By Mike Sherman
Grandpa would have been proud...
The 2012 deer season was a little different for me. I lost my grandpa last July. He was a huge part of my life and my deer season. As you can imagine, it was going to be a very emotional deer season. One of the passions Grandpa and I shared was deer hunting. I remember one discussion we had about what our dream buck would be like. I told him mine was a mature buck with chocolate horns and split brow tines.
There were about ten people that hunted our farm on the Monday morning of gun season. We all had our favorite spots picked out before we walked in the woods. It was still a little dark as we walked into the woods and I sat down up against a big oak tree. As it got daylight, I had to laugh because beside me was a can that my grandpa had left behind last year. You should never do that but this one time it was OK because it was confirmation I had picked the right spot.
I had sat there for about an hour before the action started. Down the holler came eight deer, four does and four bucks. The bucks looked to be in full rut. They were going crazy. It looked like something you would see in bow season. The bucks were sparring and chasing the does everywhere. It seemed like it went on forever but I’m sure it was only about ten minutes or so. I was hunting within sight of three other hunters as the deer ran straight up the other side toward one of the other hunters I thought I was going to miss a great opportunity . Then all the deer turned and headed right back at me. Now it was crunch time. There seemed to be deer everywhere. As I looked at all the bucks, I tried to pick out the biggest buck. I kept my eye on him and still couldn’t tell how big he was at this distance. The he finally walked into my shooting lane. I aimed and squeezed the trigger. The buck did a heel kick and stumbled into the brush. I knew I had made a good shot. Then a few seconds later, he came right back into the same shooting lane and I squeezed off another shot. This time he dropped right there. At this point, I had no clue how big he was, if he was big and there were still deer running all over the place. I sat there for probably a half hour or so until all the other deer were gone. It was finally time to get my hands on this buck. As I finally got to where I could see him it was a little overwhelming. I saw a mature, chocolate horn, split brow-tine buck. It just made me laugh and say “thanks Grandpa.” This may not be the best deer story you’ve ever heard, but it means a lot to me.