Let's hear y’alls best rut hunts or most memorable

[ugajay]

still to this day I get so tore up after killing a deer no telling what I've forgot?

I'm the exact same way. It's a feeling I love and pray it never goes away!

 

[ugajay]

My most memorable rut was one I posted about back in 2013 on here as the story of my first deer. Here's my story.

I believe it was 1982 when I was 11 years old. My dad, grandfather and I had built a stand down in the river swamp of the Oconee river not far from Glenwood, GA. I recall we didn't have enough lumber to finish it so we cut down an "ironwood" tree as my grandfather called it to finish the last 3 or 4 steps. We had built quite a few stands in the swamp just before the season started. This one was in a small slough off the river that was probably covered in water most of the summer.
My father had bought me a Winchester 1200 20 gauge shotgun the year before from Otasco. I had killed quite a few squirrels with it but was still too small to pump the action without setting the butt of the gun down on my knee and pumping it.
The season started and I was still sitting in the stand with my dad. We ran off a buck one morning climbing down from the stand in the slough so he said we'd hunt it again the next morning to see if it tended a small scrape it had started. My brother Nick was hunting with us that next morning. I remember it was fairly cool because I was wearing the warmest clothes I had at the time but Nick had on his old hole filled tiger striped camouflage. I always thought those were the coolest camo. Nick always seemed to have the coolest stuff. I rarely got to see him back then so it was a big deal for him to be there hunting with us. He and my dad were carrying their Remington 742 30-06's. I had the 20 gauge that was nearly as tall as me. I was wearing one of those vinyl red vests they made back then before the quiet mesh ones came out. That thing made an awful racket. After what seemed like a walk of 10 miles into the swamp in the pitch black, Nick detoured off to a beaver pond. My dad and I continued on for another 20 miles or so it seemed to my short legs. We finally came to the stand with the ironwood limbs as steps. My dad asked if I wanted to sit alone and he'd sit on the ground a couple of hundred yards behind me. Of course, I jumped all over the idea. I climbed up, he handed the shotgun to me and I loaded it up with three number 3 buckshot. The last thing my dad said was, "if you shoot one, shoot it twice to be sure". He walked off behind me and disappeared into the swamp. After a while, the sun came up and I started recognizing things around me from when we sat there the previous day. Squirrels were doing their thing all over the place and even running up and down the tree I was in. Giant great horned owls were winging their way through the swamp back to whatever tree holes they lived in during the day. I can remember it almost seemed primeval back in those swamps. They hadn't been cut since my grandfather had been a child and the lumber company came the very next year and clear cut most of it to the ground. To me, it almost seemed like the swamp was underground and the lumber company had just uncovered it like it was a hole waiting to be found.
But not that morning. The sun had to get up pretty high before it was very light at all. The trees blocked a lot of the light and it stayed pretty cool because of it. Finally, I could see fairly well. I was trying to remember everything my dad and Nick had taught me over the past few years. Move your eyes before you move your head when you're looking around. Move slowly and don't jerk around or fidget in your seat even though that plywood I was sitting on was not the least bit comfortable and the blood to my legs was getting cut off by it. Keep the brim of your hat down so your face doesn't shine. Keep your head covered. (I had platinum blonde hair as a child). While I was trying to remember everything they had said, I looked over to my right and saw a 6 point buck about 50 yards away. Strange, but I wasn't that nervous. I had seen deer before plenty of times in the pastures and woods so seeing this one didn't make me that shaky. He was feeding on acorns and slowly walking a half circle of a path that was going to lead in front of me. My dad had pointed out a few trees to remember on our previous hunts in the stand. "Don't shoot one if they are farther than this" he had said. It was about 30-35 yards to those trees, but it might as well have been 30 miles as well as I could judge distance back then, but it didn't matter. That 6 point kept plodding on, eating acorns and stopping every 10-12 steps. I had eased off the plywood torture seat and was sitting crouched on one knee on the platform of the stand. Right on queue, he stopped in a clearing right in front of the stand next to one of the trees my dad had pointed out. I eased the safety off between my fingers so it wouldn't click, just like dad and Nick had showed me. I pulled the shotgun up tight and put the bead just above his shoulder. When I pulled the trigger, he dropped like he'd been hit by lightning and started to flop around. Remembering what dad had said about shooting it twice, I sat the butt on the stand platform and racked another shell into the chamber. By this point, any calm feelings I may have had left me completely. I had a deer on the ground and I was determined to keep him there if it meant throwing the gun at him. Aiming as best I could, (which wasn't so good at all I discovered later), I let fly another dose of number 3 buckshot. Again, I racked the slide on the Winchester and tried to steady the bead on the deer. Boom! (It's funny, I don't recall hearing noise at all) I fired my final shell at the flopping deer and was terrified that he might get up and run off before my shaking hands could load some more shells into the shotgun. I figured the best thing to do was to yell for help before the deer took off, so I hollered as loud as I could. "Hurry up before he gets away Dad, Hurry up dang it!!!" I'm sure I ruined the hunting in the surrounding counties by yelling so loud.
Within a few minutes, Dad came walking up. Smiling, he asked, "Did you get him"? Grinning back at him, I said "Yeah, he's laying on the ground over there". We walked up to the deer from the blind side and poked it in the eye to be sure (something they never do on the hunting shows, and one of my pet peeves!). Grave yard dead he was. I felt like the greatest hunter who ever lived. For just a few minutes on that glorious morning in the swamp, maybe I was. I then discovered the bad part of deer hunting. Dragging the deer. In the days before 3 wheelers, 4 wheelers, golf carts, and Kubota’s, deer required dragging. Its a delicate art, make no mistake. I understand now why so many hunters die of heart attacks in the woods. Finally, after dragging the 6 pointer for 20 miles or so, Nick took my place and dragged it the rest of the way for me. They sent me ahead to get the truck, but I couldn't get it started. Not much of a driver back then I guess.
While cleaning the buck at my grandparents house, we found that someone had shot the buck the previous year in the hind quarter with what appeared to be bird shot. It didn't penetrate the meat, but was all stuck in the hide. Proof that there were idiots in the woods back in those days too! Dad found where I had hit the buck with 6 number 3 buckshot in the shoulder area. One of the shot had gone through the heart. Obviously those insurance shots I took were wasted money, but they certainly made me feel better at the time! Pictures of me and the buck were taken and festivities ensued.
The next year, the swamp was clear cut. I recall my dad saying, "You'll be my age before it looks like it did again". A few years later when I was a much more mature 14, we found the old stand while scouting the clear cut swamp. The ironwood steps were nearly rotted away but the lumber company had left the tree with the stand, I suppose because of the nails in it. Despite being too rotten to use, I was glad it was still there.
Well, 31 years (38 years now!) have passed since that morning. Dad was right, the swamp did eventually grow back. Not the same swamp I remember, or at least when I saw it last, which was about 8 years back. I still have the Winchester 20 gauge, but I couldn't tell you the last time I shot it. I even still have some of the number 3 buckshot my dad had bought at the Otasco. I graduated up to a rifle a few years after my first buck, so the 20 gauge didn't get used much. My nephew Warren used it for a while when he was little, which he didn't stay for long. He was probably the last to shoot it, but I keep it clean and oiled in the safe so it's ready to go at a moments notice in case a squirrel dares to run across the roof of my house.
I've killed quite a few deer since that morning, although it took nearly 8 seasons before I killed my second buck. After that one, there was a whole bunch I killed when I had access to a lot of fraternity brothers farms. Since then, I've hunted heavy some years and not at all others, but every year about this time, I think about that first buck and how much more fun hunting was to me back then. If I have my way, my wife and I will be buying a new house this year with some acreage attached. I believe I'll take up hunting and see if I can't make it fun again like it was back then.

It's been 7 years since I shared that story on this forum. As luck would have it, 3 years after I wrote this my wife and I did find a little piece of property with a house on it and I enjoy hunting my little 15 acres every year. This little place has really brought back the passion of hunting to me after I lost it from bad experiences with hunting clubs.
I've let dozens of does and several small bucks walk on this property and haven't pulled the trigger on a single one of them but this year, that's going to change. I've decided the free passes are over. I'm craving some bacon wrapped grilled backstrap. I'll be dropping a buck or doe soon and it will be a deer of many firsts, just like the story of my first deer. It will be the first deer on my property and my first with a muzzleloader. I'm hoping it will be tomorrow morning!
Hope y'all enjoyed my story.
RT

That's one of my all time favorite hunting stories! Thanks for sharing that again

 

[gma1320]

Probably my favorite did not involve a kill. It was right before dark and I was walking out of the woods at my Bartow county property a big buck ran away from me along the wood line at the edge of the field. I thought that was cool I hope I get a chance to shoot him tomorrow. As I am saying this to myself I hear a big commotion coming right at me through the thicket. So I think to myself, great I ain't got to wait for the morning. I get ready to shoot and all the sudden a doe pops out with a small buck on her tail. They are running right for me and I freeze up like a deer in the headlights. They came within 2 feet of me before realizing something is wrong and veering slightly around me. All the while I am standing there half amazed, half thinking I'm about to get trampled by 2 deer.

 

[ROLLTIDE 33]

November 17 2019 sitting in tree stand but had not seen much. Hear grunting from my right coming in behind the stand. A first time estrous doe runs behind me and I knew instantly BIG BOY was following. 20yard shot the rest is HISTORY!!! 153 inch Beast. Not my biggest deer but one of my favorite hunts!

 

[Rebel 3]

I was in middle Georgia and has just passed up a 130s 10pt and he came by me hot on a doe. I thought he was a 150 8pt. I was sitting on the ground and got positioned for a shot at my next and last opening. The doe passed by and when he stepped out I shot him at a trot at 125 yards. He dropped instantly. He looked bigger as I got closer. He was still alive in the picture looking at me and died a few seconds later. Scored 178.

 

[Nicodemus]

My most memorable rut was one I posted about back in 2013 on here as the story of my first deer. Here's my story.

I believe it was 1982 when I was 11 years old. My dad, grandfather and I had built a stand down in the river swamp of the Oconee river not far from Glenwood, GA. I recall we didn't have enough lumber to finish it so we cut down an "ironwood" tree as my grandfather called it to finish the last 3 or 4 steps. We had built quite a few stands in the swamp just before the season started. This one was in a small slough off the river that was probably covered in water most of the summer.
My father had bought me a Winchester 1200 20 gauge shotgun the year before from Otasco. I had killed quite a few squirrels with it but was still too small to pump the action without setting the butt of the gun down on my knee and pumping it.
The season started and I was still sitting in the stand with my dad. We ran off a buck one morning climbing down from the stand in the slough so he said we'd hunt it again the next morning to see if it tended a small scrape it had started. My brother Nick was hunting with us that next morning. I remember it was fairly cool because I was wearing the warmest clothes I had at the time but Nick had on his old hole filled tiger striped camouflage. I always thought those were the coolest camo. Nick always seemed to have the coolest stuff. I rarely got to see him back then so it was a big deal for him to be there hunting with us. He and my dad were carrying their Remington 742 30-06's. I had the 20 gauge that was nearly as tall as me. I was wearing one of those vinyl red vests they made back then before the quiet mesh ones came out. That thing made an awful racket. After what seemed like a walk of 10 miles into the swamp in the pitch black, Nick detoured off to a beaver pond. My dad and I continued on for another 20 miles or so it seemed to my short legs. We finally came to the stand with the ironwood limbs as steps. My dad asked if I wanted to sit alone and he'd sit on the ground a couple of hundred yards behind me. Of course, I jumped all over the idea. I climbed up, he handed the shotgun to me and I loaded it up with three number 3 buckshot. The last thing my dad said was, "if you shoot one, shoot it twice to be sure". He walked off behind me and disappeared into the swamp. After a while, the sun came up and I started recognizing things around me from when we sat there the previous day. Squirrels were doing their thing all over the place and even running up and down the tree I was in. Giant great horned owls were winging their way through the swamp back to whatever tree holes they lived in during the day. I can remember it almost seemed primeval back in those swamps. They hadn't been cut since my grandfather had been a child and the lumber company came the very next year and clear cut most of it to the ground. To me, it almost seemed like the swamp was underground and the lumber company had just uncovered it like it was a hole waiting to be found.
But not that morning. The sun had to get up pretty high before it was very light at all. The trees blocked a lot of the light and it stayed pretty cool because of it. Finally, I could see fairly well. I was trying to remember everything my dad and Nick had taught me over the past few years. Move your eyes before you move your head when you're looking around. Move slowly and don't jerk around or fidget in your seat even though that plywood I was sitting on was not the least bit comfortable and the blood to my legs was getting cut off by it. Keep the brim of your hat down so your face doesn't shine. Keep your head covered. (I had platinum blonde hair as a child). While I was trying to remember everything they had said, I looked over to my right and saw a 6 point buck about 50 yards away. Strange, but I wasn't that nervous. I had seen deer before plenty of times in the pastures and woods so seeing this one didn't make me that shaky. He was feeding on acorns and slowly walking a half circle of a path that was going to lead in front of me. My dad had pointed out a few trees to remember on our previous hunts in the stand. "Don't shoot one if they are farther than this" he had said. It was about 30-35 yards to those trees, but it might as well have been 30 miles as well as I could judge distance back then, but it didn't matter. That 6 point kept plodding on, eating acorns and stopping every 10-12 steps. I had eased off the plywood torture seat and was sitting crouched on one knee on the platform of the stand. Right on queue, he stopped in a clearing right in front of the stand next to one of the trees my dad had pointed out. I eased the safety off between my fingers so it wouldn't click, just like dad and Nick had showed me. I pulled the shotgun up tight and put the bead just above his shoulder. When I pulled the trigger, he dropped like he'd been hit by lightning and started to flop around. Remembering what dad had said about shooting it twice, I sat the butt on the stand platform and racked another shell into the chamber. By this point, any calm feelings I may have had left me completely. I had a deer on the ground and I was determined to keep him there if it meant throwing the gun at him. Aiming as best I could, (which wasn't so good at all I discovered later), I let fly another dose of number 3 buckshot. Again, I racked the slide on the Winchester and tried to steady the bead on the deer. Boom! (It's funny, I don't recall hearing noise at all) I fired my final shell at the flopping deer and was terrified that he might get up and run off before my shaking hands could load some more shells into the shotgun. I figured the best thing to do was to yell for help before the deer took off, so I hollered as loud as I could. "Hurry up before he gets away Dad, Hurry up dang it!!!" I'm sure I ruined the hunting in the surrounding counties by yelling so loud.
Within a few minutes, Dad came walking up. Smiling, he asked, "Did you get him"? Grinning back at him, I said "Yeah, he's laying on the ground over there". We walked up to the deer from the blind side and poked it in the eye to be sure (something they never do on the hunting shows, and one of my pet peeves!). Grave yard dead he was. I felt like the greatest hunter who ever lived. For just a few minutes on that glorious morning in the swamp, maybe I was. I then discovered the bad part of deer hunting. Dragging the deer. In the days before 3 wheelers, 4 wheelers, golf carts, and Kubota’s, deer required dragging. Its a delicate art, make no mistake. I understand now why so many hunters die of heart attacks in the woods. Finally, after dragging the 6 pointer for 20 miles or so, Nick took my place and dragged it the rest of the way for me. They sent me ahead to get the truck, but I couldn't get it started. Not much of a driver back then I guess.
While cleaning the buck at my grandparents house, we found that someone had shot the buck the previous year in the hind quarter with what appeared to be bird shot. It didn't penetrate the meat, but was all stuck in the hide. Proof that there were idiots in the woods back in those days too! Dad found where I had hit the buck with 6 number 3 buckshot in the shoulder area. One of the shot had gone through the heart. Obviously those insurance shots I took were wasted money, but they certainly made me feel better at the time! Pictures of me and the buck were taken and festivities ensued.
The next year, the swamp was clear cut. I recall my dad saying, "You'll be my age before it looks like it did again". A few years later when I was a much more mature 14, we found the old stand while scouting the clear cut swamp. The ironwood steps were nearly rotted away but the lumber company had left the tree with the stand, I suppose because of the nails in it. Despite being too rotten to use, I was glad it was still there.
Well, 31 years (38 years now!) have passed since that morning. Dad was right, the swamp did eventually grow back. Not the same swamp I remember, or at least when I saw it last, which was about 8 years back. I still have the Winchester 20 gauge, but I couldn't tell you the last time I shot it. I even still have some of the number 3 buckshot my dad had bought at the Otasco. I graduated up to a rifle a few years after my first buck, so the 20 gauge didn't get used much. My nephew Warren used it for a while when he was little, which he didn't stay for long. He was probably the last to shoot it, but I keep it clean and oiled in the safe so it's ready to go at a moments notice in case a squirrel dares to run across the roof of my house.
I've killed quite a few deer since that morning, although it took nearly 8 seasons before I killed my second buck. After that one, there was a whole bunch I killed when I had access to a lot of fraternity brothers farms. Since then, I've hunted heavy some years and not at all others, but every year about this time, I think about that first buck and how much more fun hunting was to me back then. If I have my way, my wife and I will be buying a new house this year with some acreage attached. I believe I'll take up hunting and see if I can't make it fun again like it was back then.

It's been 7 years since I shared that story on this forum. As luck would have it, 3 years after I wrote this my wife and I did find a little piece of property with a house on it and I enjoy hunting my little 15 acres every year. This little place has really brought back the passion of hunting to me after I lost it from bad experiences with hunting clubs.
I've let dozens of does and several small bucks walk on this property and haven't pulled the trigger on a single one of them but this year, that's going to change. I've decided the free passes are over. I'm craving some bacon wrapped grilled backstrap. I'll be dropping a buck or doe soon and it will be a deer of many firsts, just like the story of my first deer. It will be the first deer on my property and my first with a muzzleloader. I'm hoping it will be tomorrow morning!
Hope y'all enjoyed my story.
RT

Here you go, Brother. You done good.

 

[BamaGeorgialine]

6-8 years ago, it was one of those absolute perfect November morning. I was setup overlooking a cleared, ready for planting clearcut that was bordered by a large creek with thick bedding cover surrounding the cut and large pushed up brush piles. From the time that I climbed up before daylight until pulling the trigger around 830 or so, I saw at the least a dozen bucks and tons of does. The deer were chasing, grunting, fighting and actually breeding all in the bottom.

The buck I killed was walking up the creek a long ways away when I saw him, I let out 2 or 3 really loud snort wheezes and the buck turned around and headed at an angle towards me trying to find the other buck. He was bristled and looking to fight. He ran into another buck that was with a doe and started after them. After a short dash, he broke away and started walking again.

I braced on the stand and when he stopped, I fired and the shot was ~265 yards and I hit him high and he went straight down. He ended up having a broken g4 on one side and a 13" G2 on the other.

The buck was rutted up and had the worst musk smell of any buck that I have ever shot. He weighed in at 220 on the hoof with a monstrous neck.

The amount of rut activity that day was incredible, my cousin was in a stand about mile or so from me and he was 8-9 bucks chasing does that same timeframe. It was just a special day.


View attachment 1045706View attachment 1045707

I've had one of those days myself. Hunting in Fulton County first week of November about 4 years ago and saw 13 different bucks one day chasing, grunting, and raising cain all within bow range. Nothing huge but, a day I'll never forget. I actually sat from daylight until dark that day. Probably saw 25 to 30 deer total. It was a incredible

 

[Rebel 3]

Here is a buck I took in North GA on another of my best rut hunts. I had 6-8 bucks chasing does around me on and off all morning. A doe ran out about 45 yards in front and he was right behind her. I was especially proud because I had a long history with him and it’s not a county that is well known for big bucks. I passed him up at at least 4 1/2 and he was in the 140s. I got trail cameras pictures of him a few times that season. I got no pictures of him the next 2 years, but missed him at 6 1/2. When I killed him he was at least 7 1/2. I learned my neighbors in 2 directions had multiple pics of him a mile apart. I think he just occasionally traveled through where I hunt.

 

[Madsnooker]

This was in Dooly County back in 2012. Had 9 bucks chasing 1 doe for about 3 hrs one evening. Craziest thing I have ever seen. The bucks would lose the doe as she stayed hid in the clear-cut. The bucks would hear other bucks in the clear-cut and start chasing each other. Once in a lifetime event. I videoed it on my phone as I knew my Dad and brothers hunting close by wouldn't believe it without the videos.lol

 

[Madsnooker]

Here is another short video after the first one.

 

[Madsnooker]

And the last video 2 hrs after the first one.

 

[eavega]

Two years ago, I took my then 12-year-old daughter on her first hunt the Monday before Thanksgiving (which was early, so it was Nov, 18th or so?). We drove down to the land at 4 AM to get into the stand before 6. We were set up in the "shot house" which was a fully enclosed elevated stand overlooking a long green field that stretches out about 280 yds to the east, but also has good shooting lanes into the woods to the north. It was a cold (for middle GA) and foggy morning. So foggy, in fact, that I got turned around on land that I have hunted for 5 years and ended up coming into the field from the wrong direction. Luckily there was not a lot of wind that morning, so my daughter and I didn't spread a bunch of scent right where we were expecting deer to come. We got settled into the shot house and proceeded to wait for legal shooting light which was in about 30 minutes. At about 7 (it had been legal shooting light for about 20 min, but with the fog it was still somewhat dim) my daughter and I hear and see a troupe of does walking slowly from east to west of in the shooting lanes north of the stand. She very excitedly says "Dad! Deer! Look!" I whispered to her "Well, that's what we are here for, you've got the gun. Line up the shot like I taught you, just behind the foreleg halfway up the body." It was a fairly easy 60 yard shot to the biggest doe. I knew it was the rut, but I was here for my daughter to have her first hunting experience, so I was about her having a successful hunt whether doe or buck. I could hear her breathing getting faster and faster as she peered down the scope. I could only imagine she was looking at an eyeful of brown fur, and was very excited. After a few moments she says "I can't calm down take the shot!" The troupe of does continued to walk of towards the west and went out of range. My daughter was visibly agitated that she couldn't get it done. I told her not to worry, she should only take a shot when she was prepared to. The excitement happens to all of us, and sometimes we pass on a shot because we can't get into the right state to make a clean kill.
After about 40 more minutes of just sitting there, she starts nodding off and eventually falls asleep on my shoulder. Now, I know that it is full-on rut, and if does were walking by, there was a good chance a buck was going to pick up their scent and follow along.
by about 8 AM, I'm in automatic mode, scanning through both sets of portals in the shot house looking for move movement, when the does come racing back west to east through the woods, then circling around across the green field and into the high brush on the west side of the shot house. Suspecting that something was chasing them, I gently wake my daughter, letting her know what I just saw, and what I expect is coming next. Sure enough not 2 minutes later, this basket 8 comes along into the field, nose down, not paying attention to anything else except whatever concerns his nose. I told my daughter, "this is it, now is your chance". She brought the rifle up, sighted the buck, and waited until he presented a shot. as he got out of the brush and into the green field, he was quartering towards her. She apparently aimed for the swirl in his chest and pulled the trigger. The buck went down like a sack of potatoes. The hunt was successfully concluded with her first buck on her first hunt ever.

 

[ghadarits]

Bulloch county Ga

1998? 1996?

Pics are long gone now.

Dawgs were playing someone big and it was hot - my brother took a pass and I went to stand.

Heard grunting coming and a doe ran past going 15 mph.

Buck one

Buck two

Buck three

Buck four

Buck five

Buck six


Can’t recall now if it was 6 bucks or 7 but the last one was about a minute behind the parade - and he was the biggest.

We talk about it to this day.

My guess is Larry Munson was calling the Dawgs and I was having the time of my life.

I had a similar hunt but with 8 bucks trailing the same doe. It started at daylight with a six point hot on her heels grunting at every step and was a consistent parade of bucks until I shot with about 10 minutes of light left to see my pin. That was a long sit but with all the action it went by fast. Me and that buck had history he had busted me earlier during bow season so I got a little redemption. He was also the best of the 8 that I saw that day.

 

[killerv]

I was overlooking a two year old clearcut one afternoon and about 100 yards in front of me appeared a nice heavy 8 out of nowhere through the growed up stuff. He was facing me and I shot him straight on. To my surprise, I see one bolting from where I just shot and I went to get a 2nd shot in him. Probably one of my best shots I made on a deer running like that, Anyway...all excited I get down to go check out my buck. A 6ptr.... Was he not as big as I thought, you know how they always seem bigger than they are in a lot of cases, etc? We'll, my brother in law and I loaded it up and headed out.

As the night went on I kept telling myself that couldn't have been the buck I first saw. I went back the next morning and the big 8 was laying where I shot him. It was cold enough he was fine. But anyway, I assumed I missed when that other deer I never saw broke out from the same area after the shot. If I had missed or lossed that 2nd deer, I would have never gone back to look since I was thinking it was the initial deer while it was bolting through that clear cut after the shot.

 

[HawkinsHollow]

My first (last year) and only rut was memorable but for the wrong reason.

I had hunted my little spot 6 times without seeing a thing, I was getting antsy. I had them on camera but hadn't seen one on my morning or evening hunts yet. I told myself if I saw something I was gonna shoot it. A nice doe walked out and I took my shot. Perfect double lung, she ran 50 feet and piled up. As I was getting ready to pack up and go get her, I heard a commotion off to my right on the ridge 200 feet from me. I could see it was a deer and a buck at that but I figured I blew it and had no chance at him. Also, I was so jazzed about my first deer that I kinda rushed to get my atv and went for the retrieve. Later that afternoon after I got done processing my doe I checked my camera feed and realized the deer I heard on the ridge was in fact the best buck I had caught on camera. He was on his way into the food plot when I shot the doe. He actually still came into the food plot at 10am broad daylight while I was 1000 feet away up on the ridge processing my deer. Moral of the story? BE PATIENT DURING THE RUT! Don't kill your bait (hot doe). So this year my new rule is no does until after the rut.

Love seeing all of your massive bucks! Thanks for the inspiration!

 

[BOWFINWHITT]

This one was pretty memorable.. myself and two buddies went in for an evening hunt after work and came out with these..all bow kills too.

 

[rutnbuk]

I historically have had better pre-rut success in Georgia- but my best Rut experience happened during my first ever bow hunt during the rut on the outskirts of Pike County Illinois, Calhoun County I think. It was the last morning of a 3 day hunt and I had to get going at 10am. Well at 9am a Doe came over the hill in front of me with that look like "hey there is something trailing me". She came by at 10 yards and minutes later- the 'bruiser' topped the hill. I was thinking this is going to happen! He got to about 30 yards{no shot} and started posturing and walking sideways and out of the corner of my eye I caught another buck coming from behind me. The 150ish deer took off and CRASHED head first into the 130ish deer 10 yards from my tree. He destroyed him and at full draw and all the confusion I could never settle the pin on a vital. The smaller one took off and of course the big one chased him out of range. I was still shaking when I checked my bags at the airport 3 hours later I do believe. I learned something that day- no matter how hard I ever planned to hit antlers together to rattle- I would NEVER be able to mimic the sound of two big midwest bucks like I heard that day. More like a car crash! Never was able to release an arrow that trip- but that memory is forever etched in my bowhunting mind!

 

[nix03]

November 21, 2015 I killed both of these within 10 minutes of each other running does.

 

[coastalredneck]

November 14th, 2016, and the rut was red scalding hot here in Lee County. This buck was the 24th deer I saw that morning, and he stepped out at 8:45. I generally try to take a picture of a buck before I shoot it, but I wasn`t about to take any chances with this deer. He`s a 7 point and weighed 232 pounds. I`m proud of every deer I`ve ever killed, but this buck is special.






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I remember your post on this buck.. maybe a couple years ago?? I remember because I admired your high wall. what a stud and a reminder to us ole schoolers.. that a trophy is not always scored by inches.. what a rack and a warrior of the swamp!

 

[Nicodemus]

I remember your post on this buck.. maybe a couple years ago?? I remember because I admired your high wall. what a stud and a reminder to us ole schoolers.. that a trophy is not always scored by inches.. what a rack and a warrior of the swamp!

Thank you kindly.