Gary Fears Buck
Written by Mike Hand
Gary headed afield on 24 Nov. To begin his weeklong planned hunt, but his luck was dampened by a heightened forecast of bad weather, which added a sense of foreboding to the start of his hunting expedition.
Not even a female deer was secure.
When Gary stepped into the little hole-in-the-wall cafe at noon, he noticed that spring had arrived four days earlier. After he climbed back into his truck with a full belly, he grew considerably less happy.
He was eager to look for another hunt after four decades of hunting, as his second best whitetail hunt would rival the previous four decades. It was the first day of hunting, and before lunch, he was glad to have seen a couple of bucks. He was thrilled to see a world far beyond the windshield of his cruiser trooper. That was the first day of his 2010 hunt in northwestern Oklahoma.
However, there were no occurrences when he rotated the key — softly, securely, and repeatedly. During the initial days of rifle season, there was a minimal possibility that he would encounter any assistance in the small village of 300. Nevertheless.
Gary, a friend who owns a wrecker truck, called his friend who owns a Jeep to tow his truck that broke down 250 miles away in Coweta. The fuel-control module (diesel) was found to be the faulty part to blame. Later, a man helped him connect with a mechanic who couldn’t look at it until Monday. Gary made several phone calls to the mechanic. He ended up calling the owner of 250 acres in County Woods where he leases the land.
The wind’s ferocity would double and the mercury would plummet on Thursday, with the wind blowing at its usual 20 to 25 mph. The daytime temperature had been in the 50s and the wind was blowing fiercely. Gary’s already tainted week took another turn for the worse when he heard the weather forecast for the next several days on Tuesday night.
He wanted it all to be done. Since the previous week, Gary couldn’t fill his tags on Wednesday and even the most sexually active deer seemed to be hiding because of the strong winds. When he decided, there was no time to be picky.
“I simply desired to hunt a deer, any respectable one, and return home,” he confessed.
Pursuing female deer at a distance of approximately 400 to 600 yards, he spotted two magnificent male deer shortly afterwards. Constructing a makeshift shelter on the hillside using a pair of cedar trees that overlooked a canyon, he deviated from his regular location when he ventured out that day.
He mentioned, “Last year appeared to experience a delayed rut, for some unknown reason. Typically, the peak of November occurs at the end of the first week. However, this year it was at least 10 days later.”
Although he didn’t have the desire to move ponderously, the cutting distance was still tempting. A handsome 10-pointer began dogging the doe, coming out from the far cedars and into the scrub. When the tired chase of the doe came to an end, her boyfriend, who was standing guard within the scrub, left and began browsing the open area.
As Gary observed, with an itchy trigger finger, the deer abruptly spun around and swiftly ran in the opposite direction.
He stated, “I couldn’t comprehend why it sprinted. The female deer had not startled, and there was no possible manner in which it could perceive or detect my presence.”
Gary, who was accustomed to bad luck, decided to take the bird in his hand that week. Earlier, he fancied shooting a 10-pointer, which was a much dandier buck, and raised his head to check out the newcomer. However, before squeezing the trigger, he glimpsed more deer legs above his scope and put the crosshairs on the doe feeding. Finally, he eased his WSM .270 to his shoulder.
“It all happened so quickly, I didn’t have time to get nervous. I’d already used that up on the 10-pointer,” Gary said. “Plus, I saw only the right side of the deer’s rack. I really didn’t have a clue that it was so big.”
Gary’s firearm discharged a 150-grain ballistic tip towards the male deer as it entered the open space, standing 220 yards away.
“The buck hit the ground instantly,” he said. “And when it raised its head, I popped it again … For insurance’s sake.
Added he,” done be and, too,’ you shoot just I’ll ‘I thought, shots both throughout there stood she. Moved never doe the.”
As Gary neared the deer, he realized it was much larger than he had envisioned.
He said, “I saw that antler when my knees got weak.” Finally, after 200 inches, I marked the broken one in Missouri and regularly hunted in Iowa and Kansas. After some odd years, around 40, I knew what to look for.
His best buck prior to that was a 178-incher. He’d also taken several in the 150s and a couple in the 160s.
Gary loaded both bucks onto his ATV and brought them back to the camp.
Upon awakening the following morning to gusting winds that brought a wind chill factor of 10 degrees below zero, he felt relieved that he was not situated on one of those slopes. In addition, he had completely overlooked the presence of misfortune.
Editor’s Note: Interested in reading more stories about the world’s most magnificent whitetails? Subscribe to Rack magazine by dialing 1-800-240-3337.
Hunter: Gary FearsBTR Official Score: 206 4/8BTR Composite Score: 227 1/8Weapon: Modern RifleCategory: Semi-Ir