Lessons learned from bucks not taken

Sitting in an East End tree stand on an uneventful Thursday morning hunt, I had some time to review in my mind a few of the biggest bucks I never shot. Of course, I've been lucky enough to drop a few bruisers over the years, but I'll forever be haunted by several big-racked whitetails that have crossed my path unscathed.

The first great buck I never got was a Manorville Monster. It came through the woods silently from behind my tree stand, but I caught a glimpse of the antlers as I turned to look over my shoulder. They were tall, perfectly typical -- an oxymoron if ever there was one -- and the biggest I had ever seen.

Fortunately, the buck hadn't seen me and I prepared to draw as it stepped into my shooting lane. Just then, several cyclists came racing down a nearby dirt trail and the big buck spooked.

As he bounded off before I could shoot, I lowered my bow and took a deep breath. My hands were shaking. Only when I looked up again did I notice an even bigger buck standing just 10 yards behind where the first one had been.

With tines several inches taller than the first monster, he stared right at me before bounding away. He had been in range and broadside, but I was so focused on the initial bruiser that I didn't see him until too late.

Even among giants, the biggest bucks follow more than they lead. It was a lesson learned that has led me to always look for a second or even third buck before I decide to shoot. It is a point that has served me well ever since.

It was in the hilly woods of Westchester that I missed an opportunity with the widest-racked whitetail I've yet to see. I had slipped into a small patch of woods as a freezing drizzle intensified and evolved into wind-swept snow. After enduring two hours of absolute misery, I heard a sound like a grunting pig. Straight ahead was a huge 12-point walking in at a brisk pace.

Approaching head-on and grunting every step of the way, this trophy failed to present a clean shot. With little choice, I allowed it to pass right under my stand and hoped for a quartering-away opportunity. The plan worked perfectly -- until the crackling sound of ice busting free of my bowstring rattled the woods as I drew. Needless to say, that buck didn't stay to chat.

Be aware at all times of changing weather conditions, and the effects it may have on your equipment and shooting capabilities is the lesson learned from this encounter. A simple draw of the bowstring every hour is a practice I now use regularly when the rain and freezing temps begin to mix. I've yet to be foiled by the elements since.

There are other stories of monster bucks that caught my scent, saw me move, heard me draw or picked me out in some way or another. Lessons have been learned from each of them. Collectively, they've taught me to be a better bow hunter over the years and, truth be told, I have few regrets that each still walks the woods in my mind's eye.

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