MissouriWhitetails.com

"An early Christmas Present" 
Article by Doug Baker

As Christmas neared, I figured that I wasn’t going to fill my second 2003-2004 Missouri archery buck tag. Not that I could complain because I had already experienced a great season, harvesting seven deer to include a heavy Missouri 7-pointer during the first week of November and a 140 class 8-pointer in Kansas a week later. Still my season goal had been to take two P&Y bucks, and I had fallen short…or so I thought.

To put things in perspective, I am an active duty U.S. Army infantry officer, and my good fortune to be hunting with a resident Kansas archery tag and non-resident Missouri tags came about through my selection to attend the year long Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Learning of the selection last January and knowing the type of deer that Kansas and northern Missouri produce, I immediately began searching for hunting land in both states and discovered the Mid-America Hunting Association, which leases over 200,000 acres in Kansas, Missouri, and Iowa. When I arrived in Kansas during the first of July, I promptly began scouting both states, and during one of those scouting trips in Caldwell and Daviess counties, I got the notion that I wanted to retire in northern Missouri someday. As a native South Carolinian whose parents and siblings still live there, my decision shocked my wife and family.

 
After working with a real estate agent in Cameron, Missouri, I located a 40-acre plot northeast of Hamilton that was in my price range. My first trip there produced multiple deer and turkey sightings, including a monster buck in velvet. I was sold! Although relatively small, the land hunts like 150 acres because it contains over 20 acres of hardwood surrounded by 500 acres of open cropland that no one is allowed to hunt. The only drawback was that the land was over an hour-drive away, which restricted my hunting there to weekends and holidays. However, early on, I decided that I would only bowhunt the property in hopes that it would become a sanctuary once gun season started. That decision paid off!

 
Throughout the season, every trip to Caldwell County proved eventful, but by the first week of November, I had yet to fill a buck tag although I had seen some decent animals. Knowing that I would not be able to get back to Missouri before the firearms’ weekend opener, I decided that I would take the first decent buck I saw. At the time that decision proved to be a big mistake, but I can only thank the good Lord that I got a chance to rectify it.
The morning of November 11th was uneventful with only a few doe sightings, but my spirits lifted as the weather changed in the early afternoon with a drop in temperature accompanied by a fine mist. By 4:30 p.m., however, my motivation started to wane as the mist turned to a drizzle, and I became preoccupied with keeping dry. I had just attached my umbrella to the tree when a nice 120-class 7-pointer stepped out into a pasture adjacent to the property. I bleated at him, and he quickly closed the gap looking for a doe. I arrowed him behind the left shoulder at ten yards and watched him collapse 40 yards away. Elated with the results of the shot, I sat down and figured I would wait until dark and try to fill a doe tag. I had just knocked an arrow when I turned to see the biggest buck of my life make his way into the same pasture and take the same route of the 7-pointer. I could only watch as the 10-pointer walked by at 10 yards.

Having seen a true monster, I was torn between gun hunting my property that weekend or sticking to my earlier decision to not squeeze a trigger on it. Knowing I would miss opening morning because of my infant daughter’s baptism, I elected to leave the area alone and instead hunted a farm about fifteen miles to the north. Although I harvested two does and missed a great 8-pointer Sunday afternoon, I really questioned my decision to have not hunted my land. What if the big buck had not stayed on or near my property? What if someone else killed him? As I sped to check station in town, I imagined that I would see his picture on the front window of the gas station; however, none of the checked-in bucks were him.

Promising myself that I would only shoot if I saw the big 10-pointer, I returned the next weekend to the 40 acres and was pleased see the deer acting un-pressured. Groups of does fed contently in the back pasture, and I was able to call in a basket-racked 8-pointer at five yards. However, the big buck did not appear. As the season transitioned to muzzleloader, I continued to frequent the property hoping for a sighting, but it seemed the animal had disappeared. My firearms buck tagged went unfilled.

 
With class out for Christmas leave, I finally had the opportunity to hunt the 40 acres during the week, but I was receiving pressure from my wife and parents to travel to South Carolina for the holidays. Somewhat giving in, I promised my wife that if I killed the big buck that I had seen earlier in the season we would fly out the next day. On December 22d, I drove to the property and hunted from sunup to sundown, but only saw a handful of does. However, I did find some fresh, large tracks at a creek crossing. The following day, I arrived late on the property, and by the time I had scrambled up a tree near the crossing, does began filtering out of the creek bottom. As I watched them, I prayed for the big buck to show and assured the “man upstairs” that I wouldn’t miss church anymore because of hunting and that I would hold true to the promise I made my wife.

For two hours, the does continued to feed, and I had focused my attention on a mature one that was feeding ten yards away, thinking that I would arrow her and have the entire animal made into jerky. With about 30 minutes of shooting light left, I took my bow off of its holder and began to draw, but then I caught movement behind me. The buck of my obsession was nonchalantly feeding to me. Drawing as I turned 180 degrees, I placed the pin on his right shoulder. He closed to within ten yards and was quartering towards me with his head down, presenting a marginal shot that only his closeness could counter. I released the arrow and it struck high on his right shoulder but angled straight down and through him. The buck whirled and ran 50 yards in the direction he had come. He stopped and stared at me before walking away and out of sight. With darkness and the cold closing in, I elected to pick up the trail the next morning.

When I arrived home, I told my wife about the hunt, and she immediately phoned my mother to arrange traveling plans. My pleas for them to wait until I had recovered the buck fell on deaf ears. After a sleepless night, I once again made the 79-mile drive.

 
Arriving mid-morning of Christmas Eve, I was disappointed to find a marginal blood trail that petered out to nothing at a Y in two well-traveled trails. Consequently, I picked the wrong trail and wasted an hour looking in the wrong direction. At my wits end, I returned to the last spot of blood and started up the other trail. Clover-leafing through the brush, I practically stumbled over the buck. He had only traveled about 100 yards and had lain down with his legs tucked under him.

 
When I arrived home that afternoon, I found that my wife had booked tickets for Christmas Day and that I only had a few hours to figure out what to do with the cape and meat. With no sensible butcher open and my taxidermist out of town, I was in a bind. Luckily, my neighbor took the meat, and I was able to clear enough space in the freezer to fit the 160-class brute.

The buck is a main frame 10-pointer with 5 6/8 inch kicker on his right main beam. His green-score gross is 165 P&Y, and he should net in the mid 150s. I’ll have him at the Missouri Deer Classic next month for official scoring.