OHIO DREAMIN’

                I am a newbie hunter by most standards since it wasn’t until 2012 when I was 24 that I started pursuing big game. Although a mere four years later and with only four hunting seasons under my belt, I don’t really consider myself a newbie. Undoubtedly, most hunters who have been doing this all their lives have a vast amount of experience to reference and significantly more than me. However, unlike most of them, I had to learn and figure everything out for myself. Because of that I spent hours reading about whitetail behavior, tendencies, travel and bedding preferences, food sources, movement times and how weather affects that. I have read studies published by major whitetail biologists pertaining to multiple facets of whitetails. I’ve picked the brain of nearly every whitetail hunter I’ve encountered. I hike all over the whitetail woods in order to do my own research. I spend more time in a tree stand in one season than it seems most guys are privileged enough to. And I’ve watched more hours of outdoor television than I care to admit.

                To that last point, while I wouldn’t say it is necessarily the most reliable resource, it is the best way to see things I had read about put into action. More importantly (Maybe a good thing, maybe not) I realized that there are some monster deer out there and they do not live in any of the areas of Northern Virginia in which I hunt. One could say that outdoor television gave me the itch to shoot a big buck. I got this idea in my head and couldn’t shake it so finally in the summer of 2014 I began researching hunting in other states. I found that most of my research was focused on OH. I searched for Pope & Young bucks by county. I determined what percentage of bucks killed in each county were Pope & Young bucks. I tried to determine the average number of hunters per square mile per county as best I could. I took all these factors into account and came up with the general area I wanted to try to hunt. At this point, many would book an outfitter but my financial standing prevented me from going that route. I decided it would be a DIY hunt.

                I found a campground located within a section of public land and announced to my family that I would be leaving for Ohio at the end of the week for opening weekend of archery season. Two days later I had my truck packed and pulled away from the house with visions of monster racks that were dwarfed only by the size of the bodies they were attached to. I arrived and set up camp before setting out to find my spot for opening day.

                I had printed out topos and areal maps so I began walking ridge tops and funnels. I found good sign everywhere and acorns galore. I decided to set up on a bench half way up a small mountain that had a funnel leading from it to an oak ridge that was littered with acorns. There were droppings and tracks all around and, from the size of the tracks, there were some big deer in there. I returned to my truck to retrieve my climber and gear hooks. The spot I had picked out was almost a mile in and all uphill so I was tired, to say the least, by the time the set was hung. I returned to camp with about 3 hours of daylight left so I set up a target and checked my bow to verify that it hadn’t been bumped around too much on the drive up. After preparing a quick meal I turned in for a night of restless sleep and full of anticipation for what the following day might hold.

                I awoke the next day with ample time to get to my stand before legal shooting light. The cool air felt good as I sipped a cup of instant coffee and scarfed down a bagel with cream cheese. I checked and then re-checked my pack and then I was on my way. Although my route to the stand followed a trail most of the way in, I still struggled to navigate the unfamiliar terrain in the darkness. Branches and thorns clawed at my face and tugged on my lightweight camo all the way to my stand. Fortunately the dew on the leaves made my footsteps silent. That was about all I had going for me.

                No sooner had daylight broken when I felt a stiff breeze on the back of my neck. The wind began swirling but I didn’t know the land so I was reluctant to break down my set and move. As the sun rose higher it got oppressively hot. I was disappointed to find temperatures climbing up into the high 80’s by mid day. Reluctantly, I broke down my set and carried everything down to the trail where I hid it while I went back for some lunch and a quick nap.

                Refreshed from my nap and a hot meal, I decided that with it being so hot deer would seek out shade and water and probably wouldn’t make it up to food until well after shooting light. To me this dictated dropping down lower near a creek and setting up there. I followed a dry creek bed until I reached a pool of water that hadn’t dried and, seeing plenty of tracks, I set up down wind and settled in for the evening hunt. My fears were confirmed when nothing came through during daylight.

                Somewhat dejected, I returned to camp trying to convince myself that tomorrow would be better. Rain was in the forecast so I hoped they might be up in the morning and that is when I would have the best opportunity. I returned to the same water hole the next morning. The humidity hung heavily in the air and there was no wind. This was my last day and I only had a couple hours before it would be time to break down camp, go to church at noon and then hit the road for home.

                An hour into the sit I heard running hooves. Not just a deer but a heavy deer. The thud of each step screamed to me that a giant was heading my way and fast. Drawing my bow I scanned the brush below searching for any movement so I could identify the deer. Suddenly I heard him change direction and he was heading off up the hill toward the bench on which I had placed my first set the previous morning. He never once broke cover and all I saw was the flash of a shadow through some thick brush. Just like that, my first experience with out of state hunting was finished. Although I had not even seen a deer I enjoyed my time learning and hunting a new area and resolved to come back.

                Once home I immediately began planning my next excursion to go back and chase those Ohio monsters. My work schedule wouldn’t permit me to return for the rut so I set my sights on the last weekend of archery before the gun opener. While visiting a whitetail group on facebook, I appealed to members who hunted in that particular region and asked if they had any advice or tips for me as to where there might be a better spot to hunt. I received many helpful insights but one post in particular, from a guy about my own age named Justin, stood out. He was telling me of a little known piece of private land that was open to the public for hunting with use of a permit. He went on to tell me of a 150-class buck in that vicinity and backed it up with trail camera photos. That was all it took to convince me. Up until that point, I had only killed one buck – an eight-point that was respectable for my neck of the woods and one I was proud to take as my first buck – but it probably only grossed a little under 120 inches. The deer in the trail camera pictures he sent me made my buck look like a baby.

                Before I knew it I was setting out for Ohio again. Upon arriving at the new spot, which was only twenty minutes from where I had previously hunted, I set up camp and scouted around. I knew roughly where the pictures had been taken from pages of messaging and texting back and forth with Justin. I found what looked to be a good spot and got set up. It was still morning so I made camp and unpacked before heading out for a hunt that evening. Again it was unseasonably warm but I was there and I was going to make the most of it. I didn’t see anything that evening so I climbed down, cut a few stray branches from a shooting lane, and went to bed.

                The following day proved no better. I was plagued all day by a swirling breeze that turned into a swirling wind over night and into the following day. It was a Sunday so I decided to climb down and go to church but this time I would return to hunt the evening before heading home. After an evening hunt that yielded nothing but a lone doe crossing an opening well out of bow range I broke down my set and returned to my truck. However, when I finished stowing my stand I found that between my stand site and truck I had dropped my phone. A phone that was on silent and I had no way to call anyway. I searched frantically but to no avail.

                Rather than break down camp I went to bed in hopes of finding it after it got light the next day. Upon arising at daybreak (my phone was my alarm so I was awoken by light shining through the tent) I packed my belongings and began scouring the area between my stand site and truck. Luckily, a good Samaritan in the form of a gun hunter out for the first time that season was carrying an iPhone and generously offered to see if the iPhone locator app would work. Fortunately enough, it got us within ten feet of it and I found it in some taller grass. By this point I had already missed my window to make it back for even the second half of the work day so I called my boss and explained the situation. After notifying my family who had grown alarmed when I hadn’t returned home or called, I decided that I would hunt the rest of the morning and then leave but it began raining and the temperature dropped. I decided that I had had enough frustration and aggravation so I changed into dry clothes and drove home before anything else could go wrong.

                Ohio stayed on my mind over the next few months so I decided I would make another trip the following season but this time I would do it right. In the Spring of 2015 I told my boss that I would be taking the second week of November off. I decided that this time I would time my trip perfectly to coincide with the rut and not be rushed by only being there for a weekend at a time. I got in touch with Justin again and to my surprise and delight he offered to let me hunt a farm with him where he had exclusive bow hunting rights. Additionally, he found a place for me to camp that would only be about ten minutes from the farm. I was practically bursting at the seams with excitement.

                The big day arrived and late on a Friday morning I set off on my third hunting trip to OH. When I arrived that night I met Justin and profusely thanked him for the opportunity. After spending a couple hours with Justin, his family, and a few friends of his, we a planned our departure for the following morning and said good night. He was working nights so his plan was to work through the night and then join me for the morning hunt. He stuck to that plan throughout the week for the most part except for one morning when he was just too tired.

                The first morning I sat in a stand that he had already set up since I hadn’t had time to hang one of my own. It was on a hilltop facing away from the steep drop (practically a cliff) to a cow pasture below. There was a good wind for that stand and I saw a little 6 point within the first hour of the sit. We cut it short that morning so he could show me around the property before having to go home to get some sleep. After he left I moved to a different stand location but no luck. I was there for a total of eight days and they all seem to blend together into one so I can’t perfectly recount the sequence of everything but the encounters were unforgettable. Not a day went by when I didn’t see a buck.

 

                The first intense moment I had was on the fifth day of the hunt around noon. The rut was about to bust wide open and I had just finished a rattling sequence. Out of pure luck I happened to glance behind me over my left shoulder and there was a huge bodied 2 ½ year old eight charging through some saplings and making a b-line for my location. I grabbed my bow and within seconds he was on the trail to my stand and standing a mere twelve feet from me. I felt as though I could have reached out and touched him. Until that point I had never seen such a big bodied deer but the rack wasn’t quite what I was looking for and neither was the age class. I love eights but he didn’t have much mass or length and was only as wide as the tips of his ears. He was a beautiful deer and one I would love to take in a few years. I still found myself shaking from being in such close proximity. As soon as he caught my wind he slammed on the breaks, wheeled around, and with a snort bounded off out of sight. That was the morning Justin didn’t make it out and I was actually in the stand he would have been hunting.

                I saw does and small bucks every day but nothing I was looking for. On the seventh day Justin sent me a text saying he was too tired to go so I went back on my own again. Once I got in the stand I got a text saying he had changed his mind. He told me which stand he was going to hunt and it just so happened to be the one I was in. I immediately climbed down as this was his hunting property and I was merely a guest who didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes or be an imposition. I figured I had about 45 minutes before Justin showed up so I rattled to see if anything happened. A noise in front of me caught my attention and there, coming right for me, was a buck we referred to as the ten with the weak G4’s. He stopped about 70 yards from me as something caught his attention. I turned and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Here came Justin walking to his stand and he didn’t realize I was in that other stand – his entry would have been different otherwise. I had neglected to tell him where I would be. With his tail upright and wagging side to side the buck gave us a parting snort and trotted back the way he had come.

                I was frustrated to say the least but Justin, who had a decent view of the direction the buck had gone from his stand, texted me saying there was an even bigger ten down on the CRP field edge slowly walking the tree line towards a tree that held my climber. He urged me to quickly run down the hill and get up in the tree because he was pretty sure I had time and the wind was right. I did so and got up in the tree but never saw the buck. An hour later, probably close to 10:30 or 11 my curiosity got the best of me so I climbed down and crept to the edge of the field. Looking out across I saw the ten but he had turned and gone back the other way. While I was scanning the rest of the field he vanished from sight. I thought or at least hoped he had bedded in that spot. With only a couple days left I decided to get aggressive and see if I could sneak through the three foot tall grass and briars to get a shot. Of course when I got over there he was nowhere to be found. When I got back to the field edge in front of my stand I turned to look back one more time and there standing within ten yards of where I had been standing only a couple minutes prior was the biggest eight point I’ve ever seen either on the hoof or on television. His body looked to be the size of a cow and the sag of his neck skin and sway of his back betrayed his age. I have no idea how old he was but he was much older than 4 1/2. His tines reached up higher than any I had ever seen before and he carried the mass all the way through. If it were rifle season my story would end here because he was a buck of a lifetime and I wouldn’t have hesitated for a second to drop that bruiser that stood only 150 yards from me. As it was, I had to be content staring in awe as he (for lack of a better word) lumbered up the hill and out of sight for good.

                Just seeing that buck reenergized me and I went into that afternoon with the same zeal I had when I had arrived in Ohio. After camping by myself for six nights eating terrible food and dealing with the cold temperatures or occasional rain and having just had an opportunity at a nice ten-point foiled, I was at a pretty low point. I decided I had to be out there at the end of that finger of trees since I had just seen a nice ten and then that pig of an eight there within bow range. I pulled my tree stand down and moved everything to where I thought I needed to be. After I got situated, though, the wind began to howl. My tree was rocking so much that I was sure I would fall even though I was tied off. It felt as if the wind would rip the whole tree out of the ground and send me crashing down to my demise. At this point in the hunt I felt that I had a pretty good idea as to how the wind blew across the property and decided that I would be safer and better off going back towards the tree I had moved from. The remainder of that evening was spent relocating my stand about half way back to where it had been that morning. As it grew dark I cut some limbs out of my way, hung some doe in estruess scent wicks and returned to camp for the night.

                The next morning when I arrived, Justin was there ready to go. He had gotten off early and decided to set up a blind on a knoll overlooking a deep ravine with a creek running through it – a known travel corridor and obvious funnel. I told him to let me know if he got something and he told me the same and we each set out to our perspective new spots. I was in the stand and 35 feet up the tree an hour before legal shooting light when I heard a rustling of leaves directly downwind of me. While I couldn’t see anything yet I felt sure it was a deer. I was thankful then that I had climbed so high because if I weren’t up there the deer would have certainly caught my wind. As it began to grow lighter I was finally able to make out the shape of a deer about 40 yards behind me. It was a doe and she was in no kind of hurry as she picked at leaves and small plants. Then as it got lighter still, I realized that behind her was a buck. Every time she went to walk in any direction he would walk over and cut her off. This was the only time I have ever witnessed a such behavior. For almost an hour I watched this courtship but he would never come closer or out of the shadows. Finally as the sun began to cast light into the trees I was able to make out the rack. He was a nice looking ten that would score around the 130 inches. He was no monster given the class of deer that the area held the potential for but he was drastically bigger than anything I had seen in VA during season and I knew that I would be happy with him. I estimated him to be three and a half, which is an age I am alright with taking at this stage of my hunting career.

                At the start of the hunt Justin had told me to shoot anything in the 140’s or higher but on the second day he told me to shoot anything I would be happy with. On a couple other occasions he again told me to take one I would be happy with and he didn’t care what size or age that was. Here was this 130’s class ten-pointer that had my blood pumping and my knees shaking so I decided that this was the one for me. He kept that doe there for almost an hour and never gave me a shot. Finally he turned as if to leave and I ranged him – 48 yards. I drew back and took a deep breath. After a quick prayer I touched the release and watched the red glow of my illuminated knock soar through the air and disappear through the heart of that huge body. In a flurry of leaves and kicked up dirt he took off sprinting with both his head and tail down, not even knowing he was dead on his feet. Within 60 yards of where he had stood when I released my arrow his mad dash came to a screeching halt as he plowed head first into the damp earth and laid there motionless.

                Through all the ups but mostly downs of the week I had relied heavily on my family for encouragement and support. I had them saying prayers for my success and they had even gotten other friends to do the same. As soon as I saw he was dead and before climbing down from the tree or even telling Justin, I called home to relay the good news. I then proceeded to call Justin who told me to wait in the stand and he would get the four-wheeler. When I heard the distant hum of the engine getting closer I began my decent and reached the forest floor. By the time I got to the pasture where my buck had taken his last and final steps Justin was already there. As I walked into the field I held my bow up in one hand and a clenched fist up in the other. I dropped to my knees and couldn’t believe my good fortune. He congratulated me over and over again as I wrapped my hands around the dark brown antler that had gouged troughs in the dirt where he lay. I probably thanked him more than a thousand times.

                After taking pictures and dressing him out, we loaded the buck on the four-wheeler and Justin drove him up to the house while I retrieved my climber. The farmer came out to admire my kill, congratulated me, and introduced himself. He and his son expressed how happy they were that I had enjoyed my hunt and how thrilled they were for my success. They even went so far as to extend a standing invite for Justin to bring me back whenever he wanted and my schedule would allow. There is no way for me to put into words how much I appreciate the generosity of Justin and the farmers on who’s land I hunted. It is heart-warming and uplifting to see that there are still people like this in the world. All I asked for was advice and in turn, they gave me ever-so-much more than that. They gave me a memory I will have for the rest of my life. I also gained a few friends on that trip and I loved hearing about their successes in the deer woods after I had left. Since returning from that trip I have killed a few more deer but that was the highlight of this past season for me. I am already counting down the days until I get to go back and share in the good times with Justin and company and pursue my passion in the hills of Ohio once again.