opened a new bowhunting-only whitetail guide service in Missouri. For more information, contact: Al Dawson, HCR 3, Box 658, Gainesville, MO 65655. Phone: (417) 679-4167.)[/i]
[Story source: ]http://ww2.basspro.com/promos/legendarybucks/storypage2.cfm]
