Back Home Georgia Buck
One cold, rainy October day, after talking to an old farmer friend on a remote gravel road in Georgia, I found myself with access to an awesome piece of property being long time family friends with owner. Diving into an all-day scouting junket of the large acreage, I quickly became aware of the fact that many good bucks called the property home. It was quite clear that I should be able to cherry-pick a couple of large-antlered bucks from the location come November. Hanging a few stands, I headed home, excitedly looking forward to my return visit in early-November.
Pulling back into the area on November 5, I was pumped. Hitting the ground running, I headed for the tree stands that I'd hung on my earlier trip. The corn fields were harvested, the rut was beginning to crank and action was soon in coming. I headed to another stand that I'd been saving as an ace-in-the-hole. Though I knew the stand was in an excellent place, I also knew that I'd be fairly skylined in the tree. First time in the stand, a big buck strolled right up to me, looked at me in the tree, and blasted off. Frustrated, and even more hardheaded, I blew the event off as happenstance. I'd try again in a few days.
A couple of days later, the wind was right for hunting my corn field stand again, so off I went. Warm clothes underneath, I proudly donned my new camo as an outer layer. Settling into my tree stand as morning light came I scanned the area intently for any signs of an approaching deer. First on the scene was a group of five mature does. Never once glancing up into the sky toward me, the does passed at 20 yards. Wow, this might work! I smiled inside.
About an hour after sun rise, I grabbed my rattling antlers and thrashed them together for a short while. Hearing brush breaking, I had the presence of mind to grab my bow and assume the position. Instantly, a large buck came running up to my location, slamming to a stop at about 15 yards, as the big buck scanned the area intently. I was sure he would spot me in short order. Not daring to move, I remained frozen, praying for good luck. In a moment, the big buck started moving hurriedly forward through some brush. Slipping my bowstring back to my face, I voiced a loud "uurp." Coming to an abrupt stop, the brute, glared about the area again. This time however, I was ready. Spying a small opening over the buck's ribcage, my crossbow up bolt gone in a flash. At the shot, the buck jumped, sprinted then crashed out of eye site. About 25 yards later, there he was another on for my record books.