Gavin Jones

This is a hunt we’ll be talking about for the rest of our lives.

We’d been after a buck we named Freak Nasty ever since our first encounter back in early October. From that moment on, he became the deer that kept us up at night—showing up just enough to tease us, but never enough to figure out his pattern. We tried everything, but he always seemed one step ahead.

Bow season came and went, and opening day of gun season didn’t give us much hope. We sat all day and didn’t see a thing. But Sunday night changed everything.

I was in the blind with my son, Gavin, when Freak Nasty stepped out—just before the end of legal shooting light. He hugged the back fence line, refusing to come any closer. It was now or never. The last time I ranged him, he was 167 yards out.

Gavin settled in, stayed calm, and made one heck of a shot. Absolutely perfect. We watched that giant buck take his last breath, and in that moment the emotions hit hard—relief, excitement, pride, gratitude… all of it.

Huge thank-you to the property owner for letting us hunt your farm. Moments like this don’t happen without people like you.

This hunt, this buck, and this memory with my son—it’ll stay with us forever.