This story, “A 5-12 months Stalk,” initially ran within the August 1963 situation of Out of doors Life. The buck stays the twenty fifth largest nontypical whitetail of all time, the sixth largest nontypical whitetail ever taken by a bowhunter, and the second largest nontypical whitetail ever taken in Nebraska. The buck taped out at 284 5/8 inches (gross) with a internet rating of 277 3/8, based on the Boone and Crockett Membership (though Pope and Younger recorded them as 279 7/8). The antlers are actually owned by Bass Professional Retailers.
THE FIRST TIME I noticed the deer I made myself a promise. I’d hunt him till I hung that unusual and sumptuous rack on my wall, regardless of how lengthy it took, except one other hunter killed him first. I didn’t guess then that I used to be taking up a five-year project and essentially the most fascinating outside quest of my life. Earlier than I used to be by way of, I’d have a liberal schooling within the virtually unimaginable wariness and stealth by which a giant whitetail buck survives the searching seasons.
I met him first in October 1958. I used to be searching in my favourite space, on the farm of a pal, Dan Thomas, alongside the Platte River south of Shelton, Nebraska, 30 miles northwest of my dwelling in Hastings the place I labored as a salesman for a meat-packing home. I used to be carrying a 57-pound bow and three arrows. I’m 36, took up bowhunting seven years in the past, and haven’t used a gun for deer since.
I had crossed a cornfield, on the look ahead to recent signal, and had stopped at a fence to look over an adjoining alfalfa subject and the timbered river bottoms past. Prepared to maneuver on, I noticed a band of 5 – 6 whitetails escape of the timber and run straight for me. The lead buck was super. I had seen nothing like him.
His rack was large and big, and was the queerest, most deformed set of deer antlers I had ever checked out. There have been heavy, spraggly factors, lengthy and quick, rising from the primary beams in all instructions. Strangest of all, he had two lengthy prongs curving out and down on both aspect of his head between eye and ear. They prolonged beneath his jaws, giving him an odd, lop-eared look.
I knew I used to be taking a look at a dream trophy, a nontypical whitetail sufficiently big to go effectively up on the report checklist, with antlers the like of which I may by no means hope to see once more. At that, I didn’t understand how good he actually was.
A deer path crossed the fence the place I used to be standing, however I used to be within the open. So I risked a few cautious steps again and sank down on one knee in a clump of weeds, an arrow nocked and prepared.
The buck was 50 or 60 yards away, nonetheless coming just like the wind, when he all of the sudden swerved. I had the wind, and to today I don’t know what alerted him, except he had seen motion after I backed up or didn’t just like the seems of the weeds that hid me.
He cleared the fence 70 yards from me and stopped, trying immediately at me. I knew he wouldn’t come nearer, and I couldn’t resist a shot. However the arrow sailed beneath him. He whirled and ran, main his bunch in a giant circle again into the bottoms.
I retrieved my arrow and began to observe his monitor. However I knew it was ineffective, so I went again to my automotive. I had no real interest in another deer that morning.
Then and there I named him Mossy Horns. I do know it sounds corny, however with that irregular rack and people two lengthy tines on all sides of his face, it fitted him. I vowed I’d hold after him till that fantastic head was mine.
I knew I’d have a number of competitors. I used to be not the primary hunter who had seen him, nor would I be the final. Tales had circulated in that neighborhood for 2 or three years, amongst bowmen and gun hunters, of a giant buck with an uncommon rack. I had heard them however had discounted them as tall tales. Now that I had seen him, I spotted not one of the tales had achieved him justice.
I hunted the river bottoms alongside Dan’s farm till the bow season closed after Christmas. I had half a dozen probabilities at lesser deer, however on every event the reminiscence of that freak rack saved me from taking pictures. If I stuffed my license I’d be by way of. If I waited, I would get one other likelihood at him. I noticed him twice extra, however at a distance each instances, after which the season ended.
I had hunted alone that fall, however when the 1959 season opened, Gene Halloran, a retired farmer, and Charley Marlowe, a Hastings promoting government and the one member of our Oregon Path Bowhunters Membership who had killed a deer with a bow as much as that point, joined me. I by no means wish to want companions dangerous luck, however I couldn’t assist hoping neither of them would get the buck I used to be after.
By that point Dan had his personal causes for wanting the massive deer killed. Two years earlier than Dan had planted 50 younger spruces for a windbreak about 30 yards from his home. For some motive, the massive buck had taken both a marked liking or dislike to them. He tore them aside along with his antlers and hoofs and killed each one. There was no query what deer had achieved it, both, for he left his tracks in every single place; no different whitetail in these elements may have made them.
The Platte bottoms in that space are lined with a dense combination of cottonwoods, brush, willow tangles, weeds, and grass, and are dotted with numerous islands, some small and simple to get to, others large and surrounded by deep water. Many locations that may be reached early within the fall turn into inaccessible later when the sloughs and channels are half-frozen. A belt of untamed nation with farmland on both aspect and the shallow river winding by way of the middle, these bottoms are a deer hunter’s dream.
Halloran, Marlowe, and I constructed tree blinds in half a dozen locations, nailing up small platforms 10 to twenty toes from the bottom, relying on the bushes we put them in and the peak and thickness of the encompassing brush. Such blinds are a giant assist to the bowhunter, since they get him up the place deer should not prone to scent or discover him. Within the type of nation we hunt, they’re near important. The duvet is so dense it’s virtually unimaginable to stalk deer. We have now to determine their routes and habits from their tracks after which wait them out.
Except alerted by motion, whitetails not often lookup. They’re used to hazard on the bottom and search for bother at that degree. They don’t pay a lot consideration to a platform or a immobile hunter ready overhead. Getting right into a tree above them usually means the distinction between a protracted shot and a shot at good bow vary—or no shot in any respect.
For all our preparations and plenty of hours of searching, the lengthy archery season was slipping by with out our glimpsing the massive buck. I used to be resigning myself to the truth that he had moved out of the realm or would possibly even be useless. We’d had no phrase of a hunter taking him, however there are at all times poachers in addition to pure misfortunes.
Marlowe lastly bought an excellent doe and stop searching. Gene and I saved at it, however I had about given up hope on Mossy Horns. Then, one November night, I noticed him coming extraordinarily cautiously down a slough 150 yards away. Except he modified course, he’d stroll previous me past vary. He stopped twice on the fringe of thickets to observe and check the wind. As far as I may inform, his antlers have been an identical with these he’d carried a yr earlier than. I concluded I had realized one thing many hunters don’t know. Apparently nontypical whitetails stay in that class all their lives, rising a rack considerably the identical form every year.
I waited till he was past me, with a thick display screen of brush between us, after which began essentially the most cautious stalk I’d ever made. A tough wind was blowing, and he was heading into it. By warding off to 1 aspect with brush between us, perhaps I may shut in for a shot.
I tiptoed after him for half a mile. He stopped a number of instances, and every time I waited. 3 times he rubbed his antlers vigorously in opposition to a bush, and whereas he was doing so I sneaked nearer. I had him in vary twice, however there was an excessive amount of brush in the best way.
Lastly he stopped once more, on the border of a thicket, alternately standing quiet and alert, then combating a bush along with his laborious and polished antlers. I inched in till I used to be 25 yards away and was slipping round a willow clump to shoot when a dry twig broke beneath my toes.
The buck didn’t look, stomp, or snort. He went out of sight within the brush in a single crashing sure. Nicely, I mirrored, no deer lives to succeed in that measurement with out studying all there’s to learn about avoiding hazard.
I noticed him as soon as extra that yr, on the final night of the season, as I used to be developing from the bottoms at nightfall. The sunshine was virtually gone, however I made out the white throat patch of a deer, after which the massive antlers of Mossy Horns took form within the gathering darkish. He was standing within the open, out of vary, calmly watching me. I ended to stare at him, and after I moved he whirled, and his upflung flag waved derisively, then light out of sight on the far aspect of the sphere.
“O.Ok., Mossy,” I muttered beneath my breath. “Subsequent yr will probably be totally different.” It could have been, too, however for a bit of typical deer-hunter impatience and a blunder on my half.
That fall of 1960, our searching social gathering grew to 4. Del Austin, a warehouse supervisor from Hastings and an enthusiastic convert to bowhunting, joined Marlowe, Halloran, and me.
I had saved monitor of the massive deer all summer time. Dan noticed him about each three or 4 weeks, by no means removed from his hangout on the Platte bottoms, and when the season opened on September 10, all of us believed we had his habits discovered.
There was one specific spot through which I had religion, the nook of a cornfield bordering the bottoms. I had discovered his recent tracks there three or 4 instances towards the tip of summer time and concluded it was one among his common crossing locations. So I constructed a blind in a close-by cottonwood and resolved to remain in it till he got here alongside.
I waited in that blind each likelihood I bought for seven weeks, rising increasingly impatient. Then, one cool afternoon towards the tip of October, two bucks strolled out into the corn 200 yards down the fence. They have been removed from matching the deer I needed, however they have been good whitetails and I yielded to temptation. As quickly as they have been out of sight within the corn, I climbed down and began after them. I used to be pussyfooting down a corn row 70 yards from the tree when one thing made me look again. Mossy Horns was standing beneath my platform trying laborious in my route. Apparently, he wasn’t positive what I used to be, however he walked slowly away till he bought my scent, and that was that.
A couple of week later, Charley Marlowe was in a tree blind when 4 deer walked previous him at good vary. He drove an arrow right into a younger buck, and it ran out into the corn and dropped. Earlier than Charley may climb down, the massive deer stepped out of the comb 30 yards away, stood broadside, blew a few instances, and ran again towards the river. Marlowe’s license was stuffed, however he admitted afterward he was glad when the deer skedaddled.
“A person can stand simply a lot temptation,” he instructed us with a dry grin.
Earlier than that season ended, I had one other likelihood. I used to be again at my stand within the cottonwood, and my spouse Velma, who has bowhunted so long as I’ve, was in a smaller tree about 50 yards away. We waited all afternoon, and nightfall was deepening after I began to climb down. Simply then I heard a twig break, and there was the massive buck, head lifted, ears pointed forward, taking quick mincing steps. I had by no means seen an animal extra alert.
I FROZE and let him stroll beneath my tree and past it. Then I drove my arrow at his shoulder. I heard it hit, an excellent stable thunk, and he flinched and bolted. There was a woven-wire fence nailed to the tree Velma was in, and he crashed into it so laborious he virtually toppled her off her platform. Then he was gone.
We may discover no blood, and by then the sunshine was so poor we determined to go as much as Dan’s home, kill half an hour over a cup of espresso, and are available again with a flashlight. That was as lengthy a half-hour as I can keep in mind.
We discovered the feathered finish of my arrow not removed from the place the deer had crashed into the fence, however that was all we discovered. There was no blood or another trace of what had occurred. I used to be haunted the remainder of that season by fear that I may need killed him—that he may need crawled right into a thicket to die with out our ever discovering his magnificent rack. The final week I stuffed my license with a 160-pound, three-point (Western rely) buck, my third deer and the primary with a bow.
Nothing occurred the subsequent summer time to alleviate my fears that I had killed Mossy Horns. For the primary summer time in three years Dan did not see him, and we resigned ourselves to the chance that if my arrow had not completed him, time had. From the dimensions of his rack after I first noticed him in 1958, we concluded he’d be no less than eight years previous.
The subsequent season didn’t have fairly its ordinary enchantment for me, and because it went alongside and my luck stayed dangerous, I felt much less and fewer enthusiasm. Charley and Del every killed a pleasant doe—Del’s first deer—and my spouse bought a four-pointer. Gene was laid up quickly from a coronary heart assault. I saved on searching alone, however my coronary heart wasn’t in it.
The season was three quarters over and snow was piled in deep drifts on the bottoms earlier than I bought an opportunity at a deer. Late on a bitterly chilly afternoon, I used to be again in the identical tree the place I had shot on the large buck after I noticed a button buck coming by way of the willows 100 yards away. Then a much bigger one walked into sight behind him, and citing the rear was the deer I had given up seeing once more.
My coronary heart did a somersault. He was strolling warily and craftily, turning his head backward and forward to work that giant rack quietly by way of the comb. It seemed no totally different from after I had seen it final, besides that it appeared larger. The tangle of stubby factors stood out like overgrown thumbs, and the down-curving prongs on both aspect of his head have been no less than a foot lengthy. Despite the icy wind, I began to sweat.
The 2 lead bucks turned out towards the corn, however the large fellow stayed within the willows. Midway between the comb and the sphere, the smaller bucks tried to get by way of a deep snowbank however couldn’t, they usually lastly turned away from me to go round it. Now the massive deer adopted. It was as if he remembered that cottonwood of mine and was avoiding it.
Whereas the three have been selecting their means by way of a clump of bushes on the far finish of the cornfield, half a dozen does got here out of the willows single file, walked beneath my platform inside six yards of me, and began to feed. The 2 smaller bucks got here down alongside the sting of the sphere and joined them, however Mossy Horns hung again within the timber. It was virtually darkish earlier than he ventured into the corn, after which he stayed effectively out of vary.
That was the one time through the 1961 season that any hunter laid eyes on him, however no less than we knew he was nonetheless within the space. I gave him up lastly, and crammed with a four-pointer.
Dan had a subject of milo that he didn’t get round to harvesting that fall. A herd of whitetails fed there all winter, the massive buck amongst them, and early within the spring, on the bottoms not removed from that subject, Dan had the uncommon luck to seek out his shed antlers mendacity shut collectively. Subsequent to the pinnacle itself, that was about pretty much as good a trophy as a person may ask for. The information of a number of factors have been lacking, however one down tine measured 11 inches, the opposite 13 (one nonetheless carried a hoop of dried velvet), and the rack was essentially the most spectacular any of us had ever seen. I had proof now of each declare I had made about this deer for 4 years.
The story of that discover has an attention-grabbing sequel. Final spring, some six months after Mossy Horns was lastly killed, we realized that Max Wilkie, a farmer residing about two miles from Dan, had discovered one other set of shed antlers from this similar buck 4 or 5 years earlier than. The down-swept tine on the left aspect is damaged off about three inches from the primary beam on this set, and the best one is brief, however from the form and factors there isn’t a query that the rack belonged to a youthful Mossy Horns.
In the summertime of 1962, I made a decision that if I couldn’t get to the massive buck, I’d attempt bringing him to me. I spent weeks reducing deer trails by way of the heavy brush of the bottoms, in locations the place I had seen him most frequently, and constructing tree blinds overlooking them. Then, a month earlier than the open season, I cleared out to provide him and the opposite whitetails an opportunity to get used to them.
Two different companions joined us that fall, Kenny Whitesel, a farmer residing close to Hastings and one among Nebraska’s prime bowhunters, and Charley Marlowe’s 16-year-old son Chad. That made six within the social gathering, and every of us had his coronary heart set on Mossy Horns. I used to be starting to fret on one rating. Would his head nonetheless be the trophy it had been up to now? Except we have been incorrect, he was not lower than 9 now, and bucks carry poor racks of their declining years.
I bought the reply to my doubts earlier than the season was many weeks previous. A brand new interstate freeway, I-80, was being constructed by way of our searching grounds on the north aspect of the Platte, and the north channel had been quickly dammed. Strolling the dry river mattress one afternoon, I noticed unmistakable tracks the place the massive buck had gone up the financial institution into an alfalfa subject. I tracked him to a willow-grown island, jumped him, and bought an excellent take a look at his antlers as he crashed away. They seemed as large as ever.
I averted that island from then on, not desirous to drive him out of his bedding space, and I additionally shunned the paths he was utilizing. I noticed him twice the subsequent week. The primary night I used to be in a tree the place a runway crossed a giant slough. Simply earlier than nightfall, 4 or 5 does walked beneath the tree, after which a four-point buck adopted, stopping beneath me to rub his antlers on a bush. The massive deer confirmed up proper after that, however he moved off with out coming shut sufficient for a shot. The subsequent time he was much more cautious, sneaking out to the sting of the comb downwind from me after which vanishing quietly.
SEEING NO MORE of him for every week, I searched the river mattress once more, discovered his tracks on a path he had not used earlier than, and constructed a brand new blind. I had a hunch it was now or by no means. Bowhunting season would shut November 2 for 9 days whereas riflemen took the sphere. Mossy Horns had grown to a legend in that neighborhood now. Plenty of hunters needed him, and I doubted he’d survive the gun season.
An hour earlier than darkish, my first night within the new blind, I noticed him slip out of thick willows on an island and head my means. He crossed the dry channel, entered the comb beneath the financial institution on my aspect, and got here on till he was solely 15 yards from me. I had deer scent sprinkled across the base of the tree, the wind was in my favor, and I used to be positive it was throughout however the taking pictures.
The deer had different concepts. He stopped in brush so thick I may barely make out his define. Nothing that has occurred to me in a lifetime of searching shook me up the best way the subsequent 10 minutes did. They appeared like 10 hours. Neither of us moved a muscle. Though a deer shouldn’t be prone to lookup of his personal accord, he’s virtually positive to detect the slightest movement, even in a tree overhead. Lastly the buck turned, bounded up on prime of the financial institution, nonetheless in thickets the place no arrow may get by way of, and began to stroll round my tree. The wind had died, and all the pieces was so quiet I used to be afraid he’d hear my pounding coronary heart.
He halted the place a fence got here right down to the river, not 20 toes from my platform, and I needed to attempt for him the best way a strangling man desires air, however I knew higher. If I muffed this opportunity, I couldn’t hope for an additional.
He tortured me for an additional 10 minutes, lastly clearing the fence and strolling out right into a subject of alfalfa. He was 45 yards from me when he stepped out of the comb, and I despatched my arrow at him immediately. It sang simply over his again and whacked into the bottom past him. He was again within the thicket in a single lengthy bounce.
WE WERE HUNTING each doable minute now, figuring out the bow season would quickly recess. On the final afternoon in October, Halloran, Whitesel, and I bought to Dan’s place early, hurried to the bottoms, and selected our stands. Del Austin and Charley Marlowe left Hastings after work, figuring out they’d have lower than an hour to hunt however counting that well worth the journey.
Del had deliberate to make use of one among my blinds however couldn’t afford to waste time on the lookout for it. So he put up a small, moveable platform he’d introduced, a rig that would shortly be hung in a tree. Earlier than he climbed up on it, he poured buck lure across the tree and trimmed away some willow tops which may intervene along with his taking pictures.
There was solely room to face on the platform, and Del hadn’t hung it fairly degree. His legs ached and he couldn’t change place, however he caught it out so long as there was sufficient mild for taking pictures. Eventually he gave up, clipped his arrow again within the bow quiver and took out a cigarette earlier than climbing down.
As he opened his lighter, he heard a crashing 50 yards upwind, after which the largest deer he’d ever seen broke out of thick brush. Within the fading mild, Del couldn’t see the horns clearly sufficient to determine the buck, however he realized that this was a buster whitetail and that its guard was down, perhaps due to the deer scent across the tree. That may be a robust attraction for a buck on the peak of the rut.
The deer got here at a useless run, stopping as soon as and half turning as if on the lookout for one thing, then coming once more. He skidded to a cease, broadside, 20 yards from the tree, and Del drove a broadhead in behind his entrance leg. The buck whirled, plowed into the comb, and was gone. Del heard him cease briefly 40 yards away, after which stroll on by way of the dry leaves.
Marlowe, Halloran, Whitesel, and I bought again to Dan’s about darkish. We waited an hour, then began out with flashlights to search for Del. We met him midway to the river, listened to his story, and went again with him to seek for the deer. He was nonetheless undecided it was Mossy Horns, however from his description I had little or no doubt.
We discovered the path simply. There was a number of blood, and earlier than we had adopted it far we discovered the damaged arrow, snapped off 10 inches above the pinnacle. That meant a tough hit with deep penetration. We trailed the deer by way of brush and slough grass for 3 hours, and by then our lights have been giving out and the blood signal was down to a couple drops or a smear each 30 to 40 yards. Eventually we misplaced it altogether. Del tied his handkerchief on a bush to mark the place, and we went dwelling to attend for morning.
I DIDN’T SLEEP MUCH, and at daylight I used to be again. I picked up the path and had adopted it one other 100 yards after I heard Del and Dan coming. We unfold out, and the subsequent time I noticed Del he was crouched down along with his bow at full draw. However after a number of seconds he eased off and motioned for me to circle in from the opposite aspect. Then I noticed the deer mendacity in a clump of willows, antlers tangled within the brush. One look was all I wanted. Del had killed the buck I had hunted for the previous 5 years.
The indicators of age have been plain on him. He was grey across the face, his loins have been sunken, and he carried hardly an oz. of fats. From what I do know of meat animals, I estimated he was 60 kilos lighter than he’d been in his prime two or three years earlier than, however nonetheless he dressed out at 240. His rack was much less huge than the shed one Dan had discovered, however it was nonetheless a terrific trophy. He was as stout-hearted as ever, too. Del’s arrow had achieved a clear and thorough job, but he had run practically 1 / 4 of a mile after he was hit.
Measured by Glenn St. Charles of Seattle, an official measurer for the Pope and Younger and Boone and Crockett golf equipment, his rack scored 279-7/8 factors. The Pope and Younger Membership is anxious with recording trophy recreation shot by bowmen, and this deer’s antlers exceed its present report of 186-2/8 for a non-typical whitetail by practically 100 factors. Much more spectacular than that, his rack is the third largest recorded for a nontypical whitetail and the largest ever claimed by a hunter. The 2 prime heads on this class rating 286 and 284-3/8. However the late Grancel Fitz, writing in the newest version of Information of North American Large Sport, revealed by the Boone and Crockett Membership in 1958, mentioned of them: “Within the nontypical whitetail class we all know nothing of the 2 very previous and strikingly comparable specimens which stand on the prime, besides that they’re Texas bucks from the old-time Buckhorn Saloon assortment in San Antonio … However each of those remarkably symmetrical freaks are far forward of another trophies of their class.” And definitely Mossy Horns was means forward of the subsequent buck on the nontypical whitetail checklist, shot in British Columbia in 1905 and scoring 245-7/8.
We may discover no signal of my shot of two falls earlier than, even once we dressed him, and the one guess we may make was that my arrow had struck one of many down-pointing tines alongside the buck’s neck and damaged its head off with out drawing blood.
We dragged him throughout the bottoms to the sting of the fields, and I stayed with him whereas Del and Dan went again after Del’s automotive. I had quite a bit to consider all of the miles I had tracked him, the various instances I had seen him, the pictures I’d had and missed. Till the earlier night time, I had at all times kidded myself that I’d be the hunter to down him. I suppose as a result of I had hunted him longer than anybody else and thought I had earned the best. I received’t say I wasn’t jealous of Del’s good luck, for I’m afraid I used to be. However on the similar time, subsequent to taking that super rack myself, nothing may have happy me greater than having it fall to a searching accomplice, a fellow bowhunter, and a sportsman who deserved it on each rely.
Turning that angle over in my thoughts, I felt higher. After which I had one other pleased thought. The massive buck had left loads of sons there on the Platte bottoms. A few of them have been sure to prove large, and someplace amongst them there would possibly even be a nontypical rack one thing like his.
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