Like many of you, my eagerness for targeting mature “Northwoods” whitetail bucks has grown tremendously over the past several years. Although I have always had an unwavering passion for whitetail hunting, growing up hunting farmland deer in the Bertha-Hewitt area since 1998, though I still hunt there from time to time, the challenge of tracking down these tough, free-roaming deer in the North has me captivated. These elusive animals are like an entirely different breed of bucks altogether. 

OUR HUNT STARTS WELL BEFORE SEASON 

In 2021, my season started off with spending hours upon hours driving around and utilizing the OnX app scouting and searching for prime areas, followed by days upon days rotating game cameras and looking for suitable deer sign. I put on an immeasurable number of miles both by foot and wheeler to locate consistent activity and sightings leading me to discover at least four different “target bucks” I was set on to hunt. I felt as if I was ready to set up. Not too long after, however, I was presented with some significant challenges. 

A few weeks prior to opening day, I noticed the first wolf on camera. Not unusual for our area, of course, but I soon started to witness far more wolves than deer. Over the course of the next couple of weeks, it became evident the growing pack had moved into the area I was hunting and therefore, had pushed the deer elsewhere. Now, because everything had changed, it was time to go back to the drawing board and formulate a new plan of action. With a new plan, new setup, and a newly regained confidence, I was ready once again. 

IT WAS A TOUGH START 

The opener had finally rolled around and I began opening weekend just like I have all the years prior, chugging coffee and full of excitement. The forecast was calling for much warmer temps than I had hoped for. I quickly opted out of my late-season gear, thankful I had washed and prepped my Sitka Stratus System just in case as it made for a much more comfortable sit in the seemingly balmy temps. The weekend came and passed with me only seeing a few does and fawns, not to mention countless numbers of chattering and scurrying red squirrels. By the end of that second day, I had learned that two of my target bucks had been shot by nearby hunters. Though somewhat disappointed, I was quick to offer my congratulations and express my happiness for them for such incredible harvests. 

Day three arrived, and some new hunters had moved into one of the areas I was hunting. I respectfully decided not to go in, after all, it is public land and there for all of us to enjoy. There goes target buck number three. I was down to one area, and one “hit-list” buck left. And from the most recent photo of him on camera featuring a broad daylight close-up of him, he was our number one! I still maintained a small shred of hope. This was a very promising area, with tall pines, poplars, and maples, high ridges on both sides which acted as a funnel, butted up against a vast spruce bog. Not to mention a plethora of hot does around to keep him well-occupied. I staged in that area for four days only seeing does and one small buck. 

TIME TO GET SOMETHING IN THE FREEZER 

On the second weekend of season and not having tagged a deer yet, I decided to take our three-year-old son, Finn, down with me to farm country. We saw several deer and finally managed to harvest some meat for the freezer. Finn was happy to enjoy some time in the stand with me, although I don’t think he realizes that I probably enjoyed it more. Finn and I returned home late that Sunday night and spent the following two days completing a few unfinished tasks. It was Wednesday morning when I finally was able to hit the stand again. 

I decided to go back to the “funnel area.” It was clear all the does were still around, but there was no new “buck sign.” He hadn’t been back to check his line, no new scrapes, not even a track. My frustration grew and I had a feeling of angst as I was wondering where he may have gone, and wondered even more as to what should I do next. The cooler weather had finally set in and we had a fresh blanket of snow so I decided it was time to get my boots on the ground in search of some fresh sign, or just anything at this point. After walking in the timber for about three miles, I stumbled into an old blowdown area covered with thick swamp grass. Here I noticed a massive bedding area full of fresh deer beds, fresh scrapes, and the overwhelming (and quite unpleasant) fragrance of deer urine. This was it! I hurried back to the truck and raced home to grab one of my portable stands. I returned a short while later, well before prime time, and managed to get the stand up with little disruption and noise. I was determined to hunt over this bedroom that evening. 

THERE HE WAS…THEN GONE! 

As I got situated in the stand for that afternoon, I really wasn’t expecting much, but the wind was in my favor at least. Not long after I caught a glimpse of a large-bodied deer through a clearing in the tall pines about 100 yards away. Just a glimpse was all I caught; no shot was provided as I watched this deer disappear. All I was thinking was “Crap! That was my chance!” After all, I knew very little about this buck, and this was an entirely new area to me. As my adrenaline ceased, my frustration turned to understanding and further appreciation. As a hunter, you do not find glory solely in the harvest, but more so in the pursuit. You gain a deep appreciation and sense of gratitude for God’s beautiful creation that surrounds you and realize these animals have become rather worthy adversaries in this unending game of wits and tactics. And with each play and counterpart, our knowledge continues to grow. 

THE BIG BOY IN ALL HIS GLORY 

As I sat there and reflected on these matters, a doe came running out from the direction that buck had walked in. No more than 10 minutes later, he came out, hot on her trail. I raised my rifle and gave a short grunt in an effort to stop him. It was plain to see, though, his focus was on that doe. There was no stopping him. I followed his steady trot refusing to let this opportunity pass me by. Luckily, to my good fortune, he made a quick move that presented me with a perfect broadside shot. I squeezed the trigger on my Ruger 7mm, and heard the bark of the rifle echo through the pines.

He then stumbled before collapsing to the ground. The stars had seemed to align in my favor, and I became flooded with emotion as I realized I had dropped “The Big Boy.” All the impediments leading up to this point had vanished. 

I climbed down from the stand and admired my trophy. I realized quickly the real work was about to begin as I contemplated just how exactly I was going to get him out. I could have quartered and packed him out, though wearing full gear and knowing we would be losing light soon I knew I would not be able to get the whole deer in one haul. With wolves running heavy in the territory I didn’t want to take my chances on leaving anything behind. Not to mention, we utilize the whole carcass. My mouth began to water as I started to think about Traeger smoked venison ribs and my wife Alice’s homemade stew from bone broth. To say the drag of this beast was pure agony would be an understatement as I drug him up the valley ridge all by myself to the nearest trail. But, I still smiled with every step, grunt, and back-breaking tug the whole way out. 

WHAT IT REALLY COMES DOWN TO… 

This hunt reminded me that effort, dedication, and perseverance will ultimately pay off. Never give up, even when everything seems to be an uphill battle, and you have lost all shred of hope. After all, you can’t expect accolades from little effort. Give it your all and keep grinding. The harder you work for something the more you will appreciate the reward. 

As I think back to the 2021 late season, and every season since, I reflect on a quote by the late, great Fred Bear, “A downed animal is most certainly the object of a hunting trip, but it becomes an anticlimax when compared to the many other pleasures of the hunt.”

Few truer words have been written.