Pre-Occupied Bucks & Pre-Occupied Hunters

Pre-Occupied Bucks & Pre-Occupied Hunters
By Tommy Sedlak

There I was, on a clear cool day in November and it was the rut. I took a vacation day for the Friday hunt. This was the first time I used a vacation day for the rut and planned to make the most of it. You see, I have been lucky enough to shoot bucks every year for the past several years, but have yet to bag the wall hanger. Each year I get an opportunity at a legal buck, and I take it, thinking, if it were meant to be, then the first opportunity would be a wall hanger. But this year I decided early that I was not about to settle for anything less.

After passing on a very uneven 7-point and very small 8-point in the morning, bucks that quite honestly the year prior I would have taken at first opportunity, I grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed to my afternoon spot. My afternoon spot was a ground blind next to a row of old apple trees and green field that I consistently see deer from, a spot that I fondly refer to as “old faithful.” This is one of those honey-hole spots that when the going gets tough and deer aren’t moving, this is where I go. I like to think that if we all had to literally start hunting to put food on the table, this would be my first choice. In deer hunting terms, there is no such thing as a sure thing, but there are better than average odds and even Vegas wouldn’t take any action against this spot. Although I always see deer, rarely do I see shooter bucks, but this was the rut and everything is different. My plan was to let the does filter in and, hopefully, a big buck will follow; after all, this was the rut. It should be almost like hunting bear over a baited stand, or so I thought.

After several hours without seeing a deer, I began to doubt my plan. No deer filtering into the field as the sun began to set. This was the longest I have ever sat at this spot without seeing a deer. Did my luck run out? Did my honey-hole dry up? What would I do if it really came to putting food on the table? These questions flurried through my head like late October leaves falling from the trees during a windstorm.
Just when I think it’s over, something changes the tide. That’s what is so great about this sport: one minute it can be calm and peaceful and the next it can have the adrenaline rush and excitement of scoring a knockout to win the heavyweight championship of the world. I suddenly heard something to my left, the kind of sound that makes you instinctively grab your bow while keeping your eyes on the area of origin causing the noise. It was a big mature doe that stepped out onto the edge of the field along the crab apple row. Presenting herself at 25 yards and approaching, she was going to walk past the blind at a mere 3-5 yards. When she hit the small rebel bush between the blind and tree row, I pulled back thinking, although this was not a buck, she would fill the freezer and tomorrow might be the day for a nice buck. Simply put, I was about to settle. Waiting for her to clear into an opening while still at full draw, I noticed something behind her. There he was – a nice wide rack 8-point with a massive neck, hot on her trail and, better yet, neither knew I was there.

I let the doe pass as the buck approached; thinking I might get busted, he couldn’t get into my shooting lane quickly enough, but when he did, I would be ready. Peep - Top pin - kisser - at front shoulder height, still at full draw, one last step was all I needed. With that one step, our eyes met, I released my arrow from my Hoyt compound. The jig was up and we both knew it. I capitalized on his mistake, something that if he hadn’t had other things on his mind I would never have had my opportunity. Thank God for pre-occupied bucks, especially big ones. My arrow was true, only having to travel a mere 12 feet to hit its target. A complete pass-through, as the blood-soaked arrow stood visible in the leaf-covered, green field edge.

From past experience, I started counting the seconds while it’s visible. One Mississippi, two Mississippi; you get the idea. There is something about counting and associating a number with the precise second you last see the deer that helps you determine its last visible location. For me, it works. For this buck, my three-fingered Uncle Lucky could have completed the task as I reached the high number of one! The buck ran no more than 20 yards. As I watched the brute sway from side to side and his wide ivory antlers kiss the green field, I finally took a breath. As I pondered my success and approached the majestic trophy, I interestingly enough thought of the doe and the smaller bucks I passed earlier in the day. In prior seasons, and almost this season, I would have taken that doe and certainly would have taken the other two antler-challenged bucks. Was I much like the pre-occupied bucks? Had I been pre-occupied with filling my tag so much that it clouded my judgment? I am not sure if my past hunting experiences would have reaped larger animals had I passed on the smaller ones, but without passing, I will never know.