After shooting my first buck in 2008, I felt that I was a seasoned professional. I soon learned different.
Hunting is truly something that requires time, skill, and most of all, dedication. You see, the thing about hunting is the amount of time that you have to commit to succeeding. I soon realized that shooting my first whitetail buck on the second day out was not something that happens very often, and that some hunters go years without filling their tags. Not that they aren’t great hunters just that many hunters are very selective in what they will shoot.

My 2009 hunting season came and went. And with no buck shot, the story about my “mega” second buck wasn’t to be.

The 2010 hunting season was much better for our family. My husband and guide, Grant, was not only successful in filling his whitetail tag, but he also helped our son get his “first” buck. I on the other hand, put in many hours in the blind, rattling (watch out for the brow tines), bleating, and yes, praying that a nice buck would give me a chance.

How could one month go by so fast? I spent every free minute I had hunting with no luck.

On the second last day of the 2010 rifle season, I got the kids off to school and headed to my hunting blind. I took along a video camera with the intent of making a hunting show while waiting for a wall-hanger buck to make an appearance. I made sure I whispered to the camera and filmed at different times throughout the day, updating my progress, or lack of it, as prime time drew closer. I had just finished an excellent round of rattling (watch out for the brow tines) and bleating when a buck stepped out of the bush at 30 yards. Perfect! This is what I had been sitting all day for and now I had my chance.

The buck began to slowly move into the field; I grunted and stopped him for a better look. Good idea, right! Too bad that my binoculars had frozen up and all I was seeing was a somewhat foggy version of a nice buck. Now, something happened since my first buck; I became a rack hunter and there was no way I was shooting a small buck. I was going to shoot a big buck and that’s all there was to it!

This being the case, picking up my gun and looking though the scope that had been covered and ready to go all day would have been the better choice. You see, there is only so much moving you can do in a blind with a buck stopped at 35 yards before he runs away. Off he went, flag up and all. I was so disappointed, what the heck! I had waited all day for a nice buck and when the chance presented itself, I messed around trying to field score the darn thing. I guess this is why I always take a guide.

Although I had sat for 6 1/2 hours that day, not all was lost—the entertainment my family and friends got out of my one shot as a hunting celebrity has been great.
This brings us to the 2011 rifle season and I was drawn for mule deer. I cannot tell you how happy I was to be able to head out hunting again.

After my husband helped a good friend on a successful bighorn sheep hunt, he was ready to focus on guiding me to my mule deer.

He had scouted the area ahead of time and had received permission from different landowners. We headed out the first morning in search of a nice 4x5 buck that he had seen on several occasions. This was going to be easy; we know right where to find him.

We did locate the buck the first morning out when he jumped out of his bed after winding us and hopped away in mule deer fashion—no shoulder checking for him. Disappointed to say the least, we headed over to confirm permission with another farmer.

The farmer at the next place told us about one of his fields that had at least 20 does in it every night. Well, this sounded promising so we went over to the field to setup our ground blind and wait. Sure enough, that evening, just as if a light switch had been turned on, 26 does, fawns and a couple of little bucks came out into the field. Even though a big buck never made an appearance, it was neat to watch. This is part of why I love hunting.

We headed back to the same spot the next night, only setting up our blind in a different location and once again the show began. The does would come out of the woods to the fence, check the field and move in. There were no bucks in the group on this night but once again, the enjoyment of just watching the does and fawns was great. In fact, we had to wait for them to move on so that we could leave the blind without spooking them.

Grant had to go to his real day job so that left me without a guide and I wasn’t going without him. Two days later, it was time to try again. Grant was getting off work early so I drove out to meet him at our hunting area. We setup our blind in the same field, only changing the blind position a little this time, as we knew for sure where the deer were coming out.

As we waited for prime time, I secretly rubbed my lucky feather and hoped that this would be the night. The does came to the fence that evening but seemed reluctant to enter the field. After what seemed like forever, three does finally entered the field and began grazing, but they seemed more on edge. They kept checking to the north like there was something there. My husband pointed his binoculars to the north to see what the does were nervous about.

“Get ready,” he said. Okay, I thought, just let me look though my new non-frozen binoculars and see what’s coming.

“No!” he said. “Just get your gun and get ready. This is a good one.”

I got my gun up and rested it on my shooting sticks, looked down the scope and saw exactly nothing. This is not good, why can’t I see him too? Don’t panic, I thought.

I looked back at Grant and saw where he had his binoculars pointed and moved myself over slightly so that I was aiming the exact same direction he was. This time when I looked down my scope, I saw him. However, I did not focus on his antlers but on finding the “sweet spot”. I squeezed the trigger and I saw the buck sit back. Holy cow! I had done it!

“Again,” Grant said. I shot once more and he went down. I reloaded, looked down the scope, and there he was heading for the fence, so I shot again. Over the fence he went.

Oh, man! How did that happen? I shot him and I know I hit him, didn’t I?

Shaking, I looked at Grant and asked two very important questions. “Did I get him?” and, “Was he really big?”

“Yes,” was his answer to both questions.

Andrea’s mule deer buck scored an impressive 194 4/8” gross. For just her second deer, this giant is definitely one to be proud of.

Leaving the blind, we went in search of my buck. From across the field we heard a truck approaching and stopped to talk to the driver. It was the landowner and he had come to see what the shooting was all about. We filled him in and he offered to help us look for the buck. I have to admit, I was not sure where the deer had gone over the fence, so the search began.

After only five minutes of looking, which seemed like forever, I heard Mr. Farmer say, “Your buck is over here Andrea! I found him.”

Not even five feet from the fence, just inside the bush, was my buck. I rushed right over, excited to see my mulie buck and what a beautiful buck he was. Mr. Farmer, at 74-years young, stuck around to help us drag him out, field dress him, and even load him into the truck. Thankfully, this buck had no ground shrinkage at all! Unlike my first buck, I know there will be no teasing on his size. He scored as a non-typical 194 4/8-inches gross, and 189 3/8-inches net. I am happy to say that this year I will have a taxidermy bill. ■

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