Where I deer hunt, S&S Hunt club, the deer in the area do not move in the morning. I don't know why, it's just what they do. My buddy Scott, who owns the property I hunt on, has been hunting it for quite a few years now. He knows that the best time to go sit in his tree stand on a hillside, looking over a clover and turnip green plot, is after 3 PM. "Your really just wasting your time to go any earlier." he says. It does seem to be true. I've been in there at daybreak and might get lucky to see a turkey or two.

Two days after Thanksgiving in 2005, Scott and I decided to go still-hunting in the same area. For a Saturday it was pretty quiet. No dogs were trailing, no trucks were running up and down the roads. We got to plot around 3 PM and decided to spread out to cover the swamp side of the hardwoods and the ridge top, above the plot. Scott headed to the swamp and I stayed above the ridge, near an old logging road that connected to the plot.

No sooner than Scott had walked towards his stand, a nice turkey gobbler came walking out from some pines that were to the left of me. He was about 25 yards and had a nice 8 - 9 inch beard but I couldn't shoot because Scott had just walked from the same place. The turkey turned around, after seeing me and walked quickly away, back into the pines.

I sat down next to a couple of pine trees and then it hit me. Natures calls! It wasn't the feeling of " oh, my god, here it comes !" It was, "I’m going back to the house." I had time. I slipped across the plot and made my way hastily back to the house, a few hundred yards away.

Before I got into the yard, I unloaded my shotgun and put the three shells in my pocket. As I walked through the door, I took the shells out of the holders on the front of my Liberty camo bib overalls so they would not fall out when I shed my bibs off. I laid the shells on the kitchen counter as I headed towards the bathroom for nature's call.

When all was done, I grabbed up my gun and headed back outside. Walking down the path to the hunting area, I reloaded the gun with the three shells that I had put in my pocket. As I walked across the plot, I peeked down the hillside and could see Scott's blaze orange hat. I veered to my left and was crossing the food plot when I heard a noise and glimpse of white ahead of me. I saw movement and the white got more prominent. It was a deer and I was seeing his antlers.

He came toward me then took off running at an angle at the edge of the old logging road and pines. I threw up my gun and started shooting at a monster of a buck, broadside, less than 40 yards. I unloaded on him. I thought I put it on him but he started walking away as he entered a gulley and went up the other side. He stooped and turned his head toward me. I reached for the shells on my chest to reload. DAMMITT !!! I LEFT MY SHELLS ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER!

The deer walked a few steps and then fell behind a log. I stood there as I Scott came walking up and asked, "Did you get him?" "I think so, but I don't have any more shells !" I said. "Where are all your shells"? He asked. "I went to the house, cause I had to go the bathroom and left them on the #$*&% counte !" He laughed. I said "Look, he fell over there! If he gets up, shoot him!"

We slowly walked over to him. He was dead. He had a huge rack with 9 points and a 24"outside spread. He was never weighed, but he was a big bodied deer in full rut. I might have done some back flips, I don't remember, but this was the type of buck I had wanted to bag all of my life. As luck would have it, I got back into the woods that afternoon just in time.