The Story of TRT,

A New Beginning

"Killing Time," the title I had given my nineteen day vacation spanning from October 31st to November 19th on my google calendar, had finally arrived. It was time to buckle down and get serious about hunting the new farm I had acquired, The Forty. Leading up to this point, I had only hunted The Forty a handful of times, and with limited opportunities to scout the farm earlier in the year, I was going in virtually blind. There were several good deer showing up on camera, and I had hung three setups across the 125 acre farm that I felt were low impact, observation stands. A fourth stand dubbed the Rut Stand was placed on the east edge of the thickest, nastiest piece I could find on the property.

With warm temperatures the first week of my vacation, I decided to hunt smart, and bide my time, waiting for the action to present itself. According to the experts, the best action was supposed to happen between the 9th and the 19th, so I figured I had plenty of time to watch and learn. Things started off slow, but that was to be expected. Watching the forecast, November 3rd was looking like a great day for activity, as there was rain moving in. Earlier in the week, I had made a move with my mobile setup based off activity I had seen from my observation stand. The setup was good, so I elected to carry in a 20' set of sticks and Millennium receiver to switch out after my morning hunt. I sat until 11 that morning without a single deer sighting. With the rain already starting, I made the switch from mobile to permanent set, and took off around the hillside to relocate my mobile stand for Friday morning. I found a good bowl with thick bedding and hung my LW/Muddy setup in a triple trunk tree overlooking a secluded finger of field leading down to creek bottom. The location wasn't perfect, but it would yield another piece to the puzzle.

As I made my way out for the morning, I did the circle and checked my cams. The buck activity was increasing daily, with a handful of new deer making an appearance. Sitting at the house reviewing the pictures with my wife, I was struggling to decide where to go for the evening hunt. I asked the wife where she thought I should be. After thinking for a moment, she said, "Go to the berry patch. I don't know why, but I have a good feeling about that stand." The berry patch, as we refer to it, is a stand on the edge of a hilltop field that use to be overrun with blackberries, hence the name. I killed a doe two weeks prior from this stand, and there were always a herd of does hitting this field. With the rain clearing out, I agreed that the field edge would make for a good evening hunt. There were a ton of low hanging branches around the field edge, and I just had a feeling the rain would have the bucks on their feet, checking for fresh scent and working new scrapes.

As I settled in for the evening hunt, the rain had begun to taper off. It wasn't long before I had four doe come busting up out of the holler behind me, stopping in the brush at 40y. They milled around for a while, eating browse. I noticed some movement back and to my left, and watched as a good buck came down off the hill, headed straight for his harem. I grabbed my binos and the grunt tube, hitting it twice softly. Bringing the buck into focus, I quickly recognized him as the buck I call Inverted, a 120ish ten. I had him at 40y earlier in the week, and he was a beautiful buck, but not the one I was after. As he worked his way through the thick stuff, he stopped to do some neck exercises, proceeding to tear the crap out of every sapling he came to for a stretch of 50y or so. As he crested the hill to where the does fed, his nose went down and as he picked up the pace. He let out a soft grunt and the does scatter in different directions, one flying down over the hill and snorting like crazy, she wanted nothing to do with him. I watched as he disappeared over the next hill, and things became quiet again. Shortly after, a doe and her fawns made their way out into the field. It wasn't long after that I could see horns coming up the old logging road, it was Inverted again. As he came into the field, he was catching ever low hanging branch he could and working the ground below. He put on a heck of a show, turning dirt over along the field like a farmer preparing to lay down fresh seed. He spent twenty or so minutes making over a dozen different scrapes and offering me multiple shot opportunities before disappearing off to my right.

Not long after he vanished, a 2.5yo eight came flying up over the hill, intercepting one of the now five does feeding off to my left, chasing her off into the brush and grunting every step of the way. More and more does were filtering out into the field as light faded, probably eight or so slick heads. As the sky began to darken, I started to pack my gear up to make my decent from the tree. Just as I had plucked the arrow from the string, looking to send it back to its rightful spot in the quiver, I heard a grunt to my right. Turning, I quickly realized it was the big boy I was after, Typical Ten, so I fumbled to knock the arrow as he approached 25y. Drawing back, I settled into my anchor and started looking for my pins; I couldn't make my peep out, let alone my sight. All I could do was watch as he busted through an opening in the brush line, sighting a doe and roaring at her as her ran her down over the hill. I was shocked. This was the second time I had seen him from this stand in as many hunts. I had to be in his wheel house!

Friday morning came, and I was still riding a high from last night's hunt. It had been a while since I had seen and heard action like that. I was anxious to hunt the mobile set I had hung the day before, so I made my way in well before daylight. Just as the sun was making its way through the trees, I caught movement coming up out of the creek bottom behind me. I caught a flash of tall tines, but that was it as the buck was on the move. Reaching for the grunt tube, I made a few soft grunts, followed by a bleat, and sat patiently. Ten minutes went by, and I had given up on that buck making his way back through, when I caught a white rack making its way out of the brush and down the field edge. TRT stepped out at 20y and I had my bow in hand. As he crossed the field on a b-line to a fresh scrape I had a camera over, I kept debating if I was going to shoot.



The release must have gone on and off the string at least three times while he worked the scrape, before turning and walking right to me. From the side, he looked like a definite shooter, but when he turned to look my way, it was apparent he lacked the width and brows I was looking for. My head was telling me yes as my heart was telling me no every time he turned his head, I found myself knocking my release on the string. Ultimately, my heart won, and I watched as he crossed the creek and worked towards my oak stand. Shortly after, I had a nice 125" nine sneak through behind me, following the same trail TRT disappeared on.

I sat until noon without another sighting before climbing down and packing up. The wife and I had plans for the evening, so I couldn't sit until dark. I decided to relocate in the direction both of those bucks had ventured off to, in an area I had walked right past the day before. The wind was perfect, so I sat up tight to a thicket and did some calling. At 1:30, I had a small eight come busting up out of the brush, disappearing off to my south. An hour later, I had a tall eight respond to rattling, circling me before stopping at 20y. He wasn't quite what I was looking for, so he got the pass as well. At four, I climbed down and headed for the house.

Saturday morning, the wind was right, and I decided I was going to hunt the Rut Stand I had been waiting so patiently to climb into. The walk in wasn't quite as easy as I had hoped it would be. By the time I made it to my stand, the sweat was pouring, and I blown every deer out of the county, I was pissed. We had stuff going on that afternoon, so the plan was to hunt until two or so, and then head for the house. Just before sunrise, I could hear chasing going on in the neighbor’s field. As the sun’s rays broke through the trees, the woods came alive. Two small bucks were harassing a group of does back and forth along the woodline. All of a sudden, I hear a familiar roar, and over the hill comes Typical Ten, scattering the group, reminding the adolescent bucks who was top dog. There must've been doe that was coming into estrus, as he quickly singled her out, dogging her towards the thick stuff behind me. They passed just beyond a shooting lane at 50y, and disappeared into the thicket. A few minutes went by when a young eight came up the hill. I was hoping he would work his way up to where the two had passed through and get something going, but he was distracted by a doe and her three fawns. I watched as several more deer came off the hillside to see what all the commotion was in the holler to my east, but I kept looking over my shoulder, hoping TT would be standing in the shooting lane he had avoided earlier. It never happened.

I watched as young buck after young buck came in to harass the ever growing group of does that had been feeding on acorns to my east, but not a single one ventured on up the hill to where the big boy had taken his lady to bed. The action for the morning died down around 11 as the temperature climbed into the mid 50's. Fairly certain that buck was within 100y bedded with the doe, I made an executive decision to clear my calendar and sit all day. Thankfully, I had a DH button buck that would not leave me alone, so I had entertainment for the slow part of the day. That deer was dead set on driving me nuts, and he succeeded.

Finally, around 4:30, I heard deer in the brush behind me, it sounded like antlers raking through the brush and chasing, just inside 30y. The brush was so thick though, that I never even caught a glimpse of these deer. I could hear deer on their feet, coming up out of the creek bottom and into the thicket I was hunting, but it was impossible to get a visual. Since I had the wind in my favor, i did some calling. At 5:30, I could hear heavy steps coming up the hill towards me, and watched as a heavy racked buck stepped out of the brush and into my lane, It was the Inverted buck, again, I believe he had a death wish. Watching as he worked through inside ten yards, my knee popped, and the dude turned inside out.

[video=youtube;486so1XZWb4]https://youtu.be/486so1XZWb4[/video]

He took off out of there like his ass was on fire, but it didn't take long for him to find a doe to harass. He had his nose up her arse, and was grunting up a storm! The sun was starting to set, and I could hear activity all around me. I can't begin to tell you how many different bucks I heard grunting and chasing that evening, but it was one for the books. Just before dark, the big boy ran his doe into the creek bottom and chased her back and forth across the field, using those drawn out, guttural grunts.

Sunday morning, and I decided to head right back to the Rut Stand, since the action was hot and heavy. Noon was the latest I could stay that day, as my nephew had a birthday party and then we were taking my daughter to see a movie. The action was slow compared to the day before, but I still had two different young bucks come through harassing does. I also heard several grunts in the thick stuff below me, but they never made it up the hill to me.

I had no intentions to hunt Monday morning, because my wife had to work, but she was put on call at 4am, so I got out of bed and headed for The Forty. Since I had seen and heard so much action in the creek bottom, I decided to move in that direction. My mobile setup was pretty close to where I wanted to be, so that was where I was going to go. The leaves were dry, so I decided to take the long way around, using the logging roads to mask my entry the best I could. As I came to the creek bottom, 100y below my stand, I could hear a single deer right by my mobile setup. I didn't want to spook any deer, so I went on out around the hillside and climbed up into my Millennium set in the oaks. This put me within 100y of the stand I wanted to be in, so I figured if the action was slow, I could move later in the morning.

It didn't take long before the deer started filtering in. At first light, I had a 4pt come through with a a 2.5yo eight in tow , working a few scrapes. It was funny to watch, because the four would work a scrape, and as soon as he was done, the eight would come in and overwrite everything the four just did. The whole time, the eight would have his ears pinned back, and sort of posturing to the four, but he never made a move. He was trying to be a hard ass behind his buddy's back. I watched as they played this game before disappearing down over the hill. Not ten minutes later, the nine I passed on Friday came through on a mission. I hit the grunt tube twice, and he cut right towards me, tearing up a sapling and looking for the dude that just called him out. He quickly lost interest, and crossed the ravine headed back towards the stand I wanted to hunt. Just as he disappeared, TRT made an appearance around the hillside, headed into the bowl I hunted Friday. Fifteen minutes went by and I had a nice young eight come up out of the holler and quarter across in front of me at 25y, working the same scrape that the first three bucks had worked earlier. As he was working the dirt, I heard walking to my right, and here come another small eight. He made his way down the hill to the scrape, as if he was going to make his mark, but the 3yo eight wasn't having it. He postured up and laid his ears back, stepping towards the 2yo and snort-wheezing, a first for me. The 2yo flipped out and took off like a bat out of hell down and across the holler. Just as his footsteps faded, I hear a buck grunting, and chasing a doe towards me. I turn to see another nice 3yo eight bring his doe right under me and down the hill towards the 3yo eight. A standoff ensued between the two bucks and the doe, as a third eight came up out of the holler to surround her. Finally, realizing she was outnumbered, she began her escape, with all three bucks in tow. Shortly after they quieted down, another eight came up out of the holler and crossed her trail, nose to the ground like a beagle on a rabbit. I can't tell you if it was one of the eights I had seen earlier, as I was having trouble keeping track of who was who.

It was now 8am, I had seen 10+ deer, and my butt was just touching the seat for the first time. My back was killing me from hitting it so hard the last week, so I needed a break while the woods were quiet. That didn't last long though, because ten minutes later I hear a deer on a dead run coming right up the hill to me. It was a doe, mouth hanging open. She cut across the hillside behind me, and I could see horns coming up the hill, it was TRT. He came by, nose to the ground, grunting, at 15y, and I watched as he ran the doe over the hill and into the same bowl he disappeared into earlier. Not five minutes go by, and I hear another doe coming up out of the holler, with a buck grunting behind her. This time, the doe cut to my right, stopping at 30y in the brush below me. I could see tall tines coming up through the brush, and I was certain it was the Typical Ten from Saturday. He was on a dead run coming right to me, so I drew, and as he jumped out of the brush, I let out a "meh." He came to a screeching halt at five steps, I settled the pin and let it fly. Thwack my shot was high, but down he went. I quickly knocked another arrow and dispatched of him before hanging my bow up, and taking a seat. I was so shook up, what a crazy morning! I closed my eyes and thanked the good lord and just sat there in awe. After collecting my thoughts and calming my nerves, I sent out a few texts, packed up my gear, and made the decent to check out my trophy. As I walked up on him, I realized it was the TRT. For a moment I was bummed because he wasn't the deer I had thought, but I quickly reminded myself how blessed I had been, and how fortunate I was to harvest a very respectable buck with a bow.



This is by far the best year I have ever had, both in terms of quality bucks and quality hunts. I have never had a string of days like I had those five days. Heck, I'm not even sure I've seen that much rutting activity in the last eight years combined! I enjoyed myself more than I have in a long time. This season brought back many memories of my first year’s bowhunting. It's been a long time since I've actually went out and hunted the sign, going off my gut and what clues the deer give you. It reminded me what it was like to truly hunt, to get out there and learn where the deer are traveling and why. This year had allowed me to start all over, a new beginning, and for that I am truly grateful.