What are the chances?
by David Knupp
“What are the chances?” That was one of the questions running through my mind on the morning of November 9, 2004 as I drove to my favorite hunting spot. You see, I had already harvested one very respectable buck that season on October 1st, our season opener here in Illinois. It was the largest buck I had ever taken with archery equipment, and I knew it would come close to meeting the minimum requirements for entry into the Pope and Young Club. I could have stopped hunting that season on opening day and been satisfied. Luckily, “How boring would that have been?” was the other question running through my head that morning.
By the time the rut finally rolled around, it had actually seemed like I had shot my first buck the season before. It had been a long 40 days since the season opener and I had been hunting hard. I figured my chances of harvesting another P&Y qualifying buck that season were slim, but I knew the opportunity to see one that day was great. It was the peak of the rut, and I was hunting an area where I have witnessed over the years some very exciting whitetail activity. On several occasions, I had witnessed bucks aggressively fighting, seemingly almost to the death. Once I witnessed two bucks fight until they where both bloodied from fighting so intensely. Another time I watched a buck so worn down from fighting and chasing does lie down in a creek to cool off just out of bow range. I believe the rut was actually the demise of this buck, because I found him dead later on that season with no apparent human inflicted injuries.
The 20-acre woodlot I was hunting that day is always filled with dozens of scrapes and rubs. I scout hundreds of acres of woods each year, and have yet to find an area with as many rubs per square acre as I find in this small woodlot. Although this woodlot is only 20 acres in size, it is the largest patch of timber with in two miles of its location. The woodlot borders a creek and many large agricultural fields lined with small brush filled ditches, the perfect habitat for the mid-western whitetail. The buck-to-doe ratio on this farm is very balanced, the result of which is evident in a very active pre-rut and rut.
I climbed into my tree stand located in a very thorny black locust tree 30 minutes before daylight. The woods felt crisp and calm, with the temperature in the low 20’s and no noticeable wind. Upon getting situated in my stand I could hear deer running around in the woods behind me. Initially, I assumed I had busted them while entering my stand. Seconds later, I could here a buck grunting. At that moment, I knew I was in for an exciting morning hunt. I immediately nocked a 5575 Gold Tip arrow and clipped my release aid to my bowstring. I remained motionless standing in my tree stand for the next 30 minutes listening to the buck grunt and chase does around the dark woods. As first light appeared, a doe and two fawns made themselves visible directly below my tree stand. They were very alarmed and jittery, fortunately they where unaware of my presence, and more concerned with the buck still grunting just out of sight to my right. With my arrow still nocked and ready to draw, I was concentrating on my shooting lanes to my right looking for the grunting buck to appear. Then suddenly I caught some movement to my left. I slowly glanced over to my left, trying not to alarm the doe and two fawns directly below me. Sneaking towards my shooting lanes on my left was a “shooter” buck followed by several fawns. I slowly shifted my feet to get in position to draw my bow at the slowly approaching buck to my left. In the process of getting into position, my arrow detached itself from my string. My heart sank, and I became a little panicked as a quickly re-nocked my arrow. The buck continued its path towards my shooting lane on a trail 28 yards from my stand, all the while I could still hear the other buck grunting and running circles in the woods to my right. As I drew my BowTech Liberty bow, the buck stopped unalarmed perfectly broadside. I settled my pin directly behind the bucks shoulder and squeezed the trigger on my release. In a split second I heard a loud “whack” as my arrow struck the buck. The woods around me exploded with deer running everywhere. The buck immediately stumbled for a step or two then slowly walked away at a 90-degree angle from my location. He walked only 28 more yards and then fell over with in sight like a ton of bricks.
As the adrenaline in my body started to rush, I could still hear the first buck to the right of me grunting. Several more does and fawns became visible, watching and listening trying to figure out what had just happened. Finally, the first buck appeared still grunting and trailing a doe. He was a nice year and half ten point that I had already seen and passed on earlier in the season from the same stand. As he trailed the hot doe towards the location of my downed buck, he caught sight of the fallen monster. What I witnessed next ranks high on the list of amazing whitetail activity I have witnessed in this wood lot. The small 10-point walked up to the fallen buck and lowered his head as if to challenge the much larger motionless buck. He stood directly above the buck and shook is antlers at the expired monster. He challenged the other buck for a minute or so then became satisfied that he was at the top of the pecking order now and continued chasing does around the woods. I remained in my stand hoping to get a shot at one of the does still running around my tree stand. Several fawns had actually bedded down around the buck I had arrowed moments ago. Then suddenly I could here a third buck directly behind me grunting. The saying “when it rains it pours” certainly was applicable to this situation. I continued watching and listening to get a glimpse of the third rutting buck. I watched for 15 minutes or so, and then decided I could not take the anticipation anymore and climbed down from my tree to admire my harvest.
I walked to the spot where my 100-grain Spitfire tipped arrow had passed through the buck. I immediately saw a lot of blood. Although I new exactly where my buck lay, I could not visually see him from the ground. I followed the heavy blood trail counting off 28 yards to where my second buck of the season lay. I had made a perfect heart shot. My trophy buck never knew what hit him and never suffered. As I knelt down to examine the massive mainframe ten-point rack, several fawns remained only 25 yards away curiously watching me. At that moment, I realized my chances of harvesting a second mature Illinois whitetail was good, during the rut in this small woodlot, where at least 9 does/fawns and 3 bucks decided to put on an amazing show.
