The Brooksby buck

Columbian Whitetail habitat in Oakland, Oregon

Where to begin? This hunt was different than any other hunt I've really been on. Why, you ask? Because unlike most hunts, this one started months and months prior to opening day. I'll explain. This hunt was movie-like with multiple characters popping-up at different times in the movie; some roles were obviously more important than others with "Brooksby" playing the lead role.

Some of the other characters in this movie include Papi (the dumb half-brother with a coat the color of paprika), Funk ( a buck with nuthin but funk shooting from his head), Ol' Wide, Crown (a buck who's main beams nearly touch at the tips), Dr. Hook, Spike (small on antlers, big on appetite), the Back Forty Brothers, the cattle (damn cows), the flock of hens, the kids posing for my cameras (damn kids),  amongst others.


Papi



Kids just tend to be attracted to technology, including trail cameras

I gotta say, If I'd moved away from Douglas County, Oregon without hunting the Columbian Whitetail before leaving it would've been a crying shame since it is the only place with a huntable population of these guys. It was only a dozen years ago that the whitetail subspecies was in trouble but due to some good conservation efforts by sportsmen and ODFW, their numbers strengthened to the point where they needed to be managed through hunting. I decided this year was as good as any to put in for the early season archery hunt and give it a try. It helps when some neighborly neighbors (10 minutes from home) give you the nod to hunt their ground...which screams whitetails.

A selfie of Spike. I never said he was the prettiest deer.

Dr. Hook

One of many critters that ran in front of my cameras over the summer

Lights! Camera! Action!

The first time I laid eyes on Brooksby was June 20th. Before I'd ever seen him, I had already had a couple of months worth of trail cameras strategically soaking up any and all motion on the property--so I thought--with hopes of patterning a behemoth buck to the point that I would learn his daily schedule better than he knew it himself.

The first hitch I ran into was the cattle on the property. I couldn't put an apple anywhere without a momma cow tearing things up...so I put up some electric wire to protect the feed from bovines. That fixed the cow issue but it didn't bring in any big bucks. It wasn't till I moved a camera to a part of the property that is more remote and out of the way that I got my first picture of Brooksby. It was about that time, cattle were moved off of the property.

First trail cam pic of Brooksby

Instantly I was enamored by the girth of this dude. Yea, I know that sounds a bit weird but his main beams looked like Lousville Sluggers protruding from his head! I put some apples out in hopes to get a pattern on this buck. He found the apples a few days later and our relationship began...

 

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I was becoming obsessed. I thought about the buck all day long. I dreamt about having him within bow range oblivious of my presence. I constantly thought about what I could do at the moment to increase my chances in killing this buck once the season began. I snuck into his haunt every other day week after week bringing another 80 pounds of apples and to check the latest pictures of my personal star. Brooksby, along with a dozen other deer had really took a liking to the fresh apples that I spent all my free time gathering from underneath every neighbor's and friend's apple tree. I could have fed an African village for 3 months with the amount of fruit I harvested.

As the weeks went by his antlers grew. I learned that Brooksby wasn't attention-starved, in fact, he disliked other deer around. I believe it's plainly big buck mentality: hanging around other inexperienced, uncautious deer makes you more vulnerable. Does and their spotted fawns would visit regularly as would a couple of other bucks including Spike, Papi, and Funk. It was a month before season and the time had come to put a ground blind within 30 yards of the site. This made me a tad nervous as I've never hunted out of a ground blind and a bait site. I didn't know how the deer would react to a foreign tent staring at them while they fed. Anxiously, I checked the camera after a two day soak with the tent in place. There seemed to be almost no behavioral effect, the deer welcomed the tent as long as the fresh apples kept a comin'.

Occassionaly I could even get one of the kids or Emily to make a hike out with me although they knew I was using them for their strong backs to pack apples.

Roo helped set up the first blind

Packing apples

Hunter helping set up a cow-proof site

As August rolled around Brooksby was a frequent visitor to the site; however, as big bucks do his behavior began to change. He frequented the site much less until two weeks before the hunt he went MIA. I responded by packing twice as many apples...which just rotted away. I then set-up a second blind near where I had seen some other bucks I had watched several times on the opposite side of the property...kind of as a back-up plan.

My last trail cam picture of Brooksby

Suddenly, after months of preparation and work with bait, cameras, cattle, and patterning different deer, opening morning had arrived and Brooksby had given me the slip!  It was a strange emotion as I gripped my bow instead of my trail camera and a bag of apples. For weeks, I'd planned on sitting in one of the two erected ground blinds and wait for the buck to come to me. Now, I was looking to go after him!  Looking back now, I was relieved that my strategy had changed as Brooksby's pattern had changed. I would start my hunt perched atop a hillside with my binoculars locating deer and then put the stalk on them. That's what I enjoy doing.

Sitting in a ground blind for long periods of time can be brutal...

I had a pretty eventful opening  morning finding multiple smaller bucks and does but nothing I was ready to go after. My second blind had been seeing some deer action on the cam from two different bucks I was a bit fond of: Ol Wide and Crown. I had first seen these two bucks together on a July evening while traipsing around with Emily.  "I'd shoot either one of those if given the chance!" I vowed.  I decided to sit in the second blind during the late morning mostly to stay dry as the rain started to come down...the first rainstorm we've seen in months.


Ol' wide

Crown

An hour or two had passed and there was a lull in the rain so I stepped out of my blind for some fresh air and to renew my sanity. After sitting...and thinking...and sitting a few hours I realized I really wasn't ready to shoot any other buck yet this early in the season. So I began working my way towards Brooksby's haunt when I immediately spied Crown and Wide a mere 150 yards away feeding on blackberries. I turned away from them and headed east towards where maybe Brooksby would be. I was just gaining some elevation to glass when I saw a big-bodied deer leaving "The Hawthorns".  "The Hawthorns" is a two acre patch of thorny hell. If you attempt going in, you may not make it out.

I quickly put the glasses up in the light mist and recognized Brooksby's massive antlers immediately. Behind him was "Funk" ad thy were headed towards the blackberry knoll. I have the wind in my favor, now if I could only seee where they'll bed, my mind raced. Brooksby, in smart buck fashion,  disappeared into the maze of blackberries while Funk spent more time up and feeding on the ripe berries. Younger, more foolish bucks have been the death to many old wise bucks as they tend to loaf around longer making the entire herd more vulnerable and visible.

Funk finally disappeared as well. I left my boots a quarter mile back and in the soaked grass I eased forward as quite as a meadow vole. My senses on full-alert, soaked to the hips, and my arrow knocked and ready. I recognized the last location I had spotted Funk and decided I would back-trail them which is often risky as a big buck will usually watch his. I had no other choice. The walls of blackberries made a pattern much like a corn maze, full of trails and dead-ends. I was looking for the prize at the end of the maze.



Funk

When I didn't expect it, Funk (that bastard) jumped up 5 yards from where I'd last seen him which was a mere 3 yards from the tip of my arrow. My reaction was to pull back my bow hoping Brooksby was nearby. This was the first time our eyes met and I won't forget the expression on Brooksby's face when he realized I had stepped out in the only exit route as he was surrounded by walls of blackberries. Without a nanosecond of thought, he threw himself into the matrix of vines directly away from me and plowed through as if he had a carbon blade on his chest. It happened so quick my reaction was to shoot but I had forgotten to use my peep site and I missed by 3 inches.

I zipped around the maze to look for his escape route and found a trail of scattered vines, berries, and leaves in his wake down the trail! His antlers were fully-velveted before he dove into the blackberries. I smirked at the thought that that is one way to strip your velvet off! I have never seen a deer make such a bold move. At that moment I decided I would hunt at least the next 3-4 days just for Brooksby.

The following morning I had the pleasure to have good friend Brady Smith tag along with me to help spot. The rain from the day before had left a heavy veil of fog over the place so spotting was worthless. I snuck into the second blind for a few hours while the fog worked it's way out of the valley. As the fog cleared, we had spotted a buck or two bedded and we were almost convinced it was time to head back to the house to drop off Brady, when he made a spot on a deer moving out from the center of the property. The sunlight hit the cherry-red antlers and we immediately knew "Brooksby"!! He had peeled his velvet and was on the move.

Waitin for the fog to leave so I could start glassing

A couple smaller bucks decided they would  follow his lead, but Brooksby wasn't going to be brought down by a Judas...by a lesser buck....by the inexperience of those that didn't know better. He turned on them and chased them the opposite direction and then turned back the direction he was going and sprinted. My heart sunk as he put his chest up against the neighboring property and jumped the fence running deep into forbidden ground.

I returned that evening with wool socks and a hopeful heart. I stayed put where he jumped the fence earlier that morning and as the sun set, I spotted two exceptional bucks (I'd never seen before!). Dare I say they were bigger than Brooksby? I think so, at least their tine length, They didn't carry anywhere near the mass. I named them the "Back Forty" because of their location. Right at dark, Brooksby walked out of some cover on the adjacent poperty with a look of paranoia. He knew he had been followed and he was definitely on edge. It got dark on me so I snuck back out of there with the plan on being back in the same area around first light.

Brady was able to spend the first few hours with me again the next morning. He perched on a ridgetop with binos and spotting scope as I worked my way back to where I was the night before. Shortly after I found The Back Forties and they were big! I struggled. I thought I would kill one of those if given the chance however I was still stuck on hunting thhe buck I've gotten to know so well.

It was worth a try. I wool-socked into the Back Forties bedding ground. I had watched them heading that direction just minutes before...I paused for a moment and the thermals shifted slightly. A snort and a crash through the bushes 10 yards below confirmed I had gotten too close. One of the bucks stopped and looked my direction at 40 yards (so I thought), I pulled back and released a steel prayer into the thick blackberries that shielded the bucks vitals in hopes that I could thread the needle. It ended up being 50 yards.  The buck blew out of there untouched and much smarter. Sigh....at least I found a nice dragonfly to take a picture of while looking for my arrow.

I worked my way back towards Brady as the sun warmed the morning air. He had an eventful morning as Wide, Crown, and an unknown buck Brady named "Wide's bigger brother" fed 50 yards from him. Neither of us had seen Brooksby all day. I wondered if he found a new home for a while, on the other side of the fence.

"Ol wides older brother" spooted by Brady at 50 yards

Brady was busy watching a group of bucks as I worked my across the property. I was surprised by a doe which stood up 30 yards from me from within the oak shadows that lined the west side of the creek. I paused in mid-stride. I wasn't that interested as it is common to jump a doe. I hoped she would just slink out quietly and without gaining too much attention. My heart stopped when I saw a deer behind her stand up and packing a whole lot of antler atop his head. "Brooksby?!!? Damn you, what are you doing down here?" He was certain there was danger nearby but hadn't pinpointed my location. I ranged him for 70 yards, a bit too far to shoot at such an animal.

He escaped his way into another thicket. Once again, the boots come off and after notifying Brady that I had found him again I begin my sneak. "He's gotta be around this thicket somewhere..." my heart was beating inside my throat. It was too thick and a mere 5 yards from me he exploded once again. He snorted and wheezed. He stopped at a crossroad and paced not knowing which way to go. He was upset, frustrated, probably shocked that wherever he went this ugly, smelly, bi-pedal predator seemed to be on his tail!

He finally broke into a run with a snort; a run to free himself from my presence. Eventually he j-hooked back into "The Hawthorns". His refuge. His one place he can go and know that no one will follow. It was time to take Brady home, get a bite to eat, and sneak into my original blind that laid at the bottom of The Hawthorns. The site where I had first seen Brooksby as well as captured a hundred photos of him through the summer. Would this be where it would all end?

I slowly unzipped my blind and stepped inside. This was my first time sitting in this blind on the hunt. I questioned if it was worth sitting and waiting, or get on a vantage point and glass from a distance since Brooksby may have either already bailed or has become more nocturnal. tick tock..tick tock..tick tock.. My body and mind were uncomfortable, surrounded in this blind. The sun was just flirting with the western horizon when some does came to investigate the apple inventory. The sun is always brightest right before disappearing and it was at that moment that Brooksby appeared from thin air 70 yards  from my blind. The sunlight was blinding on his now bleached-white massive antlers. He fed on the blackberries and seemed to be more attentive to his surroundings than ever.

yea, I know it's hard to see, but that is Brooksby when he left the Hawthorns. (slightly right of center of picture)

What is he going to do? Will he come down and find his old, apple stash? He hasn't been in front of the camera for two weeks! He isn't going to come down this way! He is going to head uphill ! How am I going to get out of this blind with deer 20 yards in front of me!  Brooksby lifted his head and indicated by his behavior that he'd be feeding directly away from me. Game on! I slipped my wool socks on, took a deep breath, and slowly unzipped the blind. There was a steady north wind that helped muffle sounds. I didn't even want to make eye contact with the closer deer, so I sprinted away from the scene as quiet as a bounding cottontail. I ran around the backside of The Hawthorns and worked into the wind.

If everything worked out right Brooksby would be 60-80 yards directly below me from my new position. The problem is nothing seems to work out right with my luck and this buck. I glassed an empty draw of blackberries. I had suspicioned maybe he had already gone up and above me so I headed up in pursuit. The further up I went, the more doubt I had that he had gotten up that far already so I turned and went back to my original plan. I slowly started walking down the draw back where I'd last seen him when for the last time ever Brooksby stood up in front of me.

I drew my bow back. Dang-it, I should've ranged the distance first! It's 30 yards...but then my left hand lowered my bow placing the 20 yards pin behind the shoulder. My mind screamed 30 yards and my hands estimated 20 yards. My hand won releasing the arrow. My mind screamed "35 yards!"as I quickly nocked another arrow. My first arrow flew right under the armpit! Brooksby jumped and looked my direction as I settled my 40 pin behind the shoulder just as he began to move. The arrow impact sounded like a hammer slamming into a crystal vase. The shot looked perfect.

Mortally wounded, Brooksby bolted around a soft ridge with me hot on his heels. I topped over just in time to spy his antlers on the back side of some blackberries some 50 yards below me. He darted off again, but it was only a matter of time and we both knew it.  He only made it another 60 yards before falling to the ground one last time.

Emily and the kids came out that night, and under the moonlight we snapped pictures and watched the falling stars. Emily and the girls went home early (10:00) as the next day was the first day of school, while Hunter chose to stay with me to skin, cape, quarter, and pack Brooksby back to the pick-up. I really enjoy my son's company on those long night's packing out.

"That was a short hunt!", "It only took three days?", some friends commented. "Yah, I guess it was", I laugh in response. According to my trail cameras I made 46 visits to the Brooksby's place before I was able to put an arrow in the buck that I ate, slept, breathed, and lived for during the past few months. The day was a long time coming...and ohhh is it bitter sweet.