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Where I grew up in the northern lower peninsula of Michigan, a trophy whitetail is a 6-point. An 8-point is almost unheard of. I never once heard of quality deer management.
My dad’s passion is bow hunting and he took at least one deer a year since he was old enough to hunt, but none of them were wall-hangers. He jokes that he hunts for quantity over quality. His priority was the meat, not the rack.
But every hunter dreams of the big one—my dad and me included. So about 8 years ago, my whole family—my teenage sister, my mom, my dad and I decided to hunt on opening morning of the Michigan rifle season together on a piece of property neighboring my parents’ land.
My sister and I sat together in the edge of a small gathering of poplar trees facing some thick pines we knew were a favorite bedding spot of a few deer. My parents sat with their backs to us about 100 yards away on the top of a hill. We couldn’t see each other but were easily within shouting distance. Everyone got to their spots about 20 minutes before dawn and waited.
My sister and I didn’t so much as see a squirrel and were getting restless after about 2 hours, when we heard a gunshot. We waited about 10 minutes after the shot and then curiosity got the best of us, and we headed over to where our parents were sitting. We approached just as they were getting up to examine the young buck my dad had taken.
After examining Dad’s deer, we all decided to hunt together on the top of their hill. They had seen deer all morning while we saw nothing. On the top of their hill was a gathering of maybe 10 pines. We sat back to back again with Mom and Dad watching the run where Dad had taken his deer. My sister and I faced an old foundation and an open field.
We had all just settled down and my sister had fallen asleep when out of the corner of my eye I caught some movement. I slowly turned to see the most amazing deer I have ever seen. It looked like something that should have been in a magazine or calendar. The buck was beautiful. It stood there so majestically on a small grassy knoll above the old foundation, maybe it was listening to my sister snoring.
It only stood there a few seconds before it darted behind the foundation. The only thing I could see was its at least 10-point rack over the side of the foundation. I guess I must have made some noise of shock or awe as my mom, Dad, and sister were now watching with me as the perfect buck casually walked behind the old foundation with only its antlers visible.
My dad leaned down and whispered, “Just be patient. A minute or so and it is going to reach the edge of the foundation and walk right out into that opening, and you can take your shot.”
So with all the patience I could muster, I waited. After a minute or so, the antlers disappeared. I figured he had put his head down to eat or something.
But a buck doesn’t get to be that size by being stupid. All of a sudden the buck shot out from behind that foundation headed for a thick group of pines only about 20 yards away. I was so taken aback, I never even got off a shot. The realization hit me pretty hard. I had just let the biggest deer any member of my family had ever seen slip right through my fingers.
No one said a word for a few minutes while we all tried to wrap our heads around what had just happened. Finally my dad said, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea he was going to do that. He acted so casual.”
I hunted every opportunity I could for the rest of rifle season and my dad hunted that entire archery season with hopes of seeing that buck again, but neither of us did.
In January of the following year, my mom was talking to a family friend, and he mentioned he took the largest deer he had ever seen about a mile from where I saw that buck. After seeing pictures and eventually the mount on his wall, I knew that he hadn’t let the big one get away like I had.
Even though I have learned that you don’t always get your deer and that I learned more from not getting that deer than I ever would have taking it, my dad still feels guilty about telling me to wait. So maybe I use that guilt to my advantage once in a while…
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