A thread about north east Texas prompted me to share this story. Just one of those many core memories made out in the field.

I think it was 2008 or 2009. I had a rugby tournament in Nacogdoches (Rugby fest) and it was the first time I was going to introduce my gf, now my wife, to my parents. They were hunting at a family friends ranch just outside Henderson and they made the trip to watch me play a couple matches that Saturday. The next day, instead of heading back to San Marcos, we headed to Henderson so I could show her around the ranch and watch the Cowboys game.

We get in about an hour before the game, stop by camp to say hello, grabbed my dads truck and his 243 (we had drove her Jetta there) and started the tour. We get down to this road that parallels a large creek bottom that splits 2 large hay pastures that has a bridge connecting them. We get about a hundred yards from the bridge and jump up a buck that hightails it across the creek and into the opposite pasture.

Without a word, I grab the 243, jump out of the truck and hoof it to the bridge. Huffing and puffing, I get across the bridge, spot him just before he is about pass over a ridge and out of sight. He had stopped running but was a good bit out there. I had shot the majority of my deer up until then with that gun so I was very comfortable with it. Using a tree as a rest, I put the cross hairs right at the top of his shoulder. Boom. I remember seeing a flash of white but he was out of sight once I composed myself so I start mentally preparing myself for a tracking job.

Realizing my gf was probably wondering WTH just happened, I book it back to the truck, tell her the story, and we drive over towards to the direction the buck was heading when I shot. I assumed he kept going in the same direction and hopped the fence back into the thick wall of East TX pines. I can't find any blood, or even any tracks or sign where he could have crossed. I went from really excited to really not - we head back to camp and tell them I need some help finding this deer.

So we all load back up and head back towards the bridge. As soon as we cross it, a beautiful, dark, heavy horned main frame 10 just sitting out in the middle of the pasture with a doe, less than a hundred yards away. My dad could have shot him but didn't because we still had a buck to recover and didnt want to overstep.

Once the deer finally moved on, we proceeded up the pasture to the ridge where I told him he was when I shot. The owner is in his truck ahead of me, following my tire tracks from just a little earlier. He gets to the top of the ridge and he sticks his arm out the his window and gives an exciting thumbs up.

The buck had dropped right where I shot him and I almost ran him over driving over when I went to look for him the first time. Just drove right past him, assuming he ran for the fence line. We ranged the tree I had shot from and it was just shy of 400 yds.

Lots of smiles and high fives after that, I even got him back to camp and cleaned up in time to make the second half of the game!

Great Story! What did the gf think of you bailing on her for the buck?

And thanks for sharing. I only thought those of us hunting at night could lose critters that dropped in place.

Excellent effort on the recovery.