ARTICLES
The 11-Acre Buck
by Mike Schaefer

It was opening day of bow season here in Alabama. As so often happens it fell in the middle of the week. I could find no one who wanted to take off from work and accompany me down to Shorter, Alabama where the world famous Calebee Hunting club is located. I have been a member of this club for four years now. Shorter is located in the Alabama Black Belt county of Macon.

I loaded my gear and determined to be on my stand a half hour before sunrise opening day. I had planted a small field with Biologic Full Draw in late August on a small section of Club land adjacent to the North Swamp called the Eleven Acre. It had come up well but now looked as though it had been neatly mowed to about a half inch in length! There is a large White Oak tree in the center of the field and it was presenting a good acorn drop for an added bonus. I was confident that I was going to have a good day. I hung my Grand Vision in a tall Sweet Gum tree on the edge of the field with a small, thin hickory between where I anticipated the deer would enter the field and me. I figured this would help break up my outline.

At 5:15 A.M. I settled comfortably in my stand. By 7:30 with nothing moving but squirrels and chipmunks that old demon, Boredom, began to take hold. I put my Martin Jaguar in the holder and began to search through my pack for a snack. With candy bar in hand, I settled back and found myself eye to eye with a big fat doe. She had materialized as if by magic directly in front of me! I knew if I moved she was gone and I was anxious to get some fresh venison in the freezer. The waiting game began with me reaching inch by inch for my bow. Well, she won. I got an all to familiar view of that white flag waving “bye-bye” through the trees!

Eleven thirty came and I went for lunch determining that I would hunt that same stand in the afternoon. I was back in my stand by 1:30 P.M. It was about 60 degrees and hoisting my rather large frame up the tree had broken me into a sweat. I had rummaged through my bag and found a rag to wipe the excess perspiration from my face when I heard the leaves crackling just a little to rhythmically for a squirrel! Scanning the woods, I spotted a small spike buck heading toward me. I stood slowly and got my bow in position. I then saw another buck about 10 yards behind him. This was a racked buck and I had never harvested a racked buck with a bow! Both deer entered the field where I had thought they would. They skirted the field opposite me at about 35 yards. When they passed behind the Oak tree I went to full draw with my heart about to jump out of my chest. Just as I was going to release, I caught movement on my right periphery. I turned my head slightly to the right and almost fell out of the tree! All I saw was antlers! Coming down the same trail as the other two (forgotten) bucks was another buck whose horns seemed to grow with every step! I shifted my body slowly to the right, still at full draw, and began to look for an opening. He walked into the field at the same point as the other two bucks but then abruptly turned toward me. Keeping the Oak between us, he grazed and crunched acorns without a concern in the world. I finally had to release my draw, no mean feat with muscles quivering with anticipation, 70 lb. Draw weight and 80% let-off! He finally passed the Oak on the wrong side, of course, and continued toward me now keeping the small hickory sapling between us. I have no idea where the other two bucks had gone, I had developed the worst possible case of tunnel vision. The big eight pointer stepped directly under my stand and stopped. He had a tall, beautifully sculptured rack. I can’t describe what my heart was doing, but it couldn’t have been good for me!

I was having nightmarish thoughts that this buck was going to turn left and disappear in the thick stuff behind my stand. Finally he stepped out into the open. I took careful aim high and behind his left shoulder at less than six yards. I had hoped my arrow would catch part of one lung and continue through his heart. I released and missed my aim point by more than six inches! The Muzzy drove through his spine directly between his shoulder blades and exited through the front of his neck severing the carotid artery. (I’d rather be lucky than good!) He fell on the spot and didn’t move again! I was glad that I was alone in the woods that day. Had their been any one else around they would have thought we had been invaded by a troop of Howler Monkeys!!!
I understand that trophy size is relative and I’m sure many of you have taken larger bucks. This on only measured around 120” but he is my largest buck ever and he was taken on the Eleven Acre with a stick and string! I’ll bet none of you have ever been happier!