buckfever321
Member
A thread from earlier this fall got wondering if there are others on here who have hunting stories that are so crazy, people won't/don't believe you, but really did happen. I have one from the 2012 bow season that I still wonder whether or not it was just a dream. I will apologize in advance for such a long story but I think you will enjoy it.
It was November 21 and I was home for the week from college for Thanksgiving break. I wasn't able to crawl into a stand before daylight that morning so I decided to hop in the pickup as the sun came up and drive around to see what was moving.
I pull out of our driveway, and drive the half mile down the gravel road to the county highway; I turn on to the highway and drive another half mile past a property that I have permission to hunt on and 250-300 yards from the road I see a nice buck with a very visible droptine on his left side walking with his nose to the ground, I suppose following the trail of a hot doe that must've passed through earlier. I practically went from 55 to 0 in the blink of an eye and was grabbing for my bow and jumping out of the pickup all in one motion (after pulling on to the shoulder of course). The buck was walking straight west, parallel to the road along a wooded draw. The wind was out of the southwest and at that moment in my favor. He never looked up at me as I was running to his east across the CRP field, all he had on his mind was the doe he was hunting for as he came to the north/south fence and turned north. I knew I was never going to get in front of him at the rate he was moving, so I decided I would try rattling at him with the horns that I was (thankfully) smart enough to grab before barreling out of the pickup. I set up at the the tip of the draw behind a bush next to an old dried up pond. I smashed the horns together and he made an immediate 180 and started running right towards the pond. I dropped the horns and got ready. Seeing him pop over that old pond damn at about 30 yards is something I will never forget. He was wide, massive, and that drop was looking better with every step he took. He ended up walking right through the middle of that little dry pond to 10 yards where I released the arrow.
Nothing too "out of this world" yet.. but wait, it gets better.
I thought I had made a perfect shot. Why wouldn't I make a perfect shot? It was 10 yards for crying out loud! The buck ran about 30 yards and stopped all while flicking his tail like he'd been hit hard! I thought I was seconds from jumping up and down and squealing like a little girl as he toppled over. But he never did. After a few seconds he just trots over the hill like nothing happened.
I stand up and walk to where he was standing after the shot. There was blood, not a lot, but there was blood. I then returned to where he was standing when I shot him and I find an approximately 6" piece of the nock end of my arrow but there was no blood on it. I set the arrow down and decide to go take a look over the hill to see if he had piled up just over the hill.
What I saw as I popped over the hill was one of the last things on the list of "Things I Expect to See Looking for this Buck". 100 yards straight to my north I see him walking with his nose to the ground looking for his lady like nothing had happened!
So there I am getting in my cardio for the second time that morning as I run across the CRP hoping to get another shot. This time however the wind is not in my favor. He again comes to within 10 yards with me at full draw but winds me and runs back to the east.
"That has to be the end of this BS story" you say. Nope...
I then run BACK to the draw he was originally walking down when I first saw him from the road. I find a downed tree and squat down. He is now close to where I had shot him the first time around. I grunt at him a couple times and sure enough he comes in on a string AGAIN! But again he gets down wind of me and bolts before I am able to take another shot. He jumps that north/south fence on to the neighbors and I'm forced to give it up.
I'm completely confused. I had never seen anything like that and had no idea what to do. I called my dad and told him the story, fully expecting him to burst into laughter and call me a liar. But to my surprise he didn't even if he maybe wanted to.
Fast forward to that afternoon and we decided to go look for some sign. I called the neighbor and explained my situation and he said it was fine to jump the fence and if we needed some help, he would be glad to do give us a hand.
We start following what little blood trail there was for about 2 or 300 yards before it nearly vanishes. The draw that the blood was in had come to a fork, I went one way, my dad the other. I get to the end of my side of the fork after finding no sign of the buck and walked over the hill to find my dad. I get to my dad and he tells me he had just jumped him. My heart sank. He said he didn't look like he was in BAD shape but he wasn't running great either. Sure enough down in that draw was his bed with a puddle of blood about the size of a basketball. To this day I feel that he was in his death bed right there if we would have waited a full 24 hours. Live and learn I guess.
I spent the next several days walking that whole section looking for that deer before having to go back to classes with that sick feeling of having lost a deer. The Monday that I went back to class, my dad decided he would go look one more time before giving up. He spent several hours looking and he finally found the buck about 1/4 mile from where the shot occurred. The buck was miraculously still alive, but barely. Five days later and he was still hanging on. Dad put an arrow in him to end his suffering. I had walked within 30 yards of where he was a couple days earlier. He sported a 6 inch droptine, 22" spread, and 25" main beams. He ended up grossing 153 6/8".
Because I was 2 hours from home, I never got any harvest pictures with that deer. Which still pains me to this day. And it sickens me that the shot was so bad. I believe my arrow hit some sticks shortly after leaving the string causing it hit him in the guts and exit out his left rump. Lets just say it was a smelly process when it came to gutting him. That was the only benefit of being 2 hours from home during this ordeal.
This is the first time I have ever told this story to anyone other than my dad, all because I'm afraid of friends thinking I'm full of it. I couldn't lie someone if my life depended on it but I don't want to be labeled a liar. Silly, I know. This will probably always be the most exciting hunt I have ever been on and I can't bring myself to share it with the dozens of friends and family members that enjoy deer hunting as much as I do.
So that is my 100% true hunting story that sounds 100% false. HA. I figured at least a few of you have a crazy hunt or two to share to help pass the time before rut kicks in and this forum is (hopefully) being flooded with awesome harvest pictures.
Good luck to everyone still trying to fill their tag. Stay safe and have a good fall.
It was November 21 and I was home for the week from college for Thanksgiving break. I wasn't able to crawl into a stand before daylight that morning so I decided to hop in the pickup as the sun came up and drive around to see what was moving.
I pull out of our driveway, and drive the half mile down the gravel road to the county highway; I turn on to the highway and drive another half mile past a property that I have permission to hunt on and 250-300 yards from the road I see a nice buck with a very visible droptine on his left side walking with his nose to the ground, I suppose following the trail of a hot doe that must've passed through earlier. I practically went from 55 to 0 in the blink of an eye and was grabbing for my bow and jumping out of the pickup all in one motion (after pulling on to the shoulder of course). The buck was walking straight west, parallel to the road along a wooded draw. The wind was out of the southwest and at that moment in my favor. He never looked up at me as I was running to his east across the CRP field, all he had on his mind was the doe he was hunting for as he came to the north/south fence and turned north. I knew I was never going to get in front of him at the rate he was moving, so I decided I would try rattling at him with the horns that I was (thankfully) smart enough to grab before barreling out of the pickup. I set up at the the tip of the draw behind a bush next to an old dried up pond. I smashed the horns together and he made an immediate 180 and started running right towards the pond. I dropped the horns and got ready. Seeing him pop over that old pond damn at about 30 yards is something I will never forget. He was wide, massive, and that drop was looking better with every step he took. He ended up walking right through the middle of that little dry pond to 10 yards where I released the arrow.
Nothing too "out of this world" yet.. but wait, it gets better.
I thought I had made a perfect shot. Why wouldn't I make a perfect shot? It was 10 yards for crying out loud! The buck ran about 30 yards and stopped all while flicking his tail like he'd been hit hard! I thought I was seconds from jumping up and down and squealing like a little girl as he toppled over. But he never did. After a few seconds he just trots over the hill like nothing happened.

What I saw as I popped over the hill was one of the last things on the list of "Things I Expect to See Looking for this Buck". 100 yards straight to my north I see him walking with his nose to the ground looking for his lady like nothing had happened!
So there I am getting in my cardio for the second time that morning as I run across the CRP hoping to get another shot. This time however the wind is not in my favor. He again comes to within 10 yards with me at full draw but winds me and runs back to the east.
"That has to be the end of this BS story" you say. Nope...
I then run BACK to the draw he was originally walking down when I first saw him from the road. I find a downed tree and squat down. He is now close to where I had shot him the first time around. I grunt at him a couple times and sure enough he comes in on a string AGAIN! But again he gets down wind of me and bolts before I am able to take another shot. He jumps that north/south fence on to the neighbors and I'm forced to give it up.
I'm completely confused. I had never seen anything like that and had no idea what to do. I called my dad and told him the story, fully expecting him to burst into laughter and call me a liar. But to my surprise he didn't even if he maybe wanted to.
Fast forward to that afternoon and we decided to go look for some sign. I called the neighbor and explained my situation and he said it was fine to jump the fence and if we needed some help, he would be glad to do give us a hand.
We start following what little blood trail there was for about 2 or 300 yards before it nearly vanishes. The draw that the blood was in had come to a fork, I went one way, my dad the other. I get to the end of my side of the fork after finding no sign of the buck and walked over the hill to find my dad. I get to my dad and he tells me he had just jumped him. My heart sank. He said he didn't look like he was in BAD shape but he wasn't running great either. Sure enough down in that draw was his bed with a puddle of blood about the size of a basketball. To this day I feel that he was in his death bed right there if we would have waited a full 24 hours. Live and learn I guess.
I spent the next several days walking that whole section looking for that deer before having to go back to classes with that sick feeling of having lost a deer. The Monday that I went back to class, my dad decided he would go look one more time before giving up. He spent several hours looking and he finally found the buck about 1/4 mile from where the shot occurred. The buck was miraculously still alive, but barely. Five days later and he was still hanging on. Dad put an arrow in him to end his suffering. I had walked within 30 yards of where he was a couple days earlier. He sported a 6 inch droptine, 22" spread, and 25" main beams. He ended up grossing 153 6/8".
Because I was 2 hours from home, I never got any harvest pictures with that deer. Which still pains me to this day. And it sickens me that the shot was so bad. I believe my arrow hit some sticks shortly after leaving the string causing it hit him in the guts and exit out his left rump. Lets just say it was a smelly process when it came to gutting him. That was the only benefit of being 2 hours from home during this ordeal.
This is the first time I have ever told this story to anyone other than my dad, all because I'm afraid of friends thinking I'm full of it. I couldn't lie someone if my life depended on it but I don't want to be labeled a liar. Silly, I know. This will probably always be the most exciting hunt I have ever been on and I can't bring myself to share it with the dozens of friends and family members that enjoy deer hunting as much as I do.
So that is my 100% true hunting story that sounds 100% false. HA. I figured at least a few of you have a crazy hunt or two to share to help pass the time before rut kicks in and this forum is (hopefully) being flooded with awesome harvest pictures.
Good luck to everyone still trying to fill their tag. Stay safe and have a good fall.