2016 Southern Illinois Trip

Everything was different heading into this years hunt. Sure I was going to be hunting the same farms, but this time I would be traveling solo for part of the trip. As we get older, priorities change, and most of my friends found themselves tied up with family obligations which kept them grounded for this years trip. There are very few things that will keep me out of the whitetail woods, so when I woke up on November the 6th, I loaded up the truck with two bags of gear and my Hoyt 34 Nitrum and headed to Philadelphia International Airport by myself.

Two hours later I was picked up in Nashville by my friend Cornell, and after taking care of a few of his family obligations, we headed west to Zeigler, Illinois. The drive to camp was full of deer talk and speculations. We didn't have a great weather forecast for the first half of the week, but what we did have was options. Two guys, two farms, over twenty stand locations, and six days to fill two tags. I felt like I would miss out on the camaraderie that goes along with a large hunting party, but having only two guys gave me confidence that I could really focus in on harvesting a mature whitetail.

Johnson County Sunset

The first morning was interrupted by a phone call only an hour into the hunt. My friend had wasted no time and sent an arrow down range, and I was on my way to help him search for it. By the time I reached him, he had already recovered his buck, which didn't even make it out of the food plot. At first, Cornell was upset at his harvest because it fell short of his expectations. After standing over the deer for a while he came to terms with his kill. This was the first time in the woods in two years for him, and the first buck he shot in the last four. As we loaded up the truck with the buck he began to realize that a stocked freezer beats tag soup every time.

With all the pressure on me now, I hunted the same farm for the next two days pretty hard. After only a small fork horn buck and a spike to show for it, I decided to make a move. I changed farms for Wednesday night and immediately had an up tick in activity. In three hours I saw five deer, including my first does of the trip. There was a small cold front in the forecast over night, so I figured I'd give the stand another sit in the morning.

When I woke up Thursday I was greeted with the coldest temps of the trip. I loaded my pack with snacks and hand warmers in preparation for an all day sit, and walked along the crunchy frost covered grass to my stand. As dawn crept through the timber, I saw the same two doe approach me from the night before. The doe was down wind of me and tried her best to pick me out. She knew something was wrong, but could not see me. After a brief stand off, she and the other doe continued to make their way to the adjacent field. The next thirty minutes were eerily quiet. I kept a vigilant watch for a trailing buck, but one never followed the script. I began to settle in for what I thought was going to be a long sit.

Before the sun had broken past the horizon the two doe came racing back towards my stand. I hastily grabbed by bow and focused past them. A young five pointer had chased them from the field directly under me. As I took a quick head count I noticed the true reason why the does were running for their lives. A tall tined, grizzled buck was thirty yards behind the five pointer and closing fast. He was coming out of the reeds and I was staring directly into the sun. I could tell by his face he was a mature buck, but had no idea how big his rack was. I wasted no time in preparing for the shot. He was far and away the largest buck I had seen in four days, and I knew if he presented me with a shot, I had to act on it. As he focused all his attention on the smaller buck, the two doe blew and took off running. I came to full draw and waited for him to step into a shooting lane. The larger buck took another glance at the five pointer and lowered his head to charge him. There was my window, 25 yards broadside, and I let the Easton Axis fly. I watched the arrow connect with the buck perfectly, as he ran about sixty yards and crashed into a sapling. Not fully knowing what I had just shot, I said a brief prayer and calmly sat back down.

The next thirty minutes were equally as surreal as the previous thirty. I figured it was a good buck, and I was almost positive he had expired a half football field away. It was that time of the morning when the woods comes alive, squirrels chasing each other, a few ducks landed in the creek, and then there was me, sitting twenty feet up in a tree trying to piece together what had just transpired. By now I had felt enough time had passed. I made a few calls to my friends, it was time to see my deer.

When Cornell and Mike showed up we first inspected the arrow. I explained the shot, and we all agreed we were going to find a dead buck at the end of the blood trail. As my friends tracked the blood, I lagged a few yards behind. This was all matter of fact to me, I didn't have to anticipate finding the deer, I just wanted to enjoy the moment and hoped it would last for days. I'll never forget Cornell's reaction when he first walked up on the buck. "Yo Cuz, you shot a monster!" Cornell never exaggerates size on a deer. if he thinks it's big, It must be big. I slowly approached the group, it was time to finally see what I shot.

Love at first sight

When I first saw the mass on the left beam I was overcome by joy. I had no words, or actions, for this moment. I hugged them both, than took a knee and gently took hold of the bucks G3 and inspected his massive rack. I thought he was good, but never did I think he was this good. After an impromptu photo shoot we grabbed a tape and scored him out. A touch over 155 inches of pure Illinois whitetail buck.

Mike and Myself

The whole experience has been extremely humbling, and I could not feel more blessed with being able to harvest such a beautiful animal. I know there are larger bucks in the woods, but for me, after only hunting for six years, this is a huge accomplishment. This buck is vindication for all the countless hours spent shooting twelve months out of the year, and all the times spent in a tree stand, with nothing to show for it but experience and sunsets. This buck also gives me validation as a hunter, that I can take my bow into the woods and drag out a mid 150's class buck based solely on the fact that I did it before. It has been almost two weeks since the shot, and I still do not think it has fully set in. People hunt their whole life trying to take an animal of this caliber and never get the chance. It may be a long time before I ever get a deer like this again, but I'm going to try again next year, and the year after that. My 2016 Southern Illinois trip is over, but it is one that I will never, ever, forget.             

2015 Southern Illinois Trip

For the last four years, my group of hunting buddies have made an annual pilgrimage to Southern Illinois in pursuit of giant Midwestern whitetails. I have been fortunate enough to be a part of the last three trips. It is something we look forward to all year long, the opportunity to tag a true monster. For months we watch the pros on television knocking down stud after stud in the Land of Lincoln. There is nothing that compares to the feeling that at any moment, the largest buck you have ever seen could emerge from tangled thickets. We plan our trip months in advance to coincide perfectly with the rut, expecting these mature bucks to be moving around seeking out a receptive doe. To our credit, we have picked out some good weeks in the past with multiple hunters tagging out, or at the very least having opportunities. This year our luck had run out. Anyone hunting in the Midwest this first week of November thought the same thing, It's too damn hot!

I started looking at the weather for Ziegler, Illinois about three weeks before our trip. 70's, 80's, even 85 degrees was in the forecast. Last year when we landed in St. Louis it was 33 degrees at lunchtime. This year, 75. I tried to stay positive, the deer still had to move at some point. The first four days were an absolute grind. I hunted hard, sitting all day twice, only to see a few doe, a spike buck, and a small eight pointer. The small eight gave me some hope due to the fact that I rattled him in to 10 yards, showing obvious rutting behavior. The last 2 hours of my fourth day were washed out by a thunderstorm. I was hoping the weather change would jump start some deer movement, but I was the only idiot not seeking shelter that evening.

After that cold front passed things did get better. The day time highs struggled to reach 60, and the morning lows hovered in the mid 30's. The wind also shifted to the north west, but was relatively calm by Illinois standards. I took a chance and hunted in the timber that night, as opposed to the field edges I had been concentrated on. The move did not pay off, as my friend Tom saw 30+ deer working the field, and I had to settle for a beautiful sunset under a canopy of white oak trees. With one day left I decide to go back to the field edge, but slightly into the wood lot. It was the place on the property which had the most sign, 6 active scrapes, which at this point was more than enough for me to warrant an all day sit.

On the way to my stand on the last morning I was full of optimism. I could see by breath for the first time all week, frost covered the field, replacing the fog of previous mornings. I freshened up a few of the scrapes, climbed into my stand, and waited for dawn to creep over the horizon. As day broke, I interrupted the silence with a brisk rattling sequence followed by a few grunts. Within seconds I had two small bucks rush in to investigate. That was the theme for most of the morning. Small buck after small buck, with a few curious does in between. From 8:30 till 4:00 my only visitor was a 3 pointer who checked out the scrapes around noon.

Outfitter Mike Wright
field dressing a doe

Around 4 pm, 2 doe walked down the main trail into bow range. The larger of the two was alert, checking the intersecting trails and adjoining field. I did not want to shoot her, but she had worn out her welcome. The longer she hung around, the better her chances were to pick me out and blow out all the other deer with her. After watching her for 15 minutes, I finally released an arrow. She ran 35 yards and piled up in the thicket. The doe that was with her continued to forage for acorns, unaware of what had taken place. With 30 minutes of shooting light left, I decided to hit my rattling bag one more time. Almost instantly I had a 125" buck march in 40 yards to my right. As the buck continued towards me, he noticed the doe across the trail. I grunted and snort wheezed frantically, but he was much more interested in that doe, than with me. The dance continued till the sun set, the buck never giving me a shot, as he trailed the doe into the brush.

Southern Illinois Sunset

This years trip fell well short of expectations. We only harvested a handful of doe, and nobody had an opportunity at a quality buck. That being said, the camaraderie experienced at deer camp is tough to beat. We caught up with some old friends while making new friends as well. These are the people that I will look forward to seeing for years to come. If you only judge the success of the hunt by its harvest, than I feel you are doing yourself an injustice. You can experience all the unforgettable memories of a hunt without ever releasing an arrow. I am already planning for next years trip to Southern Illinois, but with all this talk of global warming, the second week of November looks better and better.