In November 2005, I headed north with my sons Alex and Travis to my uncle’s cabin in the remote town of Barnes. I have been hunting in that area for most of 40 years. The cabin is filled with memories of my grandmother’s kitchen, veterans playing cribbage, visiting neighbors, and preparing for the opening morning hunt. It was great that my grandmother woke us up in the morning for a buffet breakfast with eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and toast. Sadly, those days are over and now my children and I have to fend for ourselves.

Morning deer opening

After breakfast we packed our lunch and took our gear, which consisted of knives, pistols, bright orange jackets, and a good pair of warm boots. Walking out the door in the middle of the night on a cold, snowy November morning, waiting for the opener, gives me goose bumps. If you are a deer hunter, you will understand that we have been waiting almost a year to return to the forest.

As we walked to our deer stands, all I was thinking about was how many deer we were going to see and if this was the day one of us would connect with the elusive large white-tailed deer. We arrived at Travis’s post and helped him get his bearings before continuing our half-mile journey. It was almost at the top of a hill, right on the edge of thousands of pine trees that were planted in the 1940s by the CCCs. It looks out over a ravine that has always been a good natural track. To your right is an old railroad track and a small figure-eight lake that seems to get smaller every year. Travis loves this place!

Alex and I finished walking to our double post that was tied around a 12 to 14 foot poplar tree. It wasn’t the best tree for our booth, but there weren’t many options. Many of the pines were harvested in the last ten years, so we had quite a bit of downhill visibility. The sun began to rise above the trees as red squirrels and birds began to wake up the rest of the forest.

As we scanned the area, we saw a doe and a fawn circling in the undergrowth. At approximately 10:00 am, we had seen five deer move around us, but nothing too exciting. Then all of a sudden it happened! About 75 yards behind us was a small male with eight point horns feeding. Alex saw the ball, but couldn’t shoot until he got on the first path. With the wind blowing and the tree swaying, it looked like it would be a difficult shot. He took the shot and then I fired and we both missed terribly. About five minutes later we heard a gunshot by Travis’s booth. That sounded like good news!

An hour had passed and our minds were running wild with curiosity. We grabbed our gear and walked over to Travis’s stall where he was cleaning up after caring for the deer he shot. It was the same eight pointer that we lost earlier. We were ecstatic because although this was not his first deer, it was the first good buck for Travis. We finished hunting but were unsuccessful that afternoon. We walked back to the cabin to have some camaraderie with the rest of the boys.

Day two

The next day we decided to hike through some small wooded areas, focus on some stalking techniques, and do some short runs towards our fighters. We put some of our hunters in deer stands and the rest of the hunters walked through the woods hoping to get some deer out of their beds. There were some shots in the distance, but they were so far away that we knew they weren’t coming from any of our hunting party. As the afternoon wore on, one of my nephews got a good shot and dropped a huge doe in his path. The day was coming to an end so we decided to drive a small patch of forest more full of Scots pines and scrub. I told my son Alex to stand at the edge of the pines, where it opened up to a small grassy clearing where he could probably get a good open shot. He argued with me and said he was bored and tired of standing, so I said, “You’re going to be mad Alex, if I go in and shoot that whitetail monster!” He thought about it for a minute, looked at me, and reluctantly walked into the woods. He was standing behind a pile of dead remains overlooking an opening strewn with poplars, Scots pines, and small patches of brush. The rest of us were a quarter mile away when we heard the gun go off. There were two shots! We continued walking through the woods until we found Alex grinning from ear to ear. He explained to us that the male came out of the forest, raised his gun, fired his first shot and missed. For some reason, the male turned and walked directly toward Alex, giving him the rare opportunity to fire a second shot. That well-positioned shot dropped to 175 pounds, 19 1/4 inside spread, beautiful whitetail buck! He learned a good lesson about patience and calm. It was worth it!

My two sons shot a dollar that year, but I was left without it. It was still one of my best trips!

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