Reflections on My Boone & Crockett Class Archery Buck

Reflections on My Boone & Crockett Class Archery Buck

By Aaron McKinney

Growing up with a profound love for the great outdoors, I had always felt a deep connection to nature. From fishing the many ponds, lakes, and rivers Iowa has to offer, to hunting the quiet woods for large and small game. I was most happy and comfortable outside. Yet, although I was quickly becoming an experienced fisherman and hunter with sharp woodsmanship skills, I began to want to try every aspect of hunting, something that would challenge me in new ways. That’s when bowhunting entered my life, transforming my passion of hunting into an addiction for all things archery.

A New Chapter
It was the beginning of a new chapter in my outdoor pursuits, as a close friend encouraged me to get a bow and shoot it a few times. I became proficient with the bow, proficient in a novice sense, but I felt confident that I could arrow a buck if I ever had the opportunity. Armed with my trusty PSA Fireflight bow, I ventured into the woods with a mix of excitement and apprehension. This wasn’t just another hunting season; it was a leap into uncharted territory, a test of skill and patience unlike any I had faced before.

As I stepped into the timber on that first hunt, the air was alive with anticipation. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. With bow in hand, I moved with stealth and precision to my treestand. I was in the stand, and it was early November. At that time, I hadn’t hunted the rut, and I had a lot to learn about the magic those first few days of November.

I was patiently waiting, for a deer, and then I saw him. His antlers reaching towards the sky and I knew he was one I wanted to shoot. When the buck got about 30 yards away, I drew back my bow, my heart pounding in my chest. I released the arrow, and as the arrow soared through the air, time seemed to stand still, until finally, it found its mark. But it wasn’t the clean shot I had hoped for. Instead, a branch in the way of my shooting lane threw off the flight of the arrow. The arrow struck the buck’s neck, a mistake that would haunt me in the hours to come.

When Things Don’t Go As Planned
They say that every hunter learns from their mistakes, and that day, I learned a lesson I would never forget. I went and got my friend, Troy Johnson, and as we tracked the wounded buck through thick brush and winding ravines, I felt a mix of frustration and determination. Hours passed and we diligently followed the trail, never giving up hope despite the odds. We tracked him for several hours through some of the thickest timber southern Iowa has. Just about an hour before dark, we lost the trail and called the search off. I don’t think I can find the words to describe how disappointed I was, and only someone that has been in a similar situation can understand the frustration.

A Second Chance
The next day, defeated, I returned to the woods, my resolve was deeply shaken by the challenges of the previous hunt. Troy and I had stomped all over my hunting area, sweating and searching for the buck. So why did I think it was a good idea to return to the same stand where I had stuck the buck less than 24 hours ago? As these thoughts were running through my head, I heard the unmistakable sound of a buck’s growl. From my stand, I watched a doe emerge on a trail headed towards my tree. Following closely by was a magnificent buck. It took me a few minutes to realize it, but the buck from the previous day was hot on the trail of the doe.

She came about five yards from the base of my treestand.

This time, I didn’t hesitate. Drawing my bow with steady hands, I took aim and let fly. The arrow found its mark with deadly accuracy, striking the buck’s heart and bringing him crashing down a short distance later. When I walked up to the buck, my first arrow was broken off in the buck’s neck, and eight inches of arrow stuck out from him. It was a moment of triumph and redemption, a second chance at a trophy buck. I had the buck officially measured, scored and submitted in the record books. With deductions, the buck ended up netting 177 1/8 inches of antler.

Since then, I would embark on many more hunts. As I look back on my first year as a bowhunter, hunting a trophy buck, I am filled with gratitude for the experiences that have shaped me into the person I am today. Though bowhunting, I have found not just a hobby, but a way of life.