Jason H

LONG EMOTIONAL STORY: Saw this buck 2x last year in bow season. He was wounded by 2 other bow hunters, but was a warrior and survived. On, Nov 17 last year my grandma passed away and to clear my mind I wanted to go hunting. This buck was locked down with a doe on my property so I told the wife I was going to shoot him bc of his wounds. The only rifle I had was my grandmas 308 (my other two were at my moms where I left them after receiving the call of her taking a turn for the worse in the afternoon of Nov 15) This was fitting to me though on this day, it would work out. Well within a minute of sitting down this buck came out grunting and presented over an hour of footage and pictures, but I couldn’t pull the trigger. Tears built up as I felt her next to me and literally sat there crying, smiling, and talking; watching deer all night long. I felt she was hunting with me and killing him would end our hunt. If he made it another year, our hunt would continue and he would have a legit droptine if he survived. Nov 24 I got my last picture of him walking off the property. Nobody claimed to kill or see the deer after so I was bummed to not know what happened to him. Fast forward to mid October of this year in the middle of the night, there he was, perfectly posing for my first picture or intel on him in 11 months. The “last chapter” began. I studied maps, talked to many neighbors gathering intel, lost sleep, drove around, constantly watched cameras, mapped out pics and interactions from last year, did everything I could to figure him out. Had a few encounters during bow season, but he always knew something was up, and refused to ever present shots. Always staying in the thickest area possible, scanning. I hunted hard, but smart. A few evenings we watched him from the house knowing I couldn’t reach any stand without spooking him as it’s only 5 acres. A few mornings I watched him with does, but played it super safe and didn’t want to blow him out. Some people say he taunted me, knowing the story wouldn’t end with my bow, but with a rifle, my grandmas 308 to be exact. On the 13th he locked a doe down in the woods, I hunted from 10- dark and he again came to 30yds, but never leaving the cover to enter any of the food plots til after dark. The 14th, I accepted the story, almost for the first time in a month, feeling a calmness come over me. No longer did I feel pressure to kill this magnificent animal, but almost felt like I was meant to. I typically don’t rifle hunt here bc of the small acreage, but until I knew he was dead I couldn’t leave either. On the evening of Nov 15 2025, almost a year later, with my grandmas gun, my story with “drop” finally ended. It’s been almost a week now, and replaying the hunt in my head, looking at pics, and seeing him I continue to get emotional. I don’t think most people hunting this once in a lifetime buck would ever understand what it meant to me. I feel so lucky and blessed to harvest an animal like this. My family and a few select people know how crazy this deer drove me, how much of my life was consumed and driven to harvest him. At the end of the day, hunting is just as much luck as anything, especially on 5 acres. However, the time I spent trying to understand this deer was ridiculous. Thank you to my wife, daughters, family, and Gracen for the support. They saw the struggle, the lack of sleep, the pressure, the excitement, the every emotion high and low in this pursuit. Drop was and is a once in a lifetime buck for most people, but to me, he was the ending to my story. A world record buck would not mean anything to me, bc this buck is more than a world record in my eyes. I don’t know if hunting will ever be the same, as the emotions behind this buck was something so powerful to me I can’t explain. Hunting is so much more than the harvest, it’s the stories created that always mean the most. Good luck to all for the rest of season. Write those stories and create those memories as that’s what hunting should be about.