Ben’s First Buck!

Charlie Black is the executive Director of the Kansas Wildscape Foundation and one of our newest members here on IDO HUNTING.

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Welcome to In-Depth Outdoors Charlie!!!

The following is a story that Charlie wrote about his Son’s first buck.

Ben Black – Age 10

Ben hunted last year for two days with no success. Last year we had one decent buck at 100 yards, but it never turned broadside and I wouldn’t let him take a straight-on shot. Ben’s attitude has always been perfect. Didn’t care about the size of buck, or doe, that he would shoot for his first deer. I think the only deer he wouldn’t have shot would have been a spotted fawn still suckling on momma. Other than that, look out deer. Still, when it comes to pulling the trigger, I wondered if he may think differently. Only time would tell.
Wind was a constant 20-30 mph out of the north on opening day this year. Our morning sit on top of a ridge in a nice, comfy box blind produced no sightings. At 11:00, we left and went to town for lunch and regroup. I checked the weather and the wind was going to keep blowing all day long. I decided to propose an audible to Ben. Told him that we’re going on a covert operation deep into the woods. No blind, no feeder, no expectations. Told him the shot would be close, but difficult due to the density of the trees. We can’t talk. We can’t move around much. We’ll have to lay on our backs on a wooded hillside and hope to catch something traveling the creek bottom below our location. It will be cold.

“Sounds like an adventure. Let’s do it.” Ben said.

I had left my gear bag in the ground blind in the morning location, thinking we’d return. All I had in my truck was an extra pair of rattling antlers. No grunt call or doe call. I had three bullets in my pocket.
“Ben, I’ve only got three bullets. The rest are in my bag.”

I said. “That’s okay, right? I should only need one to kill it.” Ben innocently replied.

Found some camo netting and headed into the woods about 1:30. Went to a spot deep in a large hollow where I had seen a couple nice rubs on mature trees a few weeks back when I was returning from a bowhunting sit. We found a nice log for a backrest within 20 yards of the rubs and set up. Propped a long piece of timber in front of us and wedged it high enough to give Ben a gun rest. Spread out the netting over the rest, and we laid back and waited.

Looking at the terrain in front of us, I quickly realized that this is going to be trickier than I had thought. There were six narrow shooting lanes available, longest available shot about 40 yards. Ben and I numbered them, from left to right. Lane 1 was to the right of a bush, Lane 2 was under a leaning tree, Lane 3 was the white rock, and so on. The idea was for me to call out the lane for Ben to set up in once I saw a deer on the move. When the deer hit the lane, I would do my best imitation of a grunt with my voice and hopefully get the deer to stop. We practiced setting up for the lanes. I’d call out a number, and Ben would slowly move into position. Laying side by side, with the wind in our face and to our advantage, I was pretty sure that I’d be able to communicate with Ben should something happen to wander in.

About 2:30, a doe appeared deep in the woods, Lane 2. Ben got in position. Binoculars revealed that it wasn’t a doe, but a really little spike buck. Really little, like 2″ spikes. Ben found him in the scope but had no shot. The little buck fussed around for a little bit and drifted up the hill to our left without entering any available lane. No shot. I rattled the antlers since I had nothing to lose at this point, but clearly this little buck was aware of his tiny weapons and he fled to the hills. “Dang it.” Ben whispered. “I would have shot that buck!” Any doubt that I had had regarding Ben’s true desire to shoot about anything was removed at that point. “It’s on! ” I thought to myself and felt an elevated sense of excitement.
At 2:45, a six-pointer worked the creek bottom, parallel to our location, about 100 yards. No shot, but good to see deer on the move.

At 3:00, I see a big buck working towards us, much like the little spike had done. “There’s a nice buck, Ben. Deep down Lane 2 again.” Ben repositions, but can’t really see the buck yet. “Just hold steady. You’ll see him soon enough. He’s headed straight for us. Once he clears the creek, you’ll see him.”

The buck came up out of the creek bed. “I got him.” Ben whispered. “I don’t have a shot, but I got him.”
“Okay. Just keep watching him. Don’t move. Let’s see what he does.” I whispered back.

Now I could really see the buck, and it was clear to me that he was a monster. My pulse quickened. The buck appeared to be checking a scrape, marking various areas with scent, nibbling tree branches. Definitely acting like he was in control of this area. After about two minutes, the buck turns around and starts walking back the way he had originally came. Leaving. I picked up my antlers and rattled pretty hard, since he was upwind of us. The buck stopped and looked over his shoulder. “He heard it.” I said. Or thought. I can’t remember. It was at this moment my mind started racing. Now what do I do?

The buck loses interest and starts walking away again. I rattle again, this time a little longer. The buck turns and starts walking right at us, looking right at us it seemed. Then he veered to the left, threatening to travel the path of the spike buck. I lowered my antlers below the log in front of us for concealment and start tickling them together. Buck veers back and picks up his pace. I don’t know what Ben is doing at this point, as no words have been spoken since the rattling came into play. One thing is for sure: this is about to get interesting.

The buck moves briskly through Lane 2, heading to 3. A huge oak tree separates Lanes 3 and 4. Buck passes through Lane 3 and when he’s behind the tree, he decides to run. Not away from us…right at us. A hard right turn and straight up Lane 4 he charges. I feel like screaming. Running. Passing out. Instead, I make what I think was a loud grunt sound, but probably sounded more like a chicken squawk. Whatever the sound was, it stopped the buck cold, 10 yards down the slope from us. He’s glaring right at us, breathing heavily. He’s mad. I think he’s going to kill us. I’ve seen the video of a rutting buck cruising the aisles of Walmart in search of willing does. Rutting bucks are crazy.
My eyes slowly move to Ben and I can see that he’s got the gun pointed at the buck and he’s looking through the scope. At what, I don’t know, but he appears to be in position. My head is about 18 inches from Ben’s head, and I plead to him “Shoot him in the chest…shoot him in the chest.” No shot. It was very possible that Ben can’t see the buck clearly in the scope at 10 yards. It was also very possible that Ben has passed out and the gun stock is supporting his head. “Shoot him in the chest!” I whined. Nothing. After 10 seconds (that seemed like 10 minutes) at 10 yards, the buck bolts up to our right and is now at our elevation on the slope. He stops 10 yards to our right with his head blocked by a large tree. He’s crosswind. He’s going to bust us soon. Ben is still frozen in Lane 4. I reach down around Ben’s waist, lift him up and rotate him to the right (a move we had practiced earlier) while at the same time saying “Lane 6”. Ben’s head stays upright; he’s still alive and conscious. We wait.

The buck shuffles around behind the tree for a few seconds and then catches a scent of something he doesn’t like – most likely us – and sprints back down the slope. He’s a blur through Lane 6, heading diagonally for a deep Lane 5. I cry for mommy and the buck stops, broadside. Not in Lane 5, not in any lane. Just somewhere, out there, 50 yards away, in a spot that looked fairly clear for a shot. Not for me (I didn’t have a gun) as there was a small tree blocking my angle, but maybe for Ben. I look at Ben. He’s pointed at the buck.

“Do you have him in the scope?”

“I got him.” Ben said.

“Can you hit the target area?”

“I got him.” Ben says again.

At this point, I have to trust that all of the range practice, the conversations, and efforts leading up to this moment are about to pay off. I have to trust Ben. He’s the one looking through the scope.

“Deep breath and squeeze, buddy…”

Bang. Perfect shot!