This was my first buck. Unfortunately, I'm not sure anymore what year it was. I'm guessing the late 1990's. Probably 1998. I do, however, remember the story:
(edit: found an old journal, it was 1992! much earlier than I suspected)
I was up to the Wisconsin House for opening weekend. This was back in the days of a crowded deer camp when Darlene's Uncles Doug and Dave were there as well as her cousin Dale and other friends of mine; Scott, Dave and Don.
It was a Sunday afternoon and I was heading into the area we call “The Mile Square”. The area is a large expanse of woods which we had been told to never go into without a compass. Because of the lack of landmarks it is very easy to get turned around in The Mile Square. I had been walking along the gravel road which delineates the line between the north end of The Mile Square and the south end of the Beverly Lake state land. I noticed what seemed to me to be some fairly fresh deer sign which had crossed the road into The Mile Square. What made the track even more desirable was that there were blood drops amongst the foot prints. There had been a lot of shooting earlier that day around Beverly Lake that day and I reasoned that some hunter had hit one and had not followed up his shot. I double checked to make sure I had my compass and followed the blood trail in.
I was slowly stalking into the woods and had traveled in less than 100 yards when I came to a partial clearing and some fallen logs. There were a lot of track in the snow around the area, I decided to sit on the log and observe for a while. I hadn't sat there long until I noticed movement. I couldn't believe my eyes, but there was a deer trying to sneak around behind me. I could actually see his raised tail moving along behind another fallen log! I raised my gun up and when he stepped into an opening I put my scope on him and pulled the trigger. The deer humped up and ran off. At this time in my excitement I didn't know if it was a buck or a doe. I had not noticed any antlers.
Being a novice deer hunter I then made some mistakes. I immediately started trying to find that deer. I went to where I thought I last saw him and started following some deer track. As I said, there were a lot of track in the area. I didn't have any tracking tape so I hung my hat in a branch so I could find my way back. I followed a blood trail which probably was the trail of the first deer I was following and not the one I shot at. I followed that trail quite a long way and then it was starting to get dark. I then convinced myself that I must have missed and back trailed back to my hat and then out to the road and back to my house.
When I got back, I told Uncle Dave what had happened, that I shot at a deer, that I never saw any antlers, it must have been a doe, I probably missed. He said to me, “What did the deer do when you pulled the trigger”. I said, “What do you mean?” “Did she hump up, was her tail up or down when it ran off?” “It humped up and ran off, I think her tail was down”. “Wayne, if she humped up, you gut shot her. You hit that deer and it is probably dying in the woods now”.
I now had a dilemma, Scott and I were due to go back to work in the morning and we had traveled together. I wanted to get that deer but I needed to head back to Minnesota. I told the Uncles the best I could about where I had been hunting and they said they'd look for it in the morning, Scott and I packed up and hit the road. I thought about that deer the whole three hour drive back to Scott's house. I dropped Scott off at about 9:00 PM and knew I was heading back to find my deer. I drove all the way back and was in my bed by midnight.
In the morning, we decided that Dave's son, Dale would help me find my deer. We drove down to the area and I followed my tracks in (thank the Lord for snow!). We found where I sat down on the log and I explained to Dale where I was sitting and where I thought the deer was and which way it ran off. Dale looked around in the snow for a minute and started wondering off into the woods in the wrong direction. I said “Dale I think you are going the wrong way”. “Just a minute” he said. I half heartily followed him and then heard him shout: “Wayne, I found your deer.... and it's a buck!”
The buck had laid down after only about 40 yards and died right there. It may have been a good thing I had followed the wrong trail the day before because, being gut shot, if I had followed the right trail I probably would have chased him from his bed and never recovered him. I now know that a gut shot deer needs hours to lay down and die. My ineptness provided those hours.
It was just a fork horn, but a big bodied deer for being so young. And, it was my first buck, a trophy to me!
