Well, here is the backstory: I've been bowhunting for almost 30 years. I've killed several bucks that I am very proud of, but never one that would top the magic 125" mark. Don't get me wrong, its not all about the score, but the last several years, I have been more focused on trying to kill mature deer. My biggest deer to date was 130" rifle kill about 5 years ago, but my biggest archery deer was still a 118", very old six point. My wife has killed two 140" deer with her rifle in the last six years on our Frio county lease, a 149" brute 9 point, and a 141" 13 point deer last year. I am very proud that I have a wife that loves to hunt, and that she has had the opportunity to take these awesome deer, but come on honey.......can't you let me in on the big buck action??? 
So we rolled into town Saturday afternoon, got squared away and headed to the lease. We checked several cameras and although there were a few nice deer on camera, nothing recent enough for me to focus on at the feeders. So I just started hunting my favorite spots, hoping to get lucky. Other than a few does and a small spike, it was pretty uneventful. Sunday morning, Steph, (MrsTxbownut) saw what she said was a big deer crossing a road about 80 yards from her box blind, but it was too early to get a good look at it. That afternoon, we went to the stands early, and not wanting to ride the tripod till dark, I sat with her for a little while in the same box blind. At straight up 3 o'clock, a large 9 point with a kicker walks out on the same trail she had seen him on that morning, headed in the opposite direction. He stopped to eat a little corn in the road, long enough for me to get a good look at him. I quickly figured him at around 135", and at least 4 years old, but probably 5. I actually reached for the .270 in the corner, and then remembered......I'm a freakin' bowhunter! This is where my loving wife says "you've got until Tuesday afternoon (we planned to leave Wednesday at noon) to kill him, and then he's mine". Thanks honey......I think.
After the deer left, I got busy moving a tripod to hunt him. He is not a regular feeder visitor, so he would have to be killed on his terms. I quickly put up a 7 foot tripod about 30 yards downwind from the crossing and trimmed a few mesquite branches to create a shooting lane. Not the perfect set up for a fat boy, but it would have to do. I left the spot alone that evening, opting to be there early on Monday to hunt him. I got in the stand at least 20 minutes before first light, with a trail of magic hand corn leading up the road. About 45 minutes in, I heard the unmistakeable popping of corn and could see legs coming down the road through the mesquite. Heart rate up! Does!!! Three of them! Well, here would be the test to see if my hidey hole would work. They ate corn for about 20 minutes from 15 to 30 yards. Definitely a good feeling to know that you fooled the crazy does....until one walks up to within 10 yards, and realizes that something large has taken up residence in that mesquite. Hunt over! With a swirling wind that afternoon, I opted for another stand so I didn't burn "the spot" any worse.
Tuesday morning, I repeated the steps from Monday....in early, hand corn, sit perfectly still. Shortly after first light, about 40 yards behind me, I hear something walking in the brush. Dangit!, it's downwind! Yep, she blew, but only once, and then she calmly walked off. Confidence slightly shaken, I continued to sit and hope. That's when I saw tines through the brush, about 35 yards out, in the road. First thought was a small buck, and then he raised his head.... It was him, the big nine. It took him forever to move another 5 yards, but he was only about two more steps from where I could kill him! Thats when he raised his head, and sensed something, and walked back into the brush to my left. He gone! An agonizing 20 minutes passed and I heard corn popping again, heart rate back to max! Doe! Heart rate back down. I can barely see her raise her head occasionally to look down the road. Then I see another set of legs under the brush. It's him, he came back! This time, it only took a few minutes to close the gap to my shooting lane. I draw as slowly as I possibly can at 30 yards, and at 28, I lean out from behind my mesquite hide and put my 30 yard pin low on his shoulder. He's slightly quartering to, but he's unaware, and I am very confident. I squeeze, he drops slightly and rolls towards me. As he leaves, there is still about a third of the arrow sticking out, angling back towards me at a pretty steep angle, despite me being only seven feet off the ground. Wow! No passthrough? Now I am a little concerned, but it looked like at least one lung and possibly heart. I saw him running through the brush for about 60 yards and then I lost him, but I thought I heard him fall. After about 10 minutes, I climbed down quietly and slipped away down wind to give him some time. I walked (skipped) the 500 yards to where Steph was hunting. There is something about that adrenaline rush that I can't explain, but those of you that have been there understand. I shook, I laughed, I cried, and I thanked the Good Lord above for the opportunity. We gave him a full 90 minutes after the shot before slipping back in. I found where he spun at the shot and followed his tracks to the edge of the road. There was the first drop of crimson, then another. As I slowly walked the trail, it got heavier, and his tracks stumbled more. At 84 yards from the shot, lay my biggest buck to date, 143 inches and some change. I can't thank my wife enough for sharing this sport with me, and finally letting me shoot one!
So we rolled into town Saturday afternoon, got squared away and headed to the lease. We checked several cameras and although there were a few nice deer on camera, nothing recent enough for me to focus on at the feeders. So I just started hunting my favorite spots, hoping to get lucky. Other than a few does and a small spike, it was pretty uneventful. Sunday morning, Steph, (MrsTxbownut) saw what she said was a big deer crossing a road about 80 yards from her box blind, but it was too early to get a good look at it. That afternoon, we went to the stands early, and not wanting to ride the tripod till dark, I sat with her for a little while in the same box blind. At straight up 3 o'clock, a large 9 point with a kicker walks out on the same trail she had seen him on that morning, headed in the opposite direction. He stopped to eat a little corn in the road, long enough for me to get a good look at him. I quickly figured him at around 135", and at least 4 years old, but probably 5. I actually reached for the .270 in the corner, and then remembered......I'm a freakin' bowhunter! This is where my loving wife says "you've got until Tuesday afternoon (we planned to leave Wednesday at noon) to kill him, and then he's mine". Thanks honey......I think.
After the deer left, I got busy moving a tripod to hunt him. He is not a regular feeder visitor, so he would have to be killed on his terms. I quickly put up a 7 foot tripod about 30 yards downwind from the crossing and trimmed a few mesquite branches to create a shooting lane. Not the perfect set up for a fat boy, but it would have to do. I left the spot alone that evening, opting to be there early on Monday to hunt him. I got in the stand at least 20 minutes before first light, with a trail of magic hand corn leading up the road. About 45 minutes in, I heard the unmistakeable popping of corn and could see legs coming down the road through the mesquite. Heart rate up! Does!!! Three of them! Well, here would be the test to see if my hidey hole would work. They ate corn for about 20 minutes from 15 to 30 yards. Definitely a good feeling to know that you fooled the crazy does....until one walks up to within 10 yards, and realizes that something large has taken up residence in that mesquite. Hunt over! With a swirling wind that afternoon, I opted for another stand so I didn't burn "the spot" any worse. Tuesday morning, I repeated the steps from Monday....in early, hand corn, sit perfectly still. Shortly after first light, about 40 yards behind me, I hear something walking in the brush. Dangit!, it's downwind! Yep, she blew, but only once, and then she calmly walked off. Confidence slightly shaken, I continued to sit and hope. That's when I saw tines through the brush, about 35 yards out, in the road. First thought was a small buck, and then he raised his head.... It was him, the big nine. It took him forever to move another 5 yards, but he was only about two more steps from where I could kill him! Thats when he raised his head, and sensed something, and walked back into the brush to my left. He gone! An agonizing 20 minutes passed and I heard corn popping again, heart rate back to max! Doe! Heart rate back down. I can barely see her raise her head occasionally to look down the road. Then I see another set of legs under the brush. It's him, he came back! This time, it only took a few minutes to close the gap to my shooting lane. I draw as slowly as I possibly can at 30 yards, and at 28, I lean out from behind my mesquite hide and put my 30 yard pin low on his shoulder. He's slightly quartering to, but he's unaware, and I am very confident. I squeeze, he drops slightly and rolls towards me. As he leaves, there is still about a third of the arrow sticking out, angling back towards me at a pretty steep angle, despite me being only seven feet off the ground. Wow! No passthrough? Now I am a little concerned, but it looked like at least one lung and possibly heart. I saw him running through the brush for about 60 yards and then I lost him, but I thought I heard him fall. After about 10 minutes, I climbed down quietly and slipped away down wind to give him some time. I walked (skipped) the 500 yards to where Steph was hunting. There is something about that adrenaline rush that I can't explain, but those of you that have been there understand. I shook, I laughed, I cried, and I thanked the Good Lord above for the opportunity. We gave him a full 90 minutes after the shot before slipping back in. I found where he spun at the shot and followed his tracks to the edge of the road. There was the first drop of crimson, then another. As I slowly walked the trail, it got heavier, and his tracks stumbled more. At 84 yards from the shot, lay my biggest buck to date, 143 inches and some change. I can't thank my wife enough for sharing this sport with me, and finally letting me shoot one!
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