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Walter Scott: The big buck

Walter Scott is an outdoors enthusiast and freelance writer from Drakesville, Iowa.

Columnist Walter Scott

For years, the first weekend of December has been reserved for my son, Damon, my grandson, Zane, and I to go hunting. I had threatened to take a cup of coffee, sit on the porch, and shoot the deer out of the lawn, but Zane keeps us honest.

The first drive on Saturday morning is always through the Paintball Timber pushing deer toward the corner of the hayfield. Before we trusted Zane to hunt alone, he and I would stand together and blast away as Damon pushed the deer toward us. It was always a good place to stand and he and I took many deer there. There was always a large number of deer that would not cooperate and go out at the top of the hill rather than come by the corner.

This year, we decided to hunt it differently. Zane would walk the timber, Damon would stand at the top of the hill, and I would have the sweet spot at the corner.

I was at my spot, thinking back over the years that Zane and I stood there together, just a little kid with a big gun. It is strange that I can remember the deer he got more than my own. I saw movement at the edge of the timber and saw a fawn running toward me. I readied, knowing something was more than likely following it. I held on the place the fawn exited and a mature buck came running out at full speed. Before he could see me, I dropped him in his tracks. I heard a shot from inside the timber, so I knew Zane was about halfway through. A couple of minutes later, two bucks came running down the hill along the edge of the trees. I quickly checked the antler size and got the larger one.

When Zane finally exited the woods, the three of us went to check on what we had. Zane had missed a doe in the timber, Damon had seen nothing but fawns, and I had two nice bucks for the freezer. Among the three of us, we had three buck tags and several doe tags. In the first hour of the first day of season, I had filled two of the three buck tags. I was warned, if I shot another buck, it had better be a world record.


We hunted a couple more places on the farm and filled most of the doe tags. I did pass on several nice bucks before we stopped for lunch. Damon and I were ready to call it a season, but Zane wanted one more drive. We relented and decided he should take the corner of the hayfield while his dad and I walked the Paintball Timber.

Two does jumped up as soon as I stepped into the timber. They ran up the hill angling toward Damon. I pulled up but thought if he needed another deer, he could have at it. It was about that time I remembered I did not have a shell in the chamber. It is a good thing I was not wanting to shoot them.

We were about halfway through the timber when we heard a single shot from the direction Zane was standing. A few deer ran ahead of me and circled back toward Damon. We both let them pass, anxious to see what Zane had. I could see the smile on his face from across the pasture when I came out of the timber. He got the big one.

We have watched this deer on camera for two years. Last year, Zane found his shed antlers. This year, he got him. The old buck was apparently past his prime as the antlers this year are not as large as the sheds from last year, but he is still a heck of a trophy.

Walter Scott big buck.jpg
The first weekend of December is reserved for deer hunting. This year, grandson Zane got the big one. Submitted image

Walter Scott is an outdoors enthusiast and freelance writer from Drakesville, Iowa.
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