"The South Ridge Bruiser" 

By. "T. W. Norman"

Me heart was pounding like a stampede of wild buffalo racing across the open plains of the west. My nerves were firing, knees were knocking, and to say that my breathing was slightly irregular would be a huge understatement considering the fact that I had just arrowed the largest whitetail buck that I had ever took with my bow! Barely able stand I watched in amazement through the falling leaves, and bare branches as my prize stood forty yards away from where he had unexpectedly met my shockwave broad head. His legs spread fighting to keep his balance, his white tail flickering side to side, suddenly taking two side steps to the right to stay on his feet, then rocking back to his left struggling to keep his legs under him, but to no avail he tumbled 10 feet down the ridge, after one more feeble attempt to stand was made he laid there in a pile of fallen orange and yellow oak leaves motionless. Looking down at my watch it read 8:15; this was the perfect end to a short morning in the stand.

This morning started like countless others as I prepared myself for the all day sit that I was expecting. I quietly snuck through the hardwoods in the dark hours of the early morning, searching for the perfect tree to place my climber on top of the South Ridge that I had hunted on many previous occasions. After finding a large white oak tree, I climbed up the limbless trunk and perched myself 25 feet above the acorn littered ridge. I was starting to hoist my Bow Tech Allegiance up to my position when I heard the familiar sound of a deer approaching my position through the crunching leaves beneath my stand. From the sound coming with each step I knew the deer had to be close, but being a good forty minutes before sunrise I could not pinpoint the deer’s location. That was until he stepped into a moonlit opening from the treetop canopy. A young four point stood gazing at my dangling bow not15 yards away from my tree. I’m not sure what he thought of it, but since he continued to graze on the acorns, and occasionally look back up, I could tell that he did not mind too much. After about ten minutes of feeding he slowly fed away from me. After getting my gear situated and hanging my bow up I turned, slowly sat down, and waited for the first rays of the sun to peek over the horizon.

Twenty-five minutes later as the break of day began to crest of the far hillside, the sound of tree yelps, and clucks from the roosting turkeys began to bring the woods alive. It was not long until squirrels where scampering from their nighttime hideouts to sift through the leaves for their daily supply of acorns. The birds began singing their soft melodies, and off in the distance every once in a while a young long beard would make his presence known with a resonating gobble. There is something to be said about listening to Gods’ creations coming alive in the early morning hours that can almost leave an outdoorsman speechless and in awe of his mighty work. As soon as there was enough light I took my range finder from my chest pocket and began canvassing shooting lanes, ranging trees, fallen logs, and bushes to make sure that I knew the yardage of my possible shots. After getting familiar with my shooting lanes I grabbed my Primos can bleat, and tipped it over a couple of times, followed by a few short trailing grunts.

Last year, not 150 yards from where I sat this morning I arrowed a good sized eight point buck. As I sat in my stand motionless and silent, memories from that hunt played in my mind like a slideshow. The details were just as fresh today as they were one year prior. Knowing that this was the prime time to let the antlers clash, I reached for my heavy horns that where hanging from the right side of my tree stand to try and coax in another cruising buck. I knew from past experience that deer often used this ridge as a funnel traveling back and forth between bedding and feeding areas, needless to say my confidence was rather high. I had always seen deer when hunting this ridge, so as I began my rattling and grunting sequence. I thought to myself, if there is a buck within hearing distance it won’t be long until he comes to find out what all of the ruckus is about. Fifteen minutes later I still had not been lucky enough to see a deer coming to investigate all of the commotion. I decided that I would give my Buck Roar a shot. I quietly let out a few tending grunts followed by a few more aggressive grunts, and then bellowed out a loud roar in hopes to get a response. Five minutes went by, and still nothing.

I sat back down, and decided that I would wait an hour before calling or rattling. I knew that over calling could possibly turn away any browsing candidates. So I was going to wait for a little while. A minute had barely passed when I caught some movement 100 yards away through the tangles of oak, maple, and cedar trees that made up the majority of the hardwoods that surrounded me. I knew that I saw a deer seemingly glide through the opening between the interwoven trees. I reached for my binoculars and brought them up for a closer look so I could hopefully get a glimpse of what I had saw a moment earlier. The deer had gone behind a small cedar tree. That is where I had my optics pointed. I was waiting anxiously for the deer to reappear, and then the deer took his first step from behind the tree, a ray of light hit the deer’s left G-2 sending a glimmer my way. I knew at that point, I had a shooter buck walking my ridge.

He persistently made his way to the top of the mound, and then almost instinctively turned and headed south, right towards my tree. This is the point that my body seemed to short circuit. The inside of my chest began to hurt because my heart was beating against it so hard. I felt as though I was trying to stand on toothpicks, my breathing was heavy, and labored; my adrenaline was flying 100 miles per hour. This could possibly be the moment that I had waited, and hoped for all season long. My prayers of the past two months might just be answered as this buck steadily made his way to where I was waiting. “Calm down, Calm Down T.W., it’s just another deer, deep breaths, control yourself.” I kept repeating these things over and over, and finally my tensions did ease. The big 8-point stopped, at a licking branch for a quick taste; during this brief stop I got a laser range on him. He stood broadside 38 yards away, a shot that I knew I could make with my eyes closed, but I also wanted to be sure to have the best shot opportunity that he would allow. I was sure he would keep coming and give me an even better opportunity at him. I was standing my release was hooked to my d-loop, I was ready to draw whenever the time came, but for now I waited.

Now growing up I was always told that practice makes perfect. That was until a basketball coach told me that was not the case, “Anyone can practice and still be bad at something. Perfect practice makes perfect.” I have taken that concept to heart, especially when it came to archery shooting, and hunting. But never have I had that theory tested so heavily than when this buck was methodically walking, crunching the leaves beneath him with every step. My patience had run dry; luckily the buck had closed the distance another 10 yards by this point. He proceeded behind a few hanging limbs, and that is when I drew my bow, and anchored in, two more steps, and the deal would be sealed. Twenty-eight yards quartering towards me is where the big boy finally came to a halt. Slowly letting my 30 yard pin float down right behind the deer’s shoulder, I found my spot, settled the pin, let it sit on its mark for a split second before squeezing off my ‘lil goose’ release. THWACK! A perfect shot.

That’s when all of the emotions came flooding back like a raging tidal wave ready to wash me away. I had to sit down, I knew my buck was down I watched him stumble and fall; I knew he was not moving. I had to gather my emotions, and thank God for an answer to my prayers. After gathering my composer I inched down the tree, loaded my stand on my back, and made the quick 70-yard march to where my deer lay. Hunters, I’m sure that you can all agree with me, there is nothing more special than laying your hands on your trophy for the fist time. Upon reaching the deer, I noticed a small 1-inch G-4 on his right main beam, which would make him a dandy of a nine point.

I knelt beside my trophy, and said another prayer of thanks to the Lord for allowing me this opportunity to be able to harvest such a nice deer. I am a firm believer in the fact that God will give us the desires of our hearts. Being able to take this deer with my bow was just another example to me of how God truly blesses his children. And on this morning the Lord chose to bless me with a “South Ridge Bruiser.”