The date was Nov. 2, 2006. The rut was almost in full effect. I walked down the side of a cornfield and spotted a doe about 100 yards in. I stopped in my tracks. She looked my way and casually walked away.
I sat down in a trail between two cornfields and got comfortable. I waited about 20 to 25 minutes, got my rattle horns out of my backpack and rattled for a short time. About 15 minutes later, I heard something in the corn. It sure didn’t sound very small! I rattled the horns again ever so slightly, and something came running through the corn.
My heart just about stopped beating when a big-bodied deer showed itself about 20 yards away. I instantly could tell it was a shooter, even though it had corn shucks all over its rack.
I had to reposition myself about 50 degrees to the right to get a shot. I pulled up on him, took a deep breath and tried to stop him with a mouth bleat. He ignored it and took a couple more steps. I did it again but much louder than the first time. He came to a stop as I steadied my pin just behind his shoulder and watched the straight flight of the arrow bust through his body.
I knew it was a good hit when he took off. It sounded like he crashed, but based on past encounters, I decided to give him time to expire. After two long hours of waiting, I went to investigate, but only made it 40 yards from where I let the arrow fly. When I got up to see him, I could not believe how big he was. I had just arrowed my first deer with a crossbow, and he was a giant! The emotion I experienced was the closest thing to watching my two children being born.
I’ve never been this shaken up recovering a buck. I pulled myself together and called my hunting buddy Heath. I knew he wouldn’t believe this one!