North Country Hunting Adventure

[Boneshaker25]

The following is a true account of an actual hunt that occurred in the wilds of Ontario, Canada during November 11th thru the 15th.
Non of the names or faces have been changed.

I struck out from NC on 11/9 heading to Ontario for my fourth trip in as many years to spend five days in the woods looking for a trophy whitetail.
Two years ago I missed a big ten pointer at 30 yards with my muzzleloader and I am still upset about it but was looking for a little redemption.

I made the long but uneventful drive of about 26 hours split over two days in which I got to look at some pretty country (except when the GPS took me through the middle of Chicago). Ran into a snow storm in central Wisconsin, it was pretty, but it didnt slow me down. I crossed the border shortly after lunch on Thursday; making a quick stop in Fort Francis to get my license, and I was on the back on the road for the last two hours of the trip.

Rolled into camp that afternoon, where I had some time to catch up with the guys who had been hunting the week prior to see how they made out. Out of six guys, four had tagged really nice bucks and the other two were out on stand trying to fill their tags. One guy ended up missing a ten pointer and the other guy saw deer but none that he was interested in shooting. It all sounded good so I headed off to unpack and get ready for my hunt the following morning. Met up with Jim that evening to settle up and discuss the game plan. He was going to put me in a spot that I had not hunted before but had lots of sign; and with the rut starting to kick in, it may be "the" spot.

After some much needed rest I was up bright and early to meet Jim as well as another hunter. Don (from Asheville, NC) and I made our way in the dark down to the boat ramp. All of the spots we hunt are located in the woods adjacent to a large lake. What better way to access your hunting spots than by boat, albeit a little nerve racking racing across the water with no GPS, depth finder or compass. Talk about white knuckles.


Day 1: I watched a large doe and button head for most of the day interspersed with seeing a three pointer, a four pointer, a spike, and two six pointers.
Lots of action throughout the day and the button head bedded down below my stand. No shooter bucks though.

Day 2: I went to a familiar location; the spot where I missed the large 10 pointer two years before. After settling down in the stand at first light I was serenaded by a pack of wolves howling. I was sure glad I was twenty feet up a tree. Although I never saw them they sounded pretty close.
About two hours in I see a button head feeding towards me. I must have moved because he locked in on me and it took forever for him to settle down.
As I was watching him, his head suddenly snapped up and he began staring into the brush behind the stand. About the same time I heard the heavy crunch of a large deer. I grabbed my bow as the buttonhead turned and ran for the hills. I was thinking that this had to be a buck and my supspicions were confirmed as I craned my neck around to see a 150 class ten pointer walking 20 yards behind me. Behind me was the only spot that I couldn't shoot due to the thick brush. I could only watch as he walked away, even though I was grunting and rattling for all I was worth. That was the highlight of the day as I saw no other deer.

Day 3 saw cooler temps and a light dusting of snow along with a fair amount of wind which made sitting in the stand all day a struggle to stay warm.
I was in a different spot way up in a cove. Had to lug all of my gear about a half of a mile then hang a lock on stand. I was worn out by the time I settled in for the day. I didn't have long to wait before a large doe with a buttonhead in tow arrived. Soon after, I noticed another doe approaching from the left being trailed by a decent eight pointer. Nice deer but not the one I was after. Really enjoyed watching him harrassing the does; you could tell the rut wasn't that far off. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, but as the light started fading in the evening, I heard a deer approaching. Turns out if was the same button head from earlier. He bleated several times and then sprinted into the woods on my right where the doe was waiting. It was really neat to hear the doe grunting back to the buttonhead. Several minutes later they both spooked off to my left. I craned to see what had spooked them and could distinctly hear the sound of a heavy deer walking. Grabbed the grunt call and let out a few grunts. The deer kept walking parallel to me and out of earshot down by the lakeshore. Disappointed, I started gathering my gear to leave when out of the corner of my eye I catch movement. Here comes a super wide dark horn eight pointer walking towards me. I had just taken the cap off my muzzleloader and began scrambling to fish it out of my pocket. By the time I got the cap on the nipple the deer had already passed by me at fifteen yards. He popped out about 40 yards down and I took aim and squeezed. When the smoke cleared there was no deer and no sign or sound. I waited for Jim and after looking for an hour we figured it would be better to come back in the morning. I was really down on myself thinking that I may have wounded this animal. Another sleepless night with nightmares about another missed opportunity.

(Day 4) I eased back into my stand that morning with plans to sit for a while and then start looking for my deer. An inch of fresh snow had fallen during the night covering the ground. There wasn't a breath of air moving. I mean when I say it was quiet, it was quiet; I could hear my heart beating. It was an absolutley beautiful crisp morning with the snow blanketing the trees and landscape. I really enjoyed watching the sun coming up. The scenery was top notch but no signs of life for the first hour and a half. Then, the familiar steps of a deer approaching, It didn't sound like a big deer but you never know. Sure enough, here comes the same doe from yesterday, along with her buttonhead, picking their way though the thick stuff. The buck grunting caught me off guard and I grabbed the Knight and waited. Out pops a really nice eght pointer, probably 130 class with white horns. Definitely not the buck from the day before but a nice one nonetheless. It was tough to watch him walk away but two things were holding me back. The obvious was that it was possible that I had a deer down already and the second was this one was not quite what I was looking for. At any rate I figured it was best to not shoot until I was sure. The nice eight pointer didn't stick around too long and soon disappeared back into the brush. After 30 minutes or so the doe meandered up the ridge with the button head in tow to bed down (as I figured it). Once again I was all alone in the woods. I used the time to study the angle of the shot and scan the ground with the binos for any indication of a hit or a miss. Maybe 45 minutes to an hour had passed (it's hard to tell) when I heard a deer snort and then run. The way the wind had been switching around I assumed that the doe had picked up my scent and spooked. This may be the sign to get down from the tree and start looking around. Something told me to stay put and see how it played out. As I listened to the ruckus the running deer was making I realized that they were heading not away from me, but parallel to my stand. I scanned with the binos to see if I could get a glimpse of the deer. Sure enough I could see the large doe moving through the brush being pursued by a nice buck. I was unable at that time to tell how big he was but easily had eight points or better. The buck had apparently spooked the doe and was bird dogging her through the woods.

Those two deer made enough noise running back and forth as the doe did not want any part of that buck. It was amazing how much noise they made compared to back home in North Carolina. It sounded as though they were knocking down trees as they ran. As I watched the spectacle, a noise from my left and back toward the lake caught my attention. I couldn't believe it; the wide, dark horned eight pointer was making steady pace angling toward me. It was the same buck I had shot at the previous evening.

As he got closer he picked up steam and I realized that the angle he was taking was going to make a shot darn near impossible for an open sighted smoke pole.
I could only watch as he passed by me at less than eighty yards at a good clip, with a lot of brush separating him and I. I watched helplessly as those two bucks relentlessly pursued the doe round and round, never once coming closer than a hundred yards or offering any decent shot. As expected the sounds faded out of earshot and like ghosts they were gone. Five minutes passed, then ten, twenty, and just as I was hanging the Knight back up a twig snapped behind me. Somehow the dark horn (chocolate) eight pointer had gotten around me. He had to have followed the lake shore otherwise I would have seen or heard him. He was within forty yards this time and I lined up for a shot. I was thinking to myself this is it, you had better shoot or he's gone; but I hesitated for just a second and there was no other opportunity as he made his way around me and back up the ridge. I know I was really hesitant to shoot after the miss the evening before, and did not want to take a risky shot even if it meant missing out on the opportunity.

The buck moved up the ridge and then, in a wide arcing circle, worked his way down to the other side of my stand where earlier the chase had been hot and heavy. As he was almost out of sight I saw the doe take off running exactly where the dark horned buck had appeared from earlier. As any hunter knows where the doe goes, so goes the buck.

That time I heard them on the other side of the cove and moving steadily away from me. Emotions were mixed; on one hand I knew that I had indeed missed the buck and did not need to get down and look for him, which was a relief as any hunter will tell you there is no worse feeling knowing that you have a wounded deer in the woods. (Especially in woods that stretch for miles) The flip side was I knew that the odds were good that he may not pass by that way again. I only had the rest of that day and the following to hunt. I glassed every inch of woods where the two had disappeared in to hoping to catch a glimpse of brown. I was caluculating how quickly I could take my lock on stand down and move over to where the deer had gone. I figured I could move the stand closer to the shore line and put myself in a good position, if and when the buck came back through there. I was even studying the trees to pre-determine one to climb so I could quickly set up. Looking at my watch it was 12:07pm, time for a quick lunch and then I would make the move. As I was getting some trail mix out of my pack I heard noise up on the ridge behind me. I knew within seconds it was a buck as I could hear his antlers hitting the brush. Zeroing in on the source I caught a glimpse of dark horns moving through the thick stuff. My first thought was "how the heck did that buck get around me again" As I saw more antlers I realized that this was not the same buck from earlier. In fact it was bigger than the buck I was after.

The buck seemed to be casting out in circles, much as a bird dog looking for a scent would do. I instinctively grabbed the grunt call and rattling horns as I wanted to try and get this guy closer for a sure shot. Elation quickly turned to despair as the buck moved away from me and back out of sight. I continued grunting as I was not even sure he could hear me. In what seemed like an eternity, probably more like 3 minutes, the buck turned back towards me, but followed the path the eight pointer had taken earlier. As what happened before, he disappeared down by the lake shore. I sat down in the stand and felt all of the air go out of me as the realization that the biggest buck of the trip had vanished. Like a gambler with his last chip, I hit the grunt call again, just to be sure. Unbelievably, like the ending in your favorite hunting show, the buck popped back out of the brush by the shore line and was walking parallel to me. His current path was going to take him within 50 yards of my stand. I sat down and steadied for the shot. As he hit what I thought was a good opening I grunted and he stopped, right behind a dang tree! Time seemed to stand still as what was surely only mili-seconds felt like hours. Undeterred I held it on him knowing that this would be most likely my only shot. As he stepped out I anticipated and squeezed the trigger. Blue smoke obscurred the deer for a split second but I stood up in time to see him lunge forward about 20 yards and go down. Emotion washed over me and I began shaking knowing that I had a shot a truly large buck.

My first attempt to exit the stand was cut short as I had not bothered to unhook my safety belt. My second attempt went much smoother as free from the belt I was able to scurry down the tree bypassing the last six steps. This may explain the cuts and bruises. Not sure as I don't exactly remember. As I approached the spot where the deer had been I had a split second of sheer terror as I was convinced that he was gone. No wait, he was just a bit further. (The woods look a lot different from the ground)

There was absolutley no ground shrinkage as he was actually bigger than I had originally thought. 10 tall heavy points and the body the size of a moose. Time for celebration and it was like an Oscar acceptance speech that goes on too long. I was thanking everybody and everything. It's amazing how a big buck will bring out the religious side of you every time. As I later described to Don, there was a revival going on in the woods. People were getting saved, blessed, and baptized all at once. It was sheer jubilation.

To wind this thing down, I got in touch with Jim and he and another fellow (Darren) that was out hunting that day pulled up in the boat. Darren had actually bagged a nice eight pointer and had him loaded up on the bow of the boat. By the time they arrived I had lugged all of my gear down to the shore line (as far as I know) I feel pretty confident that I left some stuff in the woods. I couldnt seem to get it together.

After some pictures and field dressing we managed to get him loaded up and back to camp where we weighed him along with Darren's deer. Darren's weighed in at a respectable 260lbs dressed. My deer went an unbeliveable 330lbs dressed giving him a live weight of 400lbs! That night I got him caped out and ready for the long trip back home. Attached are some pictures taken from the stand during the hunt and of course pictures of the deer itself.

Thanks for reading my story. Sorry it took so long.

[captnemo]

Amazing, Thats just awesome, glad you got him, he is a giant. Now I just need the name of that outfitter

[Boneshaker25]

Hey Nemo,

good to hear from you. Have you been fishing any? Would like to get down to Hatteras as soon as possible.
Any plans for Thanksgiving?

[captnemo]

Working overseas now, then we have baby due first week in Dec. My winter is probably shot until spring BFT season, we'll catch up then. Bought a house in nags head, so I'm staying down there most of the season, and boat lives down there now too.

[Boneshaker25]

That's great. congratulations, boy or girl?

[NY Bearhunter]

IT'S A BEAST FOR SURE, GREAT TRIP...