New Experiences

I started whitetail hunting in East Texas when I was about eight years old with my relatives. Hunting was a recreational activity for me until I approached my late twenties. I began attending seminars, classes, and hunting expos. I watched a lot of television shows about hunting and I couldn’t seem to learn enough. I ended up developing a product for the hunting industry, which triggered me to get further involved. The adventure of the manufacturing and retail process allowed me to experience things I never thought possible. Some of the industry professionals I once longed to meet have now become friends. Though I became somewhat educated about deer hunting and the associated trades, my field experience with whitetails was mostly limited to my time in the East Texas woods. This changed when I was invited on a five-day filmed hunt in Willow Springs, Missouri. I had always been told that East Texas was some of the hardest hunting in the United States, so the upcoming trip seemed like it was going to be a piece of cake. After all, I’ve seen a lot of hunting shows on television and they make it look like a walk in the park. It can’t be anything near as tough as the East Texas hunting that I know. It was late October and the time of the trip had finally arrived. I pulled up to the camp at nighttime and met my fellow hunters. We introduced ourselves and told a few stories about our history and how we were involved in the hunting industry. The hunters and cameramen paired up, started looking at maps, and discussed strategies for the morning hunt. Luckily for me, my cameraman was a Missouri native familiar with hunting in the state. We decided to start the morning in a pop-up blind overlooking a food plot. When the sun broke the next morning, I saw an unfamiliar forest. It was mature woods with an open floor and the topography was very hilly. We had a few young deer come through the food plot and a few animals that I had only seen in pictures. A couple of hours into the hunt, my cameraman suggested leaving the blind to do a little stalk hunting. I had never been exposed to this and had zero faith in this plan. The woods I’m accustomed to are mostly tall trees with thick underbrush. Our hunters typically cut lanes through the woods and sit in one spot hoping the deer cross their path. I couldn’t imagine seeing any deer while out on foot, but against my better judgment I complied with the request. We started walking and I was immediately told that I needed to slow down. I began to learn the art of stalk hunting. Take a step slowly and look through the binocular—take another step. It was no time at all when we saw a young buck. I couldn’t believe it. We were spotting deer before they saw us. This carried on several days through the open forest and mountainous terrain. The weather was constantly changing from windy to raining and cold to hot. I gained a whole new respect for hunters in this region because my feet were blistered and calf muscles were tight. On day three, I had the opportunity to shoot a 4 ½-year-old, but allowed him to pass with hope of finding a bigger buck. The next morning I began to regret my decision because the animal movement had slowed. I started having thoughts that this wasn’t going to happen and I missed my only opportunity. Luckily, that evening we caught a glimpse of a heavy antlered buck. Unluckily, he caught a glimpse of us as well right before he fled. Darkness fell and we headed back to camp. I couldn’t stop thinking about that deer and barely slept at all that night. The next day we were scheduled to leave after the morning hunt. I only had one opportunity left. This time we decided to forego watching the sun come up from the comfort of our blind and started out stalk hunting in the area that we had last seen the heavy-antlered giant. We paid careful attention to the wind direction and moved slowly through the woods. Not long into the hunt, we spotted the buck bedded down. We began to position ourselves for a shot when the unthinkable happened. He got up and ran away. We knew this buck was our last hope, so we trailed him. We had to guess at certain points which way he went and made a lot of decisions based on the wind. He was gone forever.   It had been two hours since we last saw him and had lost all hope. We continued to walk up and down the hills quietly and at a snail’s pace. As we crested the next hill, I said, “There’s a buck! IT’S HIM!” We lined up for the shot and I placed the bullet perfectly into the giant’s vitals. I couldn’t believe it. I almost fell over with excitement and gratitude for the assistance from my cameraman, the person who invited me, and God for giving me this wonderful opportunity. I had worked extremely hard for this deer and I had never had as many highs and lows on a hunt as I did through this experience. Upon my return to my home state with my new trophy, my friends asked me if it was an easy hunt. I replied that it was in no way, shape, or form an easy hunt. They asked if it was easier than hunting East Texas. I said it wasn’t easier, just different. This five-day trip offered more lessons to me than I had encountered in my previous twenty-three years. I met some lifelong friends, learned a new style of hunting, had my hunt filmed for the first time, saw many of God’s wonderful creations, and harvested the buck of a lifetime that I will never forget.