Growing up in Northern Oklahoma, I had more of my share of outdoor adventures as a teenager. Probably more than I should have documented by my report card. I moved away from Oklahoma for employment about six years ago and sort of forgot about all the great adventures I had there as a kid. In September of this year, I was on the phone with my mother talking about the upcoming Kansas deer season and how great it was looking when she said,"I wish you would come home and hunt like you used to". She even said "I'll wake you up at 4am if you want". I told her I'd think about it and let her know if I can find time away from work. A couple days later, I called my mother and told her to double line the trash cans I'm coming in a couple weekends. My mother used to put two trash can liners in when I was a teenager due to my Copenhagen habit and spitting in trashcans. Everytime I go home, I tell her this even though my beloved copenhagen isn't a part of my life anymore.
When packing for my big expedition, I found myself packing playpens,diapers,hairdryers,tampons, and anything else that might keep my wife and son going for a weekend. I kept thinking, I've never been on a hunt that was this excessive in equipment. Upon arriving in Oklahoma, My mother greeted us in the usual fasion, with food and we spent the evening around the wood burning stove telling stories and looking at photo albums. I elected not to hunt in the morning due to the time we got in the previous evening and my wife said she agreed she didn't want to be woken up at 4:45 to me digging around the house.
I left the house the next day at around 2pm headed for the public hunting ground that surrounds the lake where I grew up. I was going over in my head where I should go and ended up having a verbal argument with myself due to the lack of scouting I'd been able to do. I finally decided I would go to the spot where I had harvested my first whitetail with a bow when I was sixteen. I arrived at the spot and the lay of the land all came back to me. I walked the two hundred yards back into the woods near a small pond with a beaver dam. Even though the woods looked quite different, I could still make out the tree that I had shot my first deer out of. The tree was now dead and leaning quite harshly over the pond so I found a tree right next to it and attached my climber.
I'd been sitting there about an hour and a half, when I heard something in the creek by the beaver dam. I looked and about fell out of my tree. It was a nice ten pointer headed right for my shooting lane. The buck stopped and rubbed a little tree while he checked the wind. After about ten minutes, the buck made his way to my lane and stepped out at 22 yards. I drew anchored, picked a spot and sent the arrow on the way. I didn't hear the arrow hit or see any indications that I had even come close to the deer. He ran about thirty yards and stopped. while he was standing there I found him in my binoculars and noticed a little dark spot right behind the bucks shoulder. The buck simply tipped over as somebody turned his switch off. I had to look at him about three or four times to make sure that what had just happened was for real.
I could barely make it down the tree due to my shaking legs and excitement. I walked over to the place where the buck stood at my shot and found my blood soaked arrow sticking out of the ground as if it were a flag waving for achievement. I walked over to the buck and admired this animal that I had spent so much time chasing when I was younger. I had spent a great amount of time in this same block of public hunting ground and never had caught a glimpse of a deer half this big.
Upon arriving home, the whole family came out to greet me and my newest collection to my storyline. I've hunted all over chasing the whitetail but there's no place like home. Sorry about the pickup pics, that's all I took.