Nebraska Whitetails - Bow Hunting The Corn Husker State

The sound of leaves crunching in the distancegood buck within effective bow range so soon
alerted me to the slow progression of severalinto my five-day hunt.
deer approaching my stand site. My heart beganThe sound of my bogus grunts infuriated the
to flutter in anticipation of their arrival, as thebuck. As the bruiser slowly worked his way
staccato rhythm of advancing footfalls grewtoward my stand site, he answered back in bold
louder and louder. The first deer to appear on thedefiance. Continuing his show of aggression, he
scene was a medium-sized doe, followed by anstopped every few feet and pawed a fresh
8-pointer and a much larger buck whosescrape on the ground, tearing at the earth with
unique-looking rack sported a small sticker point,each ruthless thrust of his hooves.
and a broken left brow tine. As I embraced theNow strutting past at a mere 12 yards, urine
magic of the moment, a surge of deepdripping from his hind legs, the husky stag
concentration took over my thought process. Mypresented me with a perfect broadside target.
eyes immediately centered on the bigger of theSeeing the window of opportunity open, I slowly
two bucks. After casting a few quick glances inmoved into position for the impending shot. Just
his direction, I instantly determined that he was aas I started to feel the string's tension on my
"shooter."finger tab, the twist of fate decided to rear its
My position was ideal. A strategically placed ladderugly head. At that very moment, the small
stand blended in well with the surrounding terrain.8-pointer came dangerously close to my stand
The stand was located approximately 15 feettree, slamming the window shut.
above the ground in one of several large oakFearing that any movement would tip my hand, I
trees that overlooked a gradually sloping hillside.elected to wait it out. And, wait I did. Standing
This particular area was a virtual haven forstone still, afraid to even exhale, I could literally
white-tailed deer. It offered an assortment ofhear the ticking of my watch as seconds of time
natural attractants that appealed to bucks of allturned into minutes of agony. With the
shapes and sizes, including the most dominant andindiscriminate force of nature directing the show,
mature. The presence of a nearly impenetrablethe battle of wits ensued.
cedar thicket to the south served as a secureFinally, after what seemed like hours, the smaller
sanctuary for their daytime bedding area. Inbuck moved off leaving his superior and I to finish
addition, a small creek bottom and a recentlythe high stakes chess match on our own. The big
picked cornfield nestled below the stand of oaks9-pointer was now facing directly away from me.
provided an inviting buffet of food and water.He had moved out to 23 yards while I was busy
Also, large family groups of female deerperforming my best impression of a tree trunk.
commonly gathered on the hillside oak flat atAs I waited for a shot opportunity, I silently
sundown to feed, which further increased itsreminded myself to pick a spot.
allure.The buck began slowly moving to his right in what
From my elevated perch, I watched the 8-pointerseemed like slow motion. Without hesitation, I
vigorously work over a large scrape and itsbrought my 78-pound Hoyt Vectrix XL back to
helpless overhanging branch. Meanwhile, the biggerfull draw and waited for him to complete his turn.
buck appeased his appetite by devouring aSuddenly, he paused and looked back in my
healthy amount of acorns. He was also quitedirection. I patiently waited for him to look in
intent on analyzing the actions of several doesanother direction, but that look never came.
that were now lurking in the nearby shadows.Minutes passed as I pleaded with the heavens for
Since it seemed obvious that he had no idea Ia favorable outcome. I knew I had to act quickly
was in the immediate area, I figured it was safeor all would be lost. Realizing that I could no longer
to try tickling his auditory nerve. I assumed that Ihold my pose, I forced myself to focus on a spot
could prey upon his natural impulses as his attitudebehind the buck's shoulder blade and released the
clearly indicated that he was ready to start thestring from my stiff fingers.
breeding ritual. After slowly reaching for my gruntMy arrow found its mark in less than the blink of
tube, I followed with three short tending grunts inan eye. I watched the G5 STRIKER-tipped shaft
an attempt to lure him into bow range. It seemedpenetrate the brute's tough exterior as a crown
to work as he stepped out from a patch of thickof crimson instantly formed around the fletching.
brush and started heading in my direction.Fatally wounded, the buck fell to the ground within
I was bowhunting trophy bucks in southeasternsight. Struggling to regain his feet, the big deer
Nebraska. It was the latter stages of Octobermade a staggering exit, toppled over a ridge and
and the pre-rut phase of the whitetail breedingcame to rest at the bottom of a steep ravine.
season was just starting to heat up. Although theHours later, in the radiant glow of the moon, I
drive from my then home state of Wisconsin hadknelt at his side and gave thanks to the Great
been long and tiresome, the prospect of huntingSpirit above while praising him for his courageous
new territory kept my spirits high along the way.effort.
Arriving later than expected, I quickly made plansAfter conducting an early morning photo session
for an early evening hunt. There was only enoughand visiting a cold storage plant, I made
time left in the day to purchase my license and toarrangements to employ the services of a local
take a quick nap before making my freshmanbutcher. It was during this time that I had a
debut as a Cornhusker State bowhunter. Afterchance to reflect on the hunt. I quietly mused
some much needed rest, I headed for the woods.over the buck's potential as a record book
Needless to say, I was eager to start mycandidate and what may have caused him to
five-day instructional course in Nebraska Whitetailbreak off one of his brow tines. After a fair
Hunting 101.amount of conjecture, I came to the conclusion
The last minute appearance of a large doe wasthat he lost it while defending his breeding rights. I
the only action I experienced on that firstsurmised that another buck had invaded his
afternoon. After coming within easy bow range,territory and was competing for the amorous
the lone deer occasionally stopped to browse in aattentions of the local doe population, when a
nearby milo field. A sense of bittersweetroutine woodland scuffle turned ugly. In any
consolation swept over me as the last seconds ofevent, I was one happy hunter to have
legal shooting hours slowly ticked away.harvested such a fine trophy.
Undaunted by the outcome of my first encounterAs it turns out, the decision to end my hunt after
with a Nebraska whitetail, I sat back and enjoyedonly two days afield was somewhat prophetic.
the peace and tranquility of nightfall. The gradualThe temperatures continued to climb into the high
decent of the sun dissolved into a wash of80s, causing most breeding activity to occur
vibrant colors, setting the night sky on fire. It wasunder the cover of darkness. As a result of
a show of natural artistry that I will not soonMother Nature's fickle mood swing, daytime buck
forget.sightings became few and far between.
Once the doe was out of my sight, I quietlyMy only regret is that I didn't spend more time in
climbed down from my stand, walked out to thethe woods chasing an even bigger buck that was
main trail and waited for my hunting partner tocaught on videotape in late August by some local
pick me up. Sitting alone in the darkness, I heardhunters. Nicknamed "Heart Attack," the huge
the eerie yips of several coyotes echoing in the12-point typical is a true jaw-dropping monster.
distance. From one predator to another, I wishedMaybe that Cornhusker State giant and I will
them all good hunting as I silently devised my owncross paths sometime in the future, but that's
plan of attack. Although I never raised my bowanother story. Until then I'll set up an appointment
from its hanger, it had been a good first day ofwith my cardiologist, and keep my bow fingers
hunting.crossed.
Unfortunately, the temperatures turnedTrip Notes
unseasonably warm for the month of October,Following the required 60-day drying period, an
resulting in tough hunting conditions. On the secondofficial measurer of the Pope and Young Club
day of my hunt, the mercury consistentlytallied a final score of my buck's rack. He grossed
hovered near the middle 70s. As one can imagine,an impressive 128 3/8 points. After a total
good buck activity normally slows down duringdeduction of 9 4/8 inches the rack netted 118 7
warmer weather conditions, but I had done my8, falling a little shy of the 125-point minimum
homework by conducting several intensivenecessary for record book consideration. An
scouting missions just prior to my hunt. I knew ifextra G3 tine on the buck's right antler and a
I was willing to spend some quality time at one ofsmall sticker point on his left accounted for the
my many ambush sites, I would have anmajority of its deductions. The missing left brow
opportunity to take a good buck. Given mytine also affected the final score.
positive attitude, it was still surprising to have a