July 12th, 2012 I got my first trail camera pictures of him. Before that I didn't know he existed. Four daylight images of him around a corn feeder with a small bachelor group of two other bucks. He had an odd, wide rack, that set him apart, probably due to a previously broken back left leg. I was hooked. Right then I named him "Thumper" because his right antler in velvet looked like a big club. I had to kill this buck come September.
The only small problem? He wouldn't show back up again on one of my cameras until November 11th. And to make it harder, he wasn't moving during daylight hours anymore. I would get him on camera one more time on the 21st in the middle of the night. But what those images did tell me was his direction of travel -- critical information. I now knew roughly where he was bedded and roughly where he was traveling. I just had to intercept him on his travels with enough light to see him.
On December 1st, I found two new large rubs created the night before coming from the direction of travel I had seen on the camera. It was on! I felt like I was closing in to connect with the first buck I had specifically targeted since mid-July. But this guy was clever, and he still had a vote.
That afternoon I decided to use a Buck Bomb for the first time, placing it on a fence post, then backing off about 50 yards to a hilltop and concealing myself in a bush. As the evening fell upon me I decided to move (I know, almost never a good idea to move before last night, but it just felt right). I set up in a treestand close to the Buck Bomb and fence along a dirt road. This gave me a much better field of view.
I texted my wife about dinner and climbing down. She told me to stay put...that I might get lucky. She knew I was specifically targeting Thumper.
Her advice paid off. As the last gray of visible light faded, I heard a deer walking through the trees behind me and coming right toward me. Thumper stepped out of cover at 10 yards and stopped to scan for danger in both directions. With my heart pounding, I slowly eased my rifle up to take aim and flip off the safe. The sound of the safety clicking sounded as loud as a jet engine to me with him so close. But he paid no mind. With a flash & bang, he ran back toward the direction of safety, but I heard him go down, get up and run some more, then go down for good. He went about 40 yards. He had to be lucky everyday... I only had to be lucky once. And he made the fatal mistake of moving a little too early that evening.
My wife helped me pull him out of the woods and load him into my truck, knowing what a special moment this was. Mission complete for whitetail season 2012.
