The rut was in full swing, and bucks were busy chasing does. With a front-row seat to the action, three bucks had whipped themselves into a frenzy chasing a hot doe. The action was insane as the deer chased through the forest. They would head over a ridge in one direction, only to appear back in my direction from a different draw. The ruckus of activity worked to my advantage by attracting a big mature Canadian whitetail that I had hunted all season. The old buck had heard the commotion and knew exactly what was happening.
The big boy interrupted the party and took over the chase, and the younger bucks scurried to get out of the way. Tall antlers reached skyward, and I had to control myself from getting buck fever. The doe led the old buck right past my stand at 35 yards, and when he stopped to look back down a trail, I leveled my crosshair on his vitals. My Traditions muzzleloader broke the silence, and the buck crashed off through the trees like a bulldozer.
Everything about the deer was huge. The body was immense, and its neck was swollen from working trees
