Not Finding Big Whitetail Buck Enough to Make Me Sick

Reader Contribution by Caleb Regan and Managing Editor
Published on November 11, 2009
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I have to get this story over with. I never dislike writing, however, I dislike thinking about the 11-point whitetail deer I shot late last Thursday evening and never recovered, at least not yet.

At least I think it was an 11-point. The previous Sunday I’d been out sitting in a platform stand at GRIT Editor Hank Will’s house, a windy day for that platform stand, when just before the sun went down I heard footsteps coming out of the forest behind me on my right side.

Hiding my face, I turned and eyed a 6-pointer lazily grazing towards my tree. I’d just made up my mind to take him and was thinking about how to get a shot, when he lowered his head and started making a scrape in the earth to lay scent. That noise triggered another noise, slow, deliberate footsteps coming out of the timber. When a large buck caught my eye, I buried my face, tried to turn and prayed for enough daylight.

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