Confessions of an Antler Addict

[Mike P]

My wife told me this morning that I had moved from obsession to addiction. I didn’t argue with her, I knew she was right. We were sitting in front of the Vermont Castings stove this morning having our coffee and reading the newspaper when she made her observation. It was the first time in over three weeks that we had shared this time of the morning together. I am well into my morning hunt normally at this time but I didn’t go out this morning even though there was a fresh inch of snow on the ground. And I dearly love to hunt the snow. This morning my heart was not in it. I had spent a restless night and slept little as I could not purge the thoughts of the hunt yesterday.

I made my move on my 160 point buck. He had entered the cedar thicket on top of the saddle from the same entrance four days in a row. I was counting on a fifth when I arrived at the top of the saddle that morning about seven. I was in no hurry. He didn’t arrive until after 9:45 and never later then 10:15 so I could pick my tree and climb with leisure. I knew approximately where he made his bed and I wanted a spot between the crest of the saddle where he came up from the creek below and before the actual bedding location. I found a very tall and straight oak twenty yards off what I guessed to be the trail he used and climbed twenty-five feet. I pulled up the Phoenix and settled in for the close to three hour wait I knew was ahead of me.

I had invested an entire season in this buck. I was growing weary with each passing day in the woods. Of the 110 or so days of the whitetail archery season so far this year, I had hunted over 90. My 59 year old body was telling me it was time to stop this foolishness. My mind wouldn’t let me. I was still driven, still possessed with the thoughts of my first encounter with this buck when I screwed up the shot. I ran that scenario over and over again in my mind while I sat in the timber tall climber and waited for him.

I thought about the season. I thought about all of the bucks I had seen and I thought about the ones that I allowed to pass under me without taking the shot. I liked thinking about those bucks. I knew that I would have other encounters with many of these same bucks in future seasons and that thought brought me comfort.

I thought about the doe I killed in the cornfield with my black powder rifle. It was time for me to admit that killing this doe brought me little joy. I killed her under the guise of putting fresh meat in the freezer. But who was I kidding; I didn’t need to kill her to put meat in the freezer. I have the wherewithal to put what ever I want in my freezer be it pork, beef, lamb or fish. It was time for me to face a very harsh fact. I knew sitting in the climber that morning that the doe I killed in the cornfield right after Christmas was the very last doe I would ever kill in my life. It was time for me to face the truth. I don’t hunt for meat. There was a time in my life when I did. But that time was long in the past.

I hunt for antlers and it was time for me to face the fact. And it was very clear to me that I did not hunt for just any antlers. No, I had to hunt for a bigger set of antlers then the last set that fell to my arrow. I had to hunt the animal that had eluded all others. And when you stepped back and took a look at what I was doing, it became very clear that I was in it for the game. I was in it for the mind game. It was me against him. It was my wits and cunning against all his senses and his intimate knowledge of his habitat. It had become a contest. It was no longer a hunt.

I knew sitting in that climber that morning that I was going to make the final commitment. I knew I would never kill another whitetail under 150 points. It was time for me to admit what I had become and allow myself to be completely engulfed by the dark side. I was an antler junkie!

It was ten o’clock when he crested the top of the saddle. He was taking the same route he had taken for the last four days. He would pass in front of me within twenty yards. I had the Phoenix in hand and there would be virtually no movement from me until my thumb would click off the safety. I was calm as he approached. I would not succumb to nervousness or any semblance of “buck fever.” There had been too many years and too many bucks. There are times when I find it hard to remember that rush of excitement that I felt as a boy at the approach of a buck. This was going to be a textbook kill and my investment of so many days away from the comforts of the house was going to pay its final dividend.

For some reason he stopped on the trail leading to his bed approximately forty yards from my tree. He just stood there and looked. I of course knew this look. I have seen this look countless times from countless mature whitetail bucks. He didn’t smell me. He didn’t see me. Yet for some unknown reason, he knew all was not as it should be. I don’t know how long he stood there and looked but I would guess it was close to a full two minutes. He didn’t stomp a foot. He didn’t put his head to the ground only to look up quickly. He just stood there and looked. And then he slowly turned and walked back the path from the direction he came. When he came to the edge of the saddle, he looked back for one last time and then walked over the edge and back down to the creek bed below. I knew it was the last time I would see him this season.

I also knew I would not kill a buck this season. There are around twelve days left, but I think I am finished. I played the game. He beat me. He got lucky on our first encounter due to my stupid mistake. But he didn’t use luck for this second encounter. He played his trump card and used a survival instinct known only to him and other mature bucks. He played his card and he walked away.

The man said in the song “you got to know when to fold them.” I think he was right. As of this morning, I fold.

[fletch]

Very riveting reading, well done.
Sometimes you have go "all in" just to prove yourself and you still have time. Go get him if you want him.

[Normous]

Wow, a very nice and enjoyable read Mike. You have such a writing talent, and thanks for sharing you personal thoughts with us. We look into your personal life and day to day hunting. Sounds awfully tough have that addiction. Not a bad one the way I see it, better than most. Sitting around the glowing stove at this time of year sounds nice to me.

[MADMAX2]

Well put, but what about hunting down to the wire?I myself could not quit until the very end then he wins!!for me its an affliction or a sickness way past addiction I think I need an INTERVENTION.Great story thank you for sharing.

[crazyfarmer]

Mike, you need to start writing a book:)

I had a decent season... 1 mounted and 2 on boards. Still in search of the King of the Woods but it will wait untill next Oct:) But hell, it really never ends. Ive been out pruning trees, putting new tree steps on trees in new spots for next year so all I have to do is hang the stands in August and hopefully no trimming will be needed

Next month and March is shed hunting season though

[huntman]

sorry it didnt work out for you this year Mike! But at least you had a "chance" at him. Im sure you play that momment over and over in your head, especially at night when your teying to fall asleep. I know i think about the big 12 pointer that i screwed up on!

[awshucks]

awesome read, Mike. thank-you!

[DropTine]

Why aren't you working with a publishing company? Awesome read Mike!

[Fishn-Hunter]

Very well written story Mike, you should write for magazines and books. I know exaclty what you are talking about, my 02 and 03 season played out very much the same way and left me humbled by the crafty critters like never before. I learned alot in those 2 seasons, just when you think you have them figured out they play the wild card and it is game over. However 12 days still leaves enough time to play the winner takes all match.

[Partikle]

Excellent post. Thanks for the great read.

[xbowking]

Hi Mike , sounds like you know this buck very well , i say dont give up , you have several days left , you can out smart him , hunt him until the last day ,if you dont get him , then you can say he beat you , but there is still time , the cards are still on the table , take the game to the end , i have a feeling you just might win .

[Daniele]

Thank you for sharing,
great talent you have in telling it but much more in FEELING as you feel,
way harder to walk away at this point than when you know you aren't allowed to anymore.
Kudos to you, i am 59 in a few days and i know it's not easy to do it alone but there is the drive to, lucky for you to also have all the time to keeping it up.
Daniele

[Country]

I hunt up to the last second of the season. You all know the feeling that comes over you as the light starts to fade on that last day. It's a very personel time sitting there in the dimming light reflecting on all the things that have happened during the year. Unloading your gun or taking the arrow off the riser is a hard thing to do and it seems to get even harder as you get older. Will I see another season or is this the last one?

[rutman]

Great read!
You did get something pretty special out of the experience.
You got the memory!

[Country]

Now that were all down in the mouth lamenting the end of the season we should take heart like Crazy Farmer and look towards next year. Now is the time to memorize late winter trails, cut shooting lanes in the thickets, discover bedding areas, place screw in steps, etc.. Hunting is ingrained in your heart. Get out to see what made it through the year. Plan new approaches to get that one that kept eluding you during this past season. Place mineral blocks for antler growth, maybe even plan on that food plot you've been thinking about. Getting out in the woods eases the pain and keeps the anticipation alive. If we were couch potatoes we wouldn't be hunters.