Iowa Buck of Exceptional Size Taken by Bowhunter on Public Ground Despite the Odds

I was torn between the decision of whether or not to forgo an evening meditation session. At that point, the duration of the season had been extensive, with Thanksgiving approaching and my relatives paying a visit. Additionally, the absence of my three young daughters, all below the age of eight, had left me yearning for their presence as much as they yearned for mine. Just as I was contemplating this predicament, almost as if he could perceive my internal struggle, my brother-in-law, a cherished comrade since long before I entered into matrimony with his sister, reached out to me after my morning hunting excursion. In a motivating manner, he urged me to persist and end the day on a resolute note. The unpredictability of the late rut was a constant reminder he provided. In response, I decided to head toward a secluded area of public land, located approximately an hour away from Des Moines. This particular spot was characterized by its extended shape, bordered by vast agricultural fields. From a ridge, narrow valleys descended to the fields below. Five years ago, I had strategically positioned cameras here, successfully capturing striking photographs of magnificent bucks. Nevertheless, my reliance on cameras quickly diminished as they consistently let me down, failing to capture any pictures or provide visuals of elusive bucks during my hunting expeditions. Nonetheless, there existed a particular tree on the estate that captivated my interest, and I had retained its precise location in my smartphone. Situated at the terminus of an extensive ridge where the landscape transitioned from oak-populated areas to dense brush and pine trees, I couldn’t help but speculate that this spot could be perfect for the late rut season, offering the opportunity to intercept a buck in transit as it moved towards or away from a bedding location.

On the final Saturday of bow season, I anticipated a bustling parking area, only to my amazement, there were no vehicles in sight. However, the scattered Hot Hands wrappers scattered around indicated that the area had seen heavy activity during the rut. I encountered a couple of tree stands and a fabricated imitation of a scrap, followed by an oak tree displaying a Shoot-n-See target on my way in.

I am what you might refer to as a hang-and-hunt enthusiast. Employing a saddle and climbing implements, I perch myself upon a pre-selected tree or one that the deer’s tracks lead me to. Iowa lacks an extensive amount of public land and what little is available tends to be compact and subject to high hunting activity. Nevertheless, I strive to accommodate this by pursuing my passion in the middle of the week whenever possible. Additionally, I am immensely grateful for my understanding partner, who permits me the opportunity to embark on these expeditions.

In the realm of hunting, I have achieved moderate success in capturing respectable deer. However, more often than not, I find myself capturing a plethora of female deer, failing to fully utilize my buck tag or settling for an immature specimen. With this mindset firmly in place, I embarked on my expedition last Saturday. Although I lacked prior knowledge of the terrain, it was the tail end of the mating season for deer, and as my brother-in-law constantly reminds me, anything is possible. Perseverance shall prevail.

As soon as I found comfort in my surroundings, a commotion echoed from the lower slopes. Observing the abundance of squirrels during my approach, I instinctively shifted my gaze towards the nearby tree in anticipation of a squirrel sighting. Surprisingly, it was not a squirrel that came into view, but rather, the impressive right antler of a majestic buck peeking from behind a towering pine tree. Instantly, I recognized the deer before me as the perfect target for my shot. I swiftly snatched my bow in hand, eager to engage my release mechanism. However, an exhilarating surge of adrenaline began coursing through my veins, setting my body on an involuntary tremble. To my dismay, I discovered that my D-loop was positioned in the wrong direction upon the bowstring. Utterly perplexed, I struggled to comprehend the correct way to attach my release. Eventually, I resorted to clutching the loop with my fingertips, deftly rotating it back into its proper alignment, and securely fastening my release in place.

As my eyes locked onto the single-pin sight, my mind calculated the distance. With each step, he moved from left to right, seemingly unaware of my presence. His gaze fixated downwards, searching for something with great intensity. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was in pursuit of a desirable doe, exhausted from a long chase, or simply making his way back to the safety of his dwelling. The reasons remained unknown to me. Nevertheless, I aimed my pin directly at his vital area, fully aware of his rapid pace.

Within the blink of an eye, my nerves skyrocketed. Swiftly emerging on the opposite end, I managed to baahp him once again, yet his relentless movement persisted. Realizing that my only chance was to take the shot while he was in motion, I recognized it was an aspect I rarely practiced. Looking back, clarity revealed that I should have continued my fluid motion, yet I halted my bow and released, striking him with a high and slightly off-target hit.

He sprinted away, putting a distance of approximately 20 yards between us before glancing back in my direction. In the expansive wooded area, he stood at a visible 40-yard distance, his position granting me a perfect angle for a clean shot. Temptation almost coerced me into attempting another arrow, yet fear filled me as I envisioned the possibility of him detecting my slightest movement and hastily departing. Therefore, I remained completely immobile, and to my astonishment, he resumed his trot. It seemed as though I observed a slight stumble, however, uncertainty plagued my thoughts. Was it a genuine falter or merely a figment of my desire-induced imagination? He strolled an additional 50 yards or so before vanishing from sight.

My mind was filled with a flurry of different thoughts. In what manner should I exit to avoid colliding with him? How should I approach the situation when I return tomorrow? What amount of snowfall can I expect tonight?

After placing a phone call to my brother-in-law, I realized it was around 2:30 p.m. at the time of the incident. Assuming my brother-in-law hadn’t reached his designated spot yet, I eagerly waited for his response. As the call connected, I excitedly informed him that I had just taken down the largest deer I had ever laid eyes on. It was evident by the way the buck appeared while walking away that he was of immense size.

I believe I have just successfully captured a magnificent 200-inch creature, I insisted, conveying with certainty, It appears that he possesses a remarkable set of antlers with fourteen distinct points.

Immediately, I realized the absurdity of my words, yet it was exactly what escaped my lips. I proceeded to guide him through the details of my shot. Considering everything I told him, he believed it was best for me to remain in my position until nightfall, in hopes of locating my arrow. To aid in my search, I employed my binoculars to meticulously scan the terrain. The sight of my arrow, adorned with red markings on its white fletching, registered in my vision, and I am fairly confident that I indeed spotted it.

As I peered through my binocular, I noticed a faint trace of blood marking the path. Simultaneously, a prolonged and echoing grunt reached my ears. It dawned upon me that an additional person engaged in hunting could be concealed somewhere amidst the woods, perhaps even occupying the stand that I had previously crossed.

As the hour stretched on endlessly, a gripping sensation of unease seized hold of me while snowflakes danced through the air. In a desperate attempt to calm my racing thoughts, I reached out to my brother-in-law via text message, seeking reassurance in venturing out of my perch to search for my misplaced arrow.

Maintain your stealth like a ninja and resist any whims to pursue him, he suggested.

Once more, I diligently swept my gaze across the dense woodland. On this occasion, a glimmer of hope flickered in my mind as I discerned what appeared to be a fragment of a robust antler. Alas, it resided 150 yards distant, obscured by a labyrinth of timber, rendering verification impossible. Determined, I ingeniously perched myself upon the minuscule foot platform, peering intently beneath a cluster of branches. Suddenly, my eyes fixated on a hind leg poised in an awkward angle, challenging the notion that the creature was at rest.

To be honest, I must confess that I experienced a moment of complete breakdown while being perched up in the tree stand. It wasn’t a sudden outburst of screams, rather it was an uncontrollable stream of tears. The intensity of the situation was beyond comprehension; finding the appropriate words to articulate the experience feels impossible.

Once again, I dialed my brother-in-law’s number and he promptly assured me that he would make his way to my location without any delay. While waiting for his arrival, I managed to lower myself to a position where I could ascertain that the buck had been successfully taken down. Without wasting any time, I approached the fallen animal, affixed the necessary tag onto it, and completed the process of electronically checking it in. Following this, I simply settled myself beside the creature and took a moment to gaze at its presence.

I am a devout believer, and I expressed deep gratitude to the Almighty for the chance bestowed upon me, a chance that I believed was not inherently merited or gained. The enormity of the opportunity left me in a state of overwhelming humility, as I patiently remained seated until my brother-in-law arrived. Suddenly, he energetically rushed towards me, embracing me in a tackle. We celebrated our triumph with various gestures of excitement; from high-fives to fist-bumps. The joyous outburst ensued only after he assured me that no other individual was occupying the hunting stand situated atop the ridge.

It turned into quite the show. All of my closest friends who enjoy hunting were eager to witness it. It was a rare occurrence in our hunting adventures, with everyone excited to be involved – not just for my sake, but also for the opportunity to witness an extraordinary animal firsthand, rather than simply on display on a wall or through a screen.

I nonchalantly informed him that his score had become completely inconsequential to me.

Indeed, he replied, his curiosity piqued. However, my desire for knowledge persists.

As my brother-in-law took the measurements, I diligently recorded the dimensions on my phone. A sudden burst of laughter escaped me as it dawned on me that the figure was surpassing the 200-inch mark. The thought that immediately crossed my mind was simply, Oh dear me. Astonishingly, my brother-in-law obtained a rough overall score of 211-7/8. Later, a friend came by and independently measured him at 210-4/8, completely unaware of the previous score.

I had often fantasized about hunting down a magnificent 160-inch deer. However, the pinnacle of my hunting achievements came at the age of 18 when I successfully bagged a stunning 10-point buck. This extraordinary creature boasted an impressive antler span of 167 inches. Additionally, I have had the privilege of capturing a few deer with antlers measuring around 150 inches. Nevertheless, more often than not, I find myself targeting deer of the 130-class or taking aim at doe as I fulfill my tag requirements. Admittedly, I have had my fair share of missed opportunities with some enormous deer. And as I released my arrow in this particular instance, a fleeting thought crossed my mind – perhaps this was destined to be one of those rare encounters that I would never witness again.

During the process of field dressing, I made the astonishing discovery that I had managed to strike merely one lung without harming any other vital organs, yet his entire chest cavity was ceaselessly bleeding. Fate seemed to be on my side—or rather, some divine intervention bestowed its blessings upon me—on numerous occasions: firstly, I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to take a shot at that deer, secondly, I successfully retrieved him, and lastly, he happened to be of an extraordinary size.

In my past, I engaged in a hobby of taxidermy on a part-time basis. Occasionally, even now, I continue to assist friends or family by mounting a deer or two every year. The current situation has led me to contemplate personally undertaking the task of mounting this particular deer. However, I find myself facing a dilemma regarding the usage of the cape. The deer in question has peculiarly lost hair from both its shoulders, leaving me uncertain as to whether it experienced habitat conditions in a swampy environment or suffered from hair loss due to intense fighting.

I am amazed by the sheer size and proportions of him. The right side that I caught sight of as he approached exudes an abundance of typical points branching off from the elongated main beam, leaving me dumbfounded. It is truly unbelievable, something I never anticipated witnessing, especially from a deer making its way through the forest towards me. Furthermore, his tine length is mind-boggling. His second, third, and fourth points are exceptionally long, and on top of that, he bears a unique sticker-like protrusion resembling a hook on his left G-2.

The astonishing aspect about him that constantly astounds me is his status as a prominent seven-pointer with an impressive set of antlers. None of his prongs are lacking in length; in fact, I have come across eight-pointers with shorter tines than his final point. It’s genuinely difficult for me to fathom the existence of such a remarkable deer, let alone the fortunate opportunity of encountering him.