Reader-Submitted Story
Lady Luck
by Curtis Reil of Sherwood Park, Alberta
My love and desire for hunting the big bush started at the tail end of the glory years in 2007. That was my first foray into hunting completely away from farmland and to say the least, I was smitten with it.
In 2008, after passing many bucks, I was able to harvest a beautiful 173” buck at 25 yards that came to my sequence. If I wasn’t hooked before, I sure was then; as my maniacal, wild man hoots echoed through the forest.
The year 2023 had graced me with 26 days off in November. Upon pulling trail camera cards, this buck greeted my eyes on two cameras and he was to be my focus. Despite having a number of really good bucks sort of located, I really liked him.
Despite my best efforts, I came up short on finding or getting any other images of him. I ended up switching gears and hunted a different buck the last six days or so but, no bueno.
Fast forward to 2024. Once again, the bulk of the month was to be mine. This buck was captured on a few different cameras and I realized, this was the same buck from the previous year. Nothing regular by any means but, sometimes all you get is knowing they are alive and roaming a greater area type of thing.
Enough foreplay. Yesterday found me in a stand I had set up the day before. I had sat all day and intentions were the same today. I had passed on a nice buck the day before in a completely different area; and five days before, I had passed on a buck I believe would have gone around 174”.
Anyway, I had pulled a cell camera from a spot that wasn’t producing much and wanted to get it up and monitoring. I had noted a good looking deer trail about 400 yards from where I was to be perched so, up the camera went. Within an hour of being up, I had a daylight pic of a buck, then a doe, and another buck that first day. Not bad.
Yesterday morning, I hadn’t been in the tree for 20 minutes and I got pictures of a doe, then a 6x6 with forked G2s that would go low to mid-170s. Over the next three hours, another three bucks are in front of the camera.
“Okay, as much faith as I have in where you are perched being The Spot, obviously something is happening there and 400 yards away is where you need to be.”
I quickly gather my items up and descend from the stand. Picking my way over to the camera. Yes! Sign abounds and I need to try to make something happen. Visibility is not my friend. It’ll be some rattling and hope anything that comes finishes close.
I start slinking in, being as quiet as I can. I had just taken pause and selected a rattle location. A stump to be my hide and, I have about 40 yards max as a window to shoot. The wind is good for this play. I take one more step... right next to me, I hear a deer stand up and it grunts in doing so. Looking left, I can see the outline of a deer not more than 15 yards from me. I know it’s a buck but, what does he look like? I start to lower myself to change the angle to see his antlers and he busts. I see a big frame swing with his head but, in one leap, he is out of sight. What a racket he made tearing through all the thicket.
Sad with a lost opportunity, I realize that all the noise was in fact made by a big buck and I’m about to rattle. I crash the antlers and do my sequence. Settle down and be quiet. Five to seven minutes into my hush, I’m sure I hear an antler drag on a branch. Up comes the rifle. I hear it again. Then I hear a grunt and in walks a beautiful non-typical that we had decided not to shoot as he looks to be very young. He’s a 145” to 150” 5x5 with split G2 and G3s, base points and a 9” to 10” flyer off his left main beam that has two extra points on it. He’s 30 yards away and no clue I’m there. That flyer was absolutely ruining me in that moment.
“Oh God! We said we were not shooting this deer if he shows. I want to shoot this deer. He’s so cool. Snap out of this! “We are not shooting him!”
I slowly lower the rifle. He gives a grunt, licks his nose, flicks his tail, and moves away from me on the same line of travel I had intended. I think this could be good. Any deer on the downwind side will probably smell him moving through. When I move up and rattle again, this may really help sell my ruse.
I give the buck 10 minutes to move away and ponder what has just transpired.
“In 20 minutes, you were 15 yards from a big unknown and rattled in a super cool non-typical only minutes later. That’s wild!”
I begin my slither. The wind has picked up a touch but, direction is still okay. I’m not going to move very far before I rattle again. I’ve gone another 300 yards tops and like what I see. Downwind is a snarl that a weasel would have to pick his way through. No deer will be going through this. There’s about a two-foot hump on the edge of a small island of Dogwood, choke and gooseberry and some willow—it isn’t much but it is precious elevation and I’m well hidden. Anything that shows will have to do so upwind or from the blind side of my hide. I spray a bunch of doe pee all over my island in the event that if the wind gives a little switch or something, it may help cover me.
I crack the antlers, set them down, and get quiet. It’s been maybe two minutes and I swear I hear an antler drag on a branch but, it’s close, like really close. I’m straining my ears and I can hear sniffing. Not like when a dog takes little sniffs of your ear... deep breathing.
“Holy crap! Whatever deer this is, he’s right on the other side of my island!”
I ever so slowly get my .35 Whelen shouldered. I can still hear the deep breathing... I have to do something. I turn my head so my mouth is completely opposite of where the deer is and give a single grunt with my mouth. I immediately hear footsteps coming around my island. I’m ready with the rifle. I catch a glimpse of tine tips above the island.
“He’s tall, stay ready.”
I see a nose, then rack, neck, shoulder and ribs. He is all bristled up, ears laid flat and looks enormous at the whopping distance of eight yards and comes to a stop, staring holes through me.
“Is that him? I think it’s him. Gotta’ be him. Why haven’t you shot yet! SHOOT! SHOOT!”
Honestly, in that moment, I didn’t care if it was him or not. A big buck rattled right into my lap—you’re done bud.
BOOM! I knew I absolutely hammered him with the 225-grain Sierra when the trigger broke. It rocked him and he quaked. A big spray of blood shot out the exit and to my surprise, he turned a bit and took two lunges forward. “WHAT! I BLEW HIS HEART OUT! KEEP SHOOTING!”
BOOM! I watched his whole side ripple as the second round blew through both his lungs and nearly knocked him down. He crashed into a small birch cluster, breaking several of the branches that I’m sure were the only reason he was able to keep his feet. Still standing, I wasn’t messing around. I knew he was dead on his feet but, I wanted this over and now. BOOM! I watched him go flat and his last breath rise up out of the grass.
Maniacal wild man cries once more echoed through the forest of northern Alberta. A pretty serious adrenaline dump happened at this point. I’m generally pretty good at staying calm but I guess I was really jacked up and got pretty excited for a few moments.
“Seriously? Did that just happen? Are you ever going to have anything like this happen again? Three bucks in 45 minutes! What deer did you just shoot? It doesn’t matter. This was incredible! Go look at him!”
The three shots had been fired in not much more than five seconds. Maybe less, I don’t know—it was fast!
I covered the 25 yards or so to where he lay and couldn’t believe what was at my feet. The buck I hunted all last year, and who was my target in the area this year is mine forever.
I made a couple calls to share my elation. One, being to my older Cousin who in all honesty, introduced me to this and lit the match—the bucks stoked the fire. The next to my very good friend who I’ve teamed up with in pursuits of these bush bucks. I could not do this hunt annually, as we have been without his contribution of time and quite literally, letting me move into his home for a month. Words will never do justice to the thanks I owe him.
He had a body like a steer and it took some doing to get him loaded onto my quad. I had forgotten my calf sled at home and really missed it. Suffice to say, I won’t be doing that again.
I put a tape on him last night before getting into the spirits and I was a very happy camper. Even with the kicker he had broken off of his right G2, he goes 183 3/4” with nearly 42” of mass. We figured he would go high 180s and maybe even crest 190 so we weren’t far off—not broken, he would have been 188” to 189”. A new personal best for myself by quite a lot and, I did it in exactly the fashion as I’d intended. I could not be any happier.
If you’ve stayed with me this long, I hope you have enjoyed my recounting and that I’ve done the experience justice.
Best of luck to anyone still hard at it. Lady Luck may grace you with her presence too.
For the previous Reader Story, click here.
