Masen Stears

I’d gone out so many times during archery season that I lost count, and I never saw a decent buck. I kept hoping something big would show up, but it never did.

Then this week, we checked the game cameras and found a picture of a huge 8-point buck we’d never seen before. A traveling buck. My heart about jumped out of my chest when he showed me.

That evening, right before dark, Grandpa and I went out to our spot on the family farm. It was quiet. The kind of quiet where every little sound feels important. I was starting to think I’d be going home empty-handed again when I saw movement by the brush line.

There he was. The same big 8-point from the camera, stepping out like he owned the place. He began walking right towards us. I waited until he turned broadside. I took a deep breath, aimed, and pulled the trigger before Grandpa had time to tell me to shoot him.

The buck dropped.

I looked at Grandpa, and he was grinning ear to ear. When we walked up to the deer, I couldn’t believe how big he was. It was the biggest buck I’ve ever shot, and I still can’t stop smiling about it.