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The broken call buck

brock ratcliff

Dignitary Member
Supporting Member
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247
As many of you know, Mason had us chasing a couple of extraordinary bucks for the last several years. We had pretty much determined we were not going to kill anything but those two deer for the three seasons we chased them. At the time, it seemed like destiny would eventually reward Mason with an opportunity at one of them, but it never happened. Over those seasons, I watched Mason, who was 11-13 during those years, let 150" deer walk without even questioning. A little bit of that rubbed off on me. Carrying a little vid cam on most of my hunts, coupled with the fact I knew there were a couple of deer 200+ inches around, I just lost the will to kill. I don't think it's a bad thing. Maybe, I thought, I've just killed enough "nice" deer. I don't need to kill deer. I've grown to hate messing with a dead deer. Some of you know, I view a miss or a passed deer as a win... All the fun, none of the mess. Catch and release deer hunting, and you can go back and do it again tomorrow!

The deer of our dreams killed each other at the end of October. I like to think I learned a lot from them. I never knew individual deer so well. I never imagined how much ground deer call home. They are everywhere and will move to a different area when they darn well feel like it. If you are seeing one in your locations, kill him while he's there, he won't be there long.

Knowing we just do this stuff for fun, Mason and I agreed we would kill a couple of bucks and move on to other pursuits this season. They don't have to be giants. There doesn't have to be years of history behind them. There does not need to be a long tale of struggle. Just kill a couple of decent bucks, enjoy it, do it right, make a good shot, play by the rules. Be humane. Attainable goals.

Any of you that know me, know that Mason is not only my son, but he is my best buddy. I love to fish and hunt, but do not do a lot of it without him by my side anymore. I've enjoyed teaching him what I think I know about all things wild. He has absorbed it like a sponge. He has learned things on his own too, I'd like to take credit for some of it, but mostly it's his desire to do things right that has made him the good young man he's becoming. And for what it's worth, I don't think there are many 14 year old kids that shoot 70 yard groups with archery tackle the way he can. He's worked at it. You can't teach that.

Having bragged him up, I will admit readily that while he's a good learner, he's also taught me a lot. Patience- We don't HAVE to kill this deer just because he has a nice rack. Plenty of time in the season, enjoy every minute. (2 of the last 3 years he killed a buck the last week of January). And he reminds me of my own instructions, "It's just for fun".
One thing Mason has picked up on and run with is calling. I have killed a pile of deer due to rattling and grunt calls. Seriously, its a go-to for me when the timing is right. Mason, however, has the natural ability to call in bucks with doe bleats. He does it with his own voice. Just last week he almost killed the biggest buck we know about by calling him in. I've used a can call a time or two, and had a few respond, but not enough to say it ever made me confident. Mason, however, feels like if he wants a buck close, he can talk him in...and he's right a lot of times!

Yesterday afternoon while rummaging through a bunch of old hunting crap, I came across and old Quaker Boy doe bleat call. It's just a black plastic tube with a reed of some sort in it. Give it a little inhale and it makes a sorta doe sounding noise. I have had that thing for at least 20 years and in that time I've probably carried it a handful of times. Since that last time I'd seen it, the tube had been smashed by something, it doesn't look too pretty, but figured I'd pack it along because I can't make the noises Mason can with just my voice. What could it hurt?

I dropped Mason off by his fencerow stand and drove over to hunt the "creek stand". I snuck through a standing cornfield, slid through a little patch of white oaks and into my stand. I pulled up my bow, sat down and within a minute saw a doe milling around on the opposite bank. A short time later, a fawn followed her into the adjoining woods. Perfect. Nothing knows I'm here...

The doe came back out around 6 and walked down the opposite creek bank, this time with more purpose. She was going to start her evening feed. Shortly, a doe fawn and button buck came out of the thicket, crossed the creek and came by 20 yards. Exactly as I hoped a good one would do. I noticed they too were not just fooling around, they were going somewhere with purpose, heading to food I suppose. Mason and I were texting and he had not seen anything at that point. I gave him the encouraging news that it wouldn't be long before he would have deer around as they were starting their evening parade.

I shot a bully squirrel that had run off a little red squirrel. I don't like bullies, and I'm only doing this stuff for fun, right? I enjoyed that. Just having fun. Not too worried about that mystical 200'er that might be just out of sight...who cares? Just for fun.

The wind laid down and as anyone who has done this thing a time or two knows, I felt it was "go time". I perked up a little. Started paying a little more attention. Stuck my chilled hands into the pocket of my vest and felt the jagged plastic of that old broken call. What the heck... Maaaa. Maaaaa. Maaaaa. I swear, when you call, sometimes you know it falls on deaf ears. Sometimes you just know, THAT time it worked. It's the same with turkeys, deer, whatever. Sometimes even when you can't see them, you KNOW they heard it...

Sure enough, within a couple minutes, I look at the creek crossing and there he stands on the opposite bank. Just looking. Swinging his antlers, wondering where she is. He turned broadside. "I can kill him right there", I thought. 45 yards. "I'm not killing him"... "Shoot, Mason has my vid cam"....

He starts down in the creek, slowly. Stops about half way across in the belly deep water and takes a drink. He moves on to my side, stopping again to nibble a bit on the bankside vegetation. I don't know, do I want to use my tag... I hate to use my tag!!!!! He comes up the steep bank, stops looking straight at me as I hide behind my bow, looking at him through squinted eyes.

I win the stare down. He comes on up the bank. He turns his head. I see he has a split G3. It makes him look like he has a short picket fence for antlers. I'm killing him. Mason and I have a deal, this one will make my end of it complete.

He stands there for some time. Looking down the creek. If he goes that way, I've got a 22 yard shot. If he continues straight into the standing corn, he will be close enough to spear. He goes straight!

I'm in a forked white oak tree and he I have my bow on the wrong side to shoot behind me. As he walks 5 yards behind my tree, I swing bow up and over to allow my arrow to clear the trunk. By the time I make the move, he has cleared the right side of my tree. I wait just a second to get that big shiny eyeball away from me. There, I'm drawn, he's quartered away at 15-20 yards. I settle the pin and remember the last words I said to Mason when I dropped him off, "Keep that big, beautiful pin on his ribs. Don't rush it". That glowing green pin was beautiful. Suddenly it was replaced with a glowing green lighted nock. Thwack. He bolted, stopped after a 40 yard run. Staggered, and fell silent. It's over. He's dead.

I sat down. Man, that was fun. Then the all too familiar feeling of guilt. Man, he was pretty. I can't believe I killed that deer for my own selfish desire to feel the rush. Poor thing. Shame on me... Gosh, I wish I could do that again. It's just weird, the things you feel pulling your soul in so many directions at these times.

My phone vibrates. It's Mason. It reads simply, "I've lost count". Good, he's having a blast, living life at it's best right now. So I sent out a few texts even before climbing down. I decided I'd just let Mason wait...

I had time to kill before picking Mason up. I climbed down, gathered up my squirrel and went to see the deer. I sat down with him, told him thanks and that I was sorry. I wondered what he would look like next year... Oh who cares, this was fun.

I picked Mason up at dark. He rattled on and on about all the deer he had seen before asking what I had seen. "Four, I think". We turned out of the farm lane towards the creek, opposite of the norm when heading home. "I think I might pull that stand tonight, Mason". "Kinda dumb to do it in the dark, don't ya think"? Maybe. We drove to the stand and on by with me saying we would turn around just ahead. I stopped with the deer's rack showing just above the weeds. Mason said, "What the"... "You killed a deer. You NEVER KILL DEER"! He was pretty excited...

We do just do this stuff for fun. We had a lot of fun last night. We didn't get to bed until well after midnight and his mom made me get him up and drive him to school. Ha Well worth it!
 

Quantum673

Black Hat Cajun
Supporting Member
Awesome story Brock. Thank you for sharing. A well deserved harvest. All the fun with some mess. Keep doing it buddy. Enjoy the rest of the season with your son. As you know it gets no better than the memories you will continue to make with him.
 

brock ratcliff

Dignitary Member
Supporting Member
24,834
247
Oh yeah, sorry.
 

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tpierce

Junior Member
That was a great read Brock. I think you covered just about all the emotions we feel as hunters. I'm from a family where no one but my brother hunted. He talked into hunting with him and his inlaws for gun week. I was hooked. We hunted many years together and made many memories. We lost him to cancer way before his time. Thanks for the thoughtful recount of your hunt. It brought back some of those memories for me.
 

NWOHhunter

Junior Member
879
58
NW Ohio
Nice read! and great looking buck! Most importantly you are making memories with your son! I feel the same guilt shooting anything but I think that is natural feeling to have when you respect your quarry.