A brisk northern wind hit me flush in the face as I approached my deer stand in the hardwood bottoms of Webster County. The leaves had fallen long ago and were replaced with a thin layer of ice with slivers of icicles hanging from the branches, remnants of the recent deluge that had come just before the freeze.

Upon first glance, one might have thought that a light snow had fallen the night before as the leaves were lightly coated with old Jack Frost. The frost would make it easy for me to hear any approaching deer this morning. As the leaves crunched under my feet, I thought about how many times I had been in these same woods. Today was a crisp, clear day, full of promise and perfect for deer hunting on the last day of the season.

The deer were in full rut now, and I had been hunting one old buck for quite a while. My stand was located in a beech tree at the base of a ridge in swamp bottom. To the east there was a creek running from north to the south. On the opposite side was a ridge that ran from the west to the base of my stand on the east side, where it played out and dropped into the flat swamp bottom.

From my vantage point I could see any deer that crossed within a couple hundred yards. The surrounding area was full of ridges that ran along either side of the property. This made the creek bottom a natural funnel for the deer. The ridge that played out right beneath my stand was full of buck sign. The old monarch had left many a buck rub on the trees and had formed a scrape line that extended from my stand all the way up the top of the ridge. The ridge was approximately 200 yards long and intersected with another larger ridge to the west.

The morning was rather uneventful with only a few squirrels seen foraging about, looking for something to eat. Around 10:30 things heated up as I heard a loud crash and commotion in the water about 75 yards up the creek. In seconds two does slowly emerged from the creek bottom and slowly meandered past my stand before disappearing out of sight over the ridge. I stood at full alert for a few minutes hoping a buck would be hot on their trail.

Approximately 20 minutes later I glanced up the ridge and saw what appeared to be a dog trailing a deer. On second glance, I realized it was a big buck with his nose to the ground, hot on the trail of the does. Due to the thickness of the cover and the speed he was traveling, I didn’t have a clear shot. The buck had apparently circled my stand and picked up the does’ trail upwind of me.

About 30 minutes later, a coyote raced past. He was on the trail of the buck and he was moving swiftly in the direction the deer had gone. Normally I would have taken out this predator, but not today. I decided to spend the last day of the season in the stand and didn’t want to take a chance and spook any deer.

Around 1:15 I heard water splashing loud and violently. This was a sound that I had heard many times before. Since the deer usually cross the creek near my stand, it was not unusual to hear and see deer.

I turned slowly to glance at the crossing, but there was not a deer in sight. A few minutes passed before I heard the sound again. Next, I heard a crashing noise around 100 yards up the creek. Splash, splash, splash, squash, closer and louder it came.

Then there was nothing, only silence again. Kawoosh! Splash, splash, splash-there it was again. Surely it couldn’t be a beaver. This went on for what seemed like an eternity. I could see the creek banks in full sight but could not account for the noise and commotion I was hearing.

Finally, I spotted movement about 60 yards to my right. What was that? A rack of antlers appeared moving along just above the banks of the creek. I couldn’t believe it. The best buck I had seen that year was about to slip right past me. The creek banks were four to five feet high, with just a little water in the creek bed. The buck was almost by me now, and I still hadn’t seen anything but a glimpse of antlers. Then I saw a creek bend that turned toward me slightly and I could see into the creek bed for just a little way. This could be my only chance.

When the massive buck rounded the bend all I could see was his head and neck. Not wanting to ruin his antlers, I had only one difficult shot on this moving deer, a neck shot. In an instant he appeared in my scope and the Browning .270 roared to life. Then the buck just vanished into thin air, gone with only silence remaining. Had I missed completely? Many times a wise old buck will hunker down and crawl out of sight of a hunter to escape detection.

After waiting and watching for about five minutes I could stand it no longer. I descended from my lofty perch and made my way to the creek. As I peered over the rim of the creek bank I saw that the buck had been dispatched with a perfect shot to the neck. The rack was tall and sported 11 points, my best buck ever, and he was a fine trophy indeed.

Upon further inspection of the buck’s back trail, I realized he had been traveling in the water. He never came out onto a sandbar. When he got to a treetop that lay across the creek, he would jump over and through it, but never veered around on the dry sandbars. Evidently, he was escaping a coyote or another buck, because there were no dogs in the woods that day. The buck had found the safest travel corridor of all and had likely used this evasive tactic many times before.

From ground level a hunter would have never spotted the buck. How many times had he escaped death in this manner? I don’t know, but it was a first for me. The memories of harvesting the “creek bottom buck” with my grandfather on the last day of the season will live on with me forever.

Call Mike Giles at 601-917-3898 or email mikegiles18@comast.net.