The young man had dreamed of harvesting a buck one day like his grandfather and uncle did every year, but things hadn’t gone very well for him. Though he started at a young age the deer population was low and there was little hope of harvesting a buck, but that was his goal.

He followed his grandfather all around Mississippi in search of the ever-elusive buck. Trips to Noxubee Refuge were fruitless. Regular trips to Port Gibson were made and he even saw lots of does, but never a buck. Does were not legal in those days and so the hunts mounted up and disappointments were compounded.

Trips to Webster County led to more disappointment but he did see deer, just not the right kind. As time wore on the young man read Outdoor Life, Sports Afield and Field and Stream. He was enamored by the hunts taken in faraway places. These were places that he couldn’t imagine.

The Big 3 outdoors magazines were about the only source of deer hunting information in the days way before internet and videos were even thought about in the outdoors pursuits.

One day the young man went to G.D. Pool’s barber shop and read a very interesting article on hunting bucks during the rut. The article said that bucks would mark their territory with scrapes on the ground, pawed out places that ranged from a foot wide to 3-foot-wide in circular fashion. The article said that the buck would leave his scent in the scrape for does to find. The does would then wait around until big boy came a courting.

Much later the young hunter was hunting near Daleville in the hills and hollows southeast of the town when he came upon a “hot scrape.” The day was overcast with a light drizzle and the freshly pawed earth left the distinctive fresh sign that a buck had just been there. Further down the pine ridge he found another scrape and before long he’d pinpointed the ridge that the buck was working.

He was determined to come back the next day to get that buck. He could hardly sleep that night as he was so excited about the possibilities.

The next afternoon he was on the ridge again and found that the scrapes were actively worked the night before. He hunted slowly, stalking deliberately until he came to a thicket. It was there that he made his stand for the afternoon. He backed up into the thick brush and from that vantage point he could see the open pine ridge to the south.

Crack! Pop! Something stepped on a limb and then it happened again.

Suddenly a doe popped through the fence to the west and circled directly in front of him until it had passed by. Then another doe followed on the exact trail. The excitement was building and adrenalin flowing in the veins of the young hunter.

Does kept coming from the thicket and passing by one by one just browsing here and there. Finally the 11th doe passed by him at 30 yards and disappeared over the ridge.

Elation turned to disgust and dejection. Not again, this couldn’t be happening again. It seemed that he had all the does named around Daleville because he saw them every time he went hunting, but nary a buck.

Just as the last doe passed out of sight, he heard the fence twang to the west and looked up just in time to see antlers coming through the fence. The buck followed the doe’s trail to a T, following them in a direct line straight out in front of the young hunter.

As the buck walked 30 yards in front of him, he put the bead on the buck’s shoulder and squeezed off a shot.

“Boom!” The shotgun roared, and the buck cut a flip. He twitched, and the shotgun roared again, and the buck lay still, motionless on the pine straw.

The young man could hardly believe his eyes as he stood over the buck. Until now he could only dream of killing a buck and almost thought they were ghosts, but that was in the past and he was finally a real deer hunter, having harvested a buck on his own.

That buck was harvested on Christmas eve 1971 and was the culmination of a lifelong dream.

The day after Christmas the young man filled his extra buck tag with his second buck and he’s never wavered in his desire or quest since. That was the start of a passion filled love for life in the outdoors that still burns hot today. That young boy was none other than Michael O. Giles who has now enjoyed a life in the outdoors almost beyond measure through desire, motivation and perseverance. Along the way he has trained many youngsters how to fish and hunt successfully and it never gets old. Carpe Diem.

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