2020 was a trying year for everyone. For me personally, social distancing was the most difficult part. I am a professional drummer, and after the first week in March, I lost all of my gigs, not to mention face-to-face contact with most of my friends and some family for the rest of the year. Trying to stay positive, I decided I would spend the spring and summer preparing for the upcoming fall hunting season like I’ve never done before. I live where I hunt, on a 40-acre property in central Wisconsin, so hunting preparation was one activity that was still readily available to me in the “new normal” — a phrase I still hate. Little did I know that after months of preparation, my season would last only two days.
During March and April, I spent time moving stands, clearing trails, cutting wood and building a portable box blind for late-season muzzleloader hunting. I also planted and maintained five small food plots on the property. They are each about an eighth of an acre, but the work is still hard, and mostly done by hand. With COVID-19 still in the picture, my stands were in great shape and the plots were completed by early summer. I hung out my trail cameras and spent most of the summer trout fishing by myself, mowing plots, and playing tennis with a few friends, all the while anxious to see what bucks would start showing up.
By late May I had five different shooter bucks showing up. They were using my plots often and even more regularly visiting the alfalfa field that borders my property on the northeast corner. By summer’s end we had named several of the bucks: The big 10 (a 170-inch giant that was eventually shot by a neighbor), Brow Tine (a 160-inch buck with a massive 14-inch brow tine on his right side that would later get shot about a mile away during the rifle season), and the buck I would eventually shoot called the Border 12. It was looking to be a banner year. I had been nervous how hunting would be this season because 270 acres of one of the nearby properties had recently been logged off and turned into a corn field. Despite initial concerns, it looked like this change in the local habitat was only helping funnel more deer to my property.
Lots of trail camera pictures were showing up all summer long, especially in the evening near the alfalfa field. I always plan one or two weekend hunts during the archery season for some family and friends to come hunt with me in what we call a “Man Cave” hunt. I built a small cabin on the property in 2013 that we use for these occasions. I’ve learned over the years that if you have a target buck or two showing up regularly during the summer, the best time to harvest one is the first week of the season. I was getting so many good buck pictures this summer that I planned our Man Cave hunt for opening weekend with my son and his buddy. In the past four seasons I’ve been lucky enough to shoot three Pope & Young bucks on my property. Two of these were the Sunday of opening weekend in September. My son, Kevin, (we’ll call him that since that is his name) has been due to shoot a trophy with his bow for some time. Kevin lives a couple hundred miles away. With COVID-19 concerns, I knew this would be the only opportunity for him to hunt with me. Getting Kevin a shot at a nice buck on opening weekend became my No. 1 goal for the season.
As opening weekend approached, the bucks were showing up almost every evening in the alfalfa field. I have three stands in that area. Old Trusty is at the intersection of multiple trails, about 100 yards to the west of the field corner. It’s called that for reasons that I don’t need to explain to hunters still reading. The second stand is the Cornfield stand, which is positioned on the corner of the field, which had been planted in corn in years past, thus the name. The third stand, Leverglide (the brand name), is 125 yards directly to the north of the Cornfield stand. The deer were entering the field somewhere between the Cornfield stand and Leverglide. My neighbor Jon lives on the southeast corner of the field and keeps me informed on field activity.
Opening weekend was approaching and my son’s buddy had to cancel due to illness. We didn’t want to take any chances with the virus exploding. The weather forecast was not looking good for Saturday morning with heavy rain in the picture. I tried to convince Kevin to come Saturday and hunt through Sunday evening. Kevin is a busy professional and has two young children at home. No change. He will hunt until noon Sunday to get home. Bummer. Sunday evening has been good to me.
Kevin arrives Friday evening and we are ready for a great Father/Son hunt. As predicted, it rained in the morning. We decided to sleep in, but Kevin heads to Old Trusty at about 10 in the morning. Even in the rain Kevin sees deer from the stand, including one of the shooters. But nothing was close enough to shoot. I texted him to check out the Leverglide stand before he came back. He said there were a bunch of rubs close to the stand and it looked like a prime spot. After drying off, a good lunch, and a few cribbage games, we head back out. Kevin heads to the Cornfield stand, where he had seen the shooter that morning. I went to his different stand on the west side of the property, trying to give Kevin plenty of space where all the action was expected. The deer were on the way to the field early according to Kevin’s texts. We figured with the weather change they would be. Another text told me that the seat in the Cornfield stand was disintegrating into sawdust under Kevin’s weight. I guess I forgot to check that. There’s always something the first hunt or two of the season. My suggestion was for him to move to Leverglide, but Kevin stayed put. I was seeing nothing. In the hours to follow he would see about a dozen deer, including a half-dozen bucks. Two would have been shooters. Unfortunately, the nicest one was 35 yards to the north of him in thick stuff. Eventually six of the deer came back toward me. One was a small 6-point. We “hit the sack” early to get a jump on the deer in the morning.
Kevin didn’t want to spook any deer that might be out in the alfalfa in the morning and chose to sit in my gun stand, which is 80 yards to the southwest of the Cornfield stand. I sat the southernmost stand on my property by a small pond. Always a great spot, but once again, my hopes were that the action would be by Kevin. It turned out to be a quiet morning. Kevin had a couple does right in front of him, but that was it. I saw nothing. After we came back to the house I tried as hard as I could to convince Kevin to stay and hunt the afternoon, then go home. When his mind is made up, there is no changing it. I even said, “You know what is going to happen. I will shoot one of the two big boys tonight.” He still went home. Kevin was happy and satisfied. He had his best opening weekend ever, even without any shots fired. I was disappointed and feeling a bit down, however. My goal for the year was for Kevin to get a nice bow buck, and we had five on the property. All the hard work I put in was in vain. I failed my son. I also knew that was the only hunt I was going to have with him at my property this year. I spent the next hour or so fixing the broken seat to the Cornfield stand and trying to put the disappointment out of my mind.
There was only one place to sit that evening — Leverglide. I knew it and so did Kevin. He told me to sit there in the evening on his way down the driveway. All of the deer Kevin had seen had been entering the field north of the Cornfield stand. The conditions were perfect. The sun was shining, and the light wind was out of the west. The deer would be coming to feed early. The field was about 30 yards directly behind me when I climbed into the stand about 3:00 that afternoon. I texted Kevin who was already home. At about 4:15 I checked my phone and had yet to see a deer. I texted him again, and his reply was, “Don’t worry, they’ll be there.” Within 5 minutes two does and a fawn came from the direction of Old T. They went directly to the field, passing me to the left at about 20 yards. Soon after more came down the same trail. Does and bucks galore. One of the bucks was a 130-inch 10-point. He looked like a giant compared to the others. But, I knew he was mostly likely No. 4 or No. 5 on the hit list.
He stopped halfway between me and the field. The buck was about 30 yards away, but behind my left shoulder and the tree I was leaning on. I’m left handed, so there was no shot. He slowly walked into the field and started feeding directly behind me about 50 yards away. More deer followed from the south. I counted as best as I could. Soon there were close to 30 deer in the field. Ten were bucks. The 10-point was making his way along the field edge, and eventually started to angle back to me 100 yards out. All of a sudden, I looked back to the trail and saw the Border 12-point on the same path walking toward me. A smaller funky racked bucked had bedded 12 yards from me on the trail. Where had he come from? The Border 12 stopped next to the bedded deer. No shot. Minutes passed. Then, in a split second, all of the deer in the field ran toward me. I was engulfed in deer and couldn’t blink. What was happening? In my younger years I would have fallen out of the stand from shaking so much with excitement. Now I was laughing inside my head, and hoping the deer couldn’t see the smile on my face. This was better than any hunting show I had ever seen.
I heard the sound of antlers smacking each other. All the deer froze their position and were all facing the two bucks in action. Slowly, I was able to turn my head just enough to make out the bucks. If you have never witnessed a battle in the woods, every animal freezes with all focus on the altercation until it is over. It was at this point that I made the decision to shoot the Border 12 if the opportunity presented itself. If I could pull this off without getting “busted” by any of the deer it would be an amazing accomplishment. The sound of antlers smacking each other stopped suddenly. All the deer turned their heads back to the field, and slowly walked back in that direction, with the exception of one. The Border 12 stood firm, 12 yards away behind the tree on my right shoulder. Believe it or not, I don’t get nervous anymore. I do not look at the antlers after making the decision to shoot. All focus is on making the correct shot, but only after the deer has moved past broadside to a quartering away position. I do not want there to be any chance of him seeing movement. After only a moment or two he began to walk slowly along my right side, heading straight north.
When his position was 18 yards away, quartering hard to his right, I released the arrow. The hollow sound of the arrow hitting his body, and the kick of his back legs 6 feet in the air, let me know I had a solid hit. Most likely a heart shot. As he ran down the hill to the north, I could see my arrow had passed through. At the bottom of the hill, he turned to his left and went into some very thick brush. I waited, but heard nothing. Being a drummer, my hearing is not the best. “Excuse me, what did you say dear?” You get the idea. Not seeing anything, after 10 minutes, I climbed down to check the arrow. It was a clean pass through but with little blood. I walked back, got into the UTV, and headed home.
When I walked into the house my wife Laurie looked at me. She knew. “I shot one of the big boys,” I said. We both knew this meant there would be some anxious moments until I found him. I texted Kevin to call me. He did, and I told him the story. In the minutes to follow I called two friends, Jon the neighbor in the alfalfa field, and my friend Steve living in town. They both said they would come shortly to help track. When they arrived, we headed down the trail to my arrow. There was a light trail of blood to follow that was spotty at best. The three of us headed down the hill finding blood every few feet. At the bottom of the hill, we temporarily lost blood. I knew the buck had headed to his left toward the road. With my bow in hand, I headed that direction while Steve and Jon continued searching for blood. After finding no sign for the 100 or so yards to the road, I headed back to the boys. They were not far from where I had left them, but had moved in the opposite direction towards the field. Jon said, “Come here. If you look down you can see blood on both sides of the buck’s tracks. And, if you look up, you can see your deer.”
Jon is a funny man. We all laughed hard and walked over to the buck, high-fiving on the way. I called Kevin and told him we found the buck. We took a few pics and I sent one to Kevin. I didn’t have my knife, but Jon had his. He’s always prepared. I started to gut the buck with Jon’s dull knife. Soon Jon said, “let me do that.” He finished the job. Thanks, Jon. We dragged the buck back to the road and then loaded it in the back of Steve’s truck. I was relieved, but not happy. I relayed to the guys my disappointment in Kevin not getting this deer. After getting home and having a cocktail (maybe two), I registered him online once Steve and Jon left. Time to go to sleep.
In the morning I went out to look at the Border 12 in my shed. He was No. 3 on the hit list. I finally began to feel good about the kill. After all, it was the third time in the last five years that I had shot a target buck on the Sunday of opening weekend, at the same time, in the same area. The first two were out of the Cornfield stand and this one out of Leverglide, just yards away. It was also the single best evening of bow hunting I had ever had. Rifle season was still two “social distancing” months away. My archery season had ended short but sweet.
