Competition is a reality of hunting whitetail, with many hunters seeing bucks they are after disappear without a trace, or appear on their neighbor’s wall. Tensions often run high in this high stakes environment. The following is a rare look at the hunts of two strangers over a span of three years, their unknowing dual pursuit of one exceptional buck, and the unlikely intersection of their stories at the climactic end. This journal-style entry allows a walk in the shoes of both hunters, revealing the stark reality of the ups, the downs, and interconnectedness we all share as hunters, in both failure, and success.
Adam Lewis, November 2015: It’s hard to feel good for the guy who just shot the “ghost buck” out from under me. I’d patterned him all fall and knew where he was traveling. My trail camera even captured a daylight picture of him at my stand yesterday. Harder yet, finding out another Ohio bruiser I encountered during my morning hunt was mortally wounded by his buddy, and they didn’t find him. That’s hunting right? I should just be happy Lon, the landowner of the 100 acre property, gave permission to this out-of-stater, much less a Michigan fan. However, ending a season like that is never easy.
Tom Petry, November 2015: (20 miles Southwest) Jason and I climbed the big pine in the back food plot at dad’s property around 2:30 PM. The adjoining acreage is ideal whitetail habitat, including a thick chunk of real estate owned by Betty, a nice lady open to letting hunters keep deer out of her garden. Filming Jason pass on a good 10 point last year near here was incredible footage for The Life in our first year on the Sportsman’s Channel, but left Jason wanting more.
This buck we named “Tiny Two’s” due to his G2’s being slightly shorter than his G3’s. He’s shown up on multiple trail camera pictures this year revealing he is real good! I decided before the season to give Jason a chance at this buck, who is now at the top of our hit list. Jason isn’t giving him a pass this year!
Today is the last hunt of Jason’s 2015 season, and we hoped does would show early and entice a love-sick buck like Tiny Two’s into the clearing. As the golden hour began, a few does filtered into the plot and our anticipation steadily grew. As if scripted, rustling of leaves in the woods revealed some heavy chasing, and moments later a buck popped into the plot, the sun glinting off his many tines. It was Tiny Two’s, and he was almost in range! Pulses sky-rocketed as Jason slowly grabbed his bow and I swung the camera. Just a few more steps.
Suddenly, a noise from their left put the does on alert, and Tiny Two’s as well. In an instant, what was almost in the bag, turned into a heartbreaking exit of bounding bodies and white flags. So close. If we catch up to him now, it will have to be next year. (Picture # 9-11)
Adam, Summer 2016: There’s a new neighbor at Lon’s (where the “ghost buck” was taken) and he looks serious about his hunting. Again competition, again limited resource. This just got a bit tougher. I’ll be back for the opener in late September, but there’s an underwhelming number of remote trail camera pictures streaming in with no shooters. Maybe Betty’s holds promise this year, and a new monster or two will show themselves at my cameras there. I’ll have to wait until September to pull the cards and see.
Adam, September 2016: Nothing at Betty’s other than a few small bucks licking the camera lens. Luckily, a few white oaks were dropping acorns on the ridge at Lon’s where I placed a stand in July. Does, fawns, and a handful of bucks showed during my short weekend hunt, just not what I was looking for. I really wonder if the neighboring competition has removed all the good bucks that were around last year. What did the neighbors take, and are there any shooters left? This competition thing is getting old fast.
Tom, October 2016: Jason heads up from the lonestar state later in the month for an Illinois hunt, and then plans on getting after Tiny Two’s in Ohio the first week of November.
Seeing no sign of him since the 2015 season has made us both nervous. Then, right on cue for Jason’s visit, a nighttime picture in that same fateful food plot from 2015. He’s still alive, and man has he blown up! This could be our chance.
Tom, November 2016: With Illinois out of the way, we climbed into the Ohio stands with high anticipation. This has turned into something personal for Jason, and the big mature 6 on our hitlist passing within bow range, with no shot attempt, proves it. With such a history with this buck, it’s Tiny Two’s or bust for Jason. Hunting hard doesn’t always equal success though, and as our rut-hunt days dwindled and ended on November 5th, a bust is just what it was.
Adam, November 2016: The remote trail camera gave me a good idea what was happening on Lon’s 100 acres. A few good bucks had started showing sporadically, but due to the passing of my grandmother I couldn’t head down for a late October hunt like I planned. It was all or nothing for a long weekend in early November, and to add more challenge, the hunters who shot the “ghost buck” last year would be there. I would have to be strategic and aggressive. To maximize my time in the woods, I hurried to Betty’s the night I arrived at 10 PM to set a camera over some corn. Maybe something good had moved into the neighborhood. I needed an alternative if Lon’s didn’t pan out.
The second morning at Lon’s I took that strategic chance. I walked through an open field well before light (knowing I might spook deer) and headed straight toward the best doe bedding area on the property. As the first rays of light cut through the timber, a high, wide eight point appeared behind me with his nose to the ground. One grunt, and he was marching to me on a string! I moved my camera, drew once, then again, but failed to hit my range-finder. This left him with a mere haircut, and me with a terrible feeling. Dang, he was a good buck too. Realizing my aggressive tactics had made some impact on deer movement, I decided to give Betty’s property a try that evening. It was November 7th.
The Southeast wind told me to hunt the far Northwest corner of the property. I must have deliberated for half an hour with my climber on my back, but instead cut the parcel in half and walked down the long hill that ran to the bottom of the property. Heavy rubs, active scrapes, and big fresh tracks caught my eye on my walk. Checking the trail camera gave me even better sign: a great buck, in daylight, the morning prior, lingered where I stood. Only half his rack was visible, but it was enough to know I had to hunt right there, right then. This might be the ten point Betty told me the neighbors had been hunting the last two years.
Several hours later some raucous bluejays snapped me to attention. A buck was pushing a doe behind and parallel to me in the thick brush, and as he turned sideways, lip curling to catch her scent, I saw the massive beams. This was the buck from the trail camera! Grabbing my grunt call, I let out a deep grunt followed by a snort- wheeze. Turning as if to follow the doe, he suddenly broke away and worked down the hill toward my shooting lane. It was then I realized the six years of work, sweat, and disappointment were about to reach a climax. As he emerged broadside, one step, then another, and his vitals came into clear view, I drew. With the pin settling behind his shoulder, I squeezed the release.
Tom – November 8, 2016: The warm daytime temperatures and some urgent show deadlines have kept me out of the woods the last few days. Bucks are beginning to chase a bit though, as I saw several doing just that on my early morning drive to vote. Maybe Tiny Two’s is on the move. Today though was punching a ballot, hopefully tomorrow will be punching a buck tag!
Adam – November 8, 2016: As the sun came up, the tracking began. It was a long night waiting, but the shot placement was a bit back, and the brute hadn’t even acted hit as he walked off. Blood turned to a random speck quickly, and after a nerve-racking hour on my hands and knees, I finally found where he had bedded on the side of an open ridge. There was blood, but not much. This was now down to a body search in thick cover, and I felt sick as the possibility of losing this buck became very real. Needing a mental break, I took a forty yard walk parallel to the brush I felt he probably headed into. Seeing what looked like a small scrape in a clearing below, I decided to take a look. Blood! A shot of hope coursed through me, and as I had done several times during the day, I scanned the area hoping to end my tracking with the sight of a brown body. That’s when I noticed something just below. In that moment my heart raced, I was short of breathe, and I could not believe my eyes. What was one of the lowest points in my hunting career just seconds prior, accepting I would probably lose the biggest buck of my life, changed in one exhilarating moment as I stared through the brush at the massive rack of a downed Ohio Whitetail.
A surreal feeling swept over me as I put my hands on the solid 13 point with shorter G2’s than G3’s. I thanked God for all that had transpired as I dragged him uphill to my truck, and somehow heaved his massive body onto the tailgate. At the house, Betty was all smiles, and as I lowered the tailgate to give her a look, she snapped a picture with her phone.
Tom – November 9, 2016: I had just returned to dad’s from hunting his property with my cameraman. With Jason gone, it was my turn to put in some time for Tiny Two’s. As we dug into dinner dad mentioned a big buck someone shot at Betty’s… a thirteen point. My heart sank, “Oh No,” I thought, “that story’s gone!” I was disappointed for Jason, but somehow felt happy for the guy that harvested such a great buck. Competition, that’s the way it goes! In the back of my mind I kept thinking that maybe it wasn’t Tiny Two’s, but when I saw the telltale G2’s on Betty’s picture, it was clear. I called Jason to tell him the news. Jason, speechless for several moments, finally broke the silence. “Well good for him!”
Adam – December, 2016: A letter came in the mail, from Betty, confirming the buck I shot was the one the neighbors were after. The neighbor, Tom, had named this buck Tiny Two’s. I could see that. She said he wanted to talk to me sometime, and I remembered all the work I had put in the year before, having the “ghost buck” shot out from under me, and how it felt talking to the guy who shot him. Now the shoe was on the other foot. Interesting how that works. Several days later, I called, and Tom was quick to pick up with an energetic and cheerful tone, “Hey man you shot my buck!” Laughing, I could tell he got what I had been figuring out: that we all have our turn, our right place at the right time moment, and it’s even possible for highly competitive hunters to be genuinely happy for someone else’s success, even when it means our failure. Tom continued, “Let me tell you about Tiny Two’s…”
