GO DEEP!

I didn’t cut my whitetail teeth early in my bowhunting career. Living in the heart of the West, I figured my time would be better served chasing elk, mule deer and pronghorn. Plus, I wasn’t super keen to the idea of hanging 20 feet up a tree.

I figured one day I’d go, kill a mature buck and call it good. I stayed up on my education, reading every piece of whitetail literature I could get my hands on. I learned about hunting scrapes, setting up on waterways, the significance of a good rub line — of scents and masking scents — of avoiding bumping a mature buck from his bed.

My first trip to the Midwest was to Illinois. I was hunting the famed Richardson Farms. It was November, and from what our guides told us, the rut was rocking. It must have been. The next morning, after spending two hours in a treestand, a descent 8-point buck worked a scrape 13 yards below my stand. My Rage-tipped Easton was true, and the buck expired quickly. I was hooked.

Since that time, my obsession with the white-tailed deer