Chasing The Monster

Well, it was fun week, though I failed to bring back any meat. Still having plenty of venison left over from last year, and wanting to keep some room in the freezer for a potential wild pig hunt in February or March, I decided to spend my week scouting for the elusive trophy buck.

I've managed to bag a few respectable bucks through the years. As I've become more experienced at this game, mainly in the past 4-5 years, decent bucks have been easier to come by. By decent, I'm talking about a 3-5 year buck, with a little experience under his belt, carrying more than a few points on his head. Nothing to brag about, but respectable none-the-less. Prior to that, just about all that presented themselves to me were does. (Does are legal game in Georgia, and provide better meat anyway).
But this year, I wanted to look for what is often the easiest, but usually the most difficult, animal to place a cross hair on: the 6-8 year old, fully mature, and wiley, buck. The king of his forest. I thought I came close last year, with a large bodied, thick antlered and battle scarred beast. His rack had a good outward spread and heavy beams, but sorrowfully lacking in points. Don't know what went wrong with this one, but you could see where about 3-4 tines failed to form in what should have been a magnificent rack (but he still makes a good stew).

These mature beasts are hard to find. Besides the rarity, they don't come out of hiding very often, preferring to stay in heavy cover. Also, they lack the need to get out and about looking for breeders since the does in heat will come to them more often. This makes finding them tricky. And after locating him, heavy cover will often prevent a clear shot.
I did say these are often the easiest, didn't I?
Well, they can be. For stupid beginners. A large proportion of those that are in the record books were dropped by stupid beginners who randomly stumbled over them. I was almost one of them, a long time ago. Twice. A hair raising, heart pounding, few moments that still live vividly in my memory as if it were this morning. On one occasion, I didn't have a round in the gun. The sound of my bolt sliding alerted him, and off he went. The second time, I passed on a decent shot, expecting him to continue through the trees to provide an excellent shot. I wasn't expecting him to change directions, but he did.
Live and learn, they say.
Yeah.
The bucks lived another season.
And I learned the hard way.

I didn't get him this year,either.
Hell, I didn't even manage to find where he's hanging out at.
But I did learn one thing:
When Georgia's Governor Sonny Perdue prays for rain, they get rain. Two days worth, further hampering my efforts to scout the woods and look for sign.

Maybe next year.
Right now, I got a pig hunt to plan.