Some
of my fondest memories as a kid growing up in Maine and New
Hampshire were of my Dad and me during the fall months. Whether
we were working fields with our German shorthairs looking for
partridge, woodcock, and pheasant or whether we were in the
woods out behind the house waiting to launch a slug out of our
shot guns at a big bodied whitetail, that was the time of year I
loved the best. There was just something special about the
combination of fall colors, the smell of fallen leaves and woody
chimney smoke, crisp mornings, and being with that retired
Marine Gunny Sergeant and World War II scout sniper I called
Dad. He was a special concoction of Christian values, love,
discipline, skills, and work ethic that made others, including
me, respect him, love him, and fear him. He didn’t give “the
look” often, but when he did it was time to quit doing whatever
caused you to get it. No words were necessary, and the moniker
“Iron Mike” was well deserved. Dad died October 19, 2006 at age
86. Upon returning to Texas from New Hampshire after my
father’s funeral, I knew that I needed to get out of Dodge and
clear my head. After a week of going through the motions at
work, I called my good friend Robert Hodges in Memphis, TX. and
headed up to the Panhandle for opening day of rifle season.
Robert and Suzi Hodges are the proprietors of Triple H
Outfitters, “home of the bruiser buck.” Robert and I go back
several years, and we have spent a lot of time together hunting
deer, hogs, turkey, and the occasional varmint or two with both
our guns and our bows. Robert is salt of the earth, and he and
his Dad have provided for their families by farming cotton and
peanuts from the land that surrounds the house that Robert grew
up in. That same small house now serves as the lodge for the
select few hunters that Robert guides each year for both
whitetail and mule deer. Both species coexist this part of the
Panhandle, with the mulie population having migrated there many
moons ago via the Palo Duro Canyon. Although mule deer are
commonly much larger than their whitetail cousins, especially in
Texas, that is not the case in this part of the world. Robert
and his clients frequently harvest whitetail bucks that weigh
well over 250 lbs. As a matter of fact, I was hunting with
Robert last year when he took a 145-inch whitetail that tipped
the Toledo at close to 300 lbs! If you are lucky enough to book
a hunt with Robert during mule deer season (Nov. 18-Dec. 3, this
year), you will have your choice of a whitetail or a mule deer,
or both for an additional kill fee. Everything here is free
range.
Robert met me at the lodge when I arrived, and told me that
there were a lot of good deer this year in places that we didn’t
see many last year. Then he told me about a new piece of land
that he had leased to replace a parcel that he was unable to
renew. It was a creek bottom that was heavily wooded and that
bordered pastureland and a wheat field. Robert said that he had
scouted it a few times, and had seen a lot of deer and some “big
deer” sign but had been basically leaving it alone until the
hunters arrived.
On opening day, I hunted a place known to me only as “Little
Henry’s”. It resembled an amphitheatre, with a terraced CRP
meadow that spilled downhill to a creek bottom over grown with
salt cedars and mesquite thickets. I had bow hunted it and gun
hunted it on several occasions, had seen several decent bucks,
but had only taken a couple of does and several hogs in the
past. Shortly before sunrise, I saw several deer come down the
CRP terrace along a natural funnel. Then I saw another deer
stand up. I put my Nikon ATB 10 x 42’s on it and could barely
make out that it was sporting headgear. The next thing that I
noticed was the size of its neck and shoulders. Mule deer or
whitetail I asked myself? It was hard to tell in the pre-dawn
light, but then I was able to see some of the detail of his head
and his antlers. No forked G2s, and no big ears. Whitetail. I
put my range finder on him, 378 yards. There was no way I was
going to take that shot in this light even though I had recently
completed Robert Duhon’s long range rifle course at Texas Pistol
Academy (www.texaspistol.com),
and my Sako Model 75, .300 Win. Mag and I were proven out to 600
yards. I watched and made note as he vanished into the thick
salt cedars. I was unable to tell what he might have scored,
but I knew he was a mature, big bodied deer that was definitely
a shooter. I would see him one more time but no shot would be
taken.
On
Monday evening, the third day of my hunt, I saw two does and a
button buck come into an open area about 120 yards away. It was
about 6:00 and the sun was starting to melt and fade into the
horizon to my right. Off to my left my peripheral vision
detected movement. I looked over and saw what I knew to be a
deer moving at a steady pace through the brush in the general
direction of the other three deer. I grabbed my binoculars …
“Good Lord, look at that drop tine. Look at that rack, there’s
stuff sticking out in all different directions. He looks like a
pin cushion.” I grabbed my Sako, shouldered it and got a good
solid rest. “Is he going to step out from the tree line and
check out the does? Don’t wait.” He started to thrash a
mesquite tree. As he was thrashing the heck out of the tree…
“Put the cross-hairs right at the crease on the tip of the
elbow. Relax. Come on, stop thrashing.” Trash head stopped
momentarily and looked towards the does… “Safety off. Fire in
the hole. Breathe in. Breathe out. Natural respiratory
pause. Draw the stock into the shoulder and curl the finger
around the trigger, steadily drawing the gun into your shoulder
as you curl your finger around the trigger and increase
pressure…KABOOM!” The shot broke by surprise. The 180-grain
Winchester XP3 found its mark exactly where the cross hairs were
centered when the shot broke. The buck flinched, turned 90
degrees to his right, and ran straight at me. In three steps he
was at full stride. At five steps he was at full speed. At
eight steps he was out on his feet and dead before he hit the
ground. He never so much as twitched after he came to rest in a
heap. Then I looked up and gave thanks. “Praise God, thank you
Jesus.”
I
could see the deer clearly on the ground about 100 yards away
from me. My heart was racing and my brain was trying to process
what had just occurred… “I just killed the biggest deer of my
life…There he is… He’s not moving…I whacked him…What time is
it?… 6:03 p.m. How long do I wait…Do I wait a half hour…He’s
right there and he’s not moving… I think he’s already dead…I
guess I should wait 30 minutes just to be safe.” Not. At 6:20
I could no longer contain myself. I could see that the deer was
not breathing and, after many replays in my mind’s eye, I knew
that I had shot him through both lungs and probably had gotten
the heart as well. I crept down out of my stand and cautiously
walked towards the prickly pear antlers, gun at the ready with
another XP3 in the chamber. I stopped every 10 yards or so to
assess and look for any movement or signs of life. There were
none. When I closed the distance of the last ten yards, I could
tell that the buck had expired. There was a lot of arterial
blood on the ground and coming from his mouth, confirming the
lethal placement of the shot in the heart and lungs along with a
neat exit wound. I gave him a quick poke anyway just to make
sure. I couldn’t believe it. He was huge. He had drop tines,
sticker points, kickers, mass, and long main beams.
I
called Robert on my way back to the lodge. When he answered the
phone I said, “I got him. I finally shot a big one.” Robert
was quick on the reply, “Don’t tell me anything. Not a thing.
I will meet you back at the lodge. I want to be surprised.”
“But…” “No,
don’t tell me anything, I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”
When
Robert pulled up, the buck was laying on the back of my
tailgate. Robert took one look at him, started to laugh, and
then turned to me and gave me a huge hug. I couldn’t be any
happier—well, maybe a little happier if he was in my truck.”
Then he just took another look and starting smiling.
“Seriously, there is no one I would rather see shoot a deer like
this than you. God truly blessed you tonight.” “You got
that right,” I replied.
After taking a lot of pictures, Robert and I weighed and
measured the bruiser. He weighed in right at 300 lbs, and had
17 score-able points of one inch or longer. He was a main frame
10 with 7 additional points, making him a 17-point non-typical.
What he lacked in tine length and spread, he more than made up
for with character, his main beams, mass, and extras. All in
all he green scored 185 ¾ Boone & Crocket points.
In
the aftermath, on my drive home, I began to process what I had
done. I had seen and shot a free-range deer that the vast
majority of hunters will never see, except in magazines. It was
by far the biggest deer of my hunting career, and the odds are
it is likely to be the biggest deer that I will ever shoot. But
as happy as I am with the feat, bagging this buck of a lifetime
is bittersweet and carries with it the element of sadness.
After I shot him and gave thanks, I just wanted to call my Dad
and share the whole thing with him. Dad, this buck’s for you.
Hunt hard, and
enjoy the shot.
T. Michael Kennedy
For more
information, or to book with Triple H Outfitters, call Robert
and Suzi Hodges at 806-867-3121(email
bruiserbuck@amaonline.com.)
