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Show Me Big Bucks

Karen Linderman

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It was November 16th, the very first day of deer season and I had planned to go deer hunting with my husband, Leonard, on our 85 acre farm located in some of the area's most beautiful and natural fishing and hunting habitat areas in the State of Missouri.

The alarm went off around 4:30 that morning and I awoke with a horrible throbbing migraine. I reluctantly told my husband to go on to the deer woods without me, but he said, "No, we'll just wait a few hours." He then encouraged me to take something for the headache, sleep for awhile longer, and said we'd go to the woods later, if I were feeling better.

Leonard woke me up again a few hours later and the migraine had eased up. He asked if I felt like going hunting with him and I replied that I did. He suggested that we go up into the woods to a location where he had a large deer stand that he had erected about three years earlier. The floor was built about twelve-foot off the ground and it set between three medium trees. With sides built up to about three feet on all sides, it was a sturdy structure that was held and braced together with cross arms, bolts, and heavy-duty cables.

We climbed up into the stand about 10 AM and settled into our positions. We were facing opposite directions: he was facing north and I was facing south. It was exceptionally quiet and peaceful where we were sitting with not a single sound or sighting of any deer.

Even though the sun was out, it seemed extremely cold to me. I had dressed very warmly with long-handled underwear, two pairs of extra sweatpants, four layers of shirts, my insulated outdoor coveralls, and a bright orange zipper hooded sweatshirt. Plus, I had on three pairs of socks and my insulated boots. I had even tied a bandana on over my head and ears, plus a warm pull down stretch cap, which was under the orange hooded sweatshirt.

We had sat there patiently for two hours just enjoying nature and our surroundings when Leonard decided to apply some doe scent on an old sock he had fastened to the tree, about three feet below the floor of our deer stand. I watched as he put twenty five to thirty drops of the doe scent from a small bottle he had retrieved from his backpack. He closed the bottle, placed it back in his backpack, and had just seated himself in his chair, when I saw "the buck" and it was straight ahead of me.

I whispered, "Leonard, here comes a buck, it's huge and it's charging towards us. Get your gun!" As he turned around and reached for his gun, he caught sight of it and replied, "You shoot it!" As I watched that big buck running down the hill, 150 yards away, and still coming towards us, I raised my gun. I was having a difficult time finding him in my sights and I don't mind telling you, I was shaking and excited! Then Leonard grabbed his gun and turned around and the big buck must have seen us move or the glint off our gun barrels for he hurriedly turned off the path and headed off into the brush. It ran twenty yards and stopped, turned and lunged about thirty yards heading to the cleared path. Leonard fired off a shot, but the buck turned, running back east and stopped in a small clearing at the edge of the brush line.

The monstrous buck was now a hundred yards from me and I tried to get him in my sights, but I had zoomed the scope up. I then eased back a little from the scope and eventually located him in my sights. I finally took a shot, the buck whirled quickly away, but I was sure I had seen it stagger as it disappeared out of sight.

The buck had taken off up the brushy hillside and vanished in the thick underbrush heading deeper into the woods. Leonard told me he was going to attempt to track it and walked to the area where he had taken a shot at the buck, but could not find any signs of blood. With hand signals, I lead him to the area where I shot and sure enough, he found the blood trail!

I waited impatiently in the treestand as he walked into the brush and headed deeper in the wooded area. Nearly three hours later, Leonard came upon some cedars and spotted the buck collapsed not far away. He was a majestic animal weighing approximately 250 pounds. It was only when he walked up to the big buck lying there in front of him that he realized that it was an eleven-point buck.

While having the buck checked in, a female conservation agent came over and looked at my deer, taking down some measurements and before leaving she said, "It might go into the Missouri Show Me Big Bucks Record Books. If so, you can qualify for the Missouri Show Me Big Bucks Club." This was exciting news, though I was hesitant to believe it.

I let the antlers dry for five months and finally on April 18th, still thinking it probably wasn't big enough to qualify for the Big Bucks Club, I decided to have it scored anyway. Regardless, I called the local conservation officer to inquire on how to get it scored. I was told they had a conservation agent, named Larry in the next county who was qualified to score the antlers, so I called Larry who told me to leave the antlers at our local office and he would be around within the next two weeks to score it. I dropped them off later that day and have since found out later that the lady in the office was so impressed with them that she drove the antlers over to Larry that same afternoon.

On the following Monday morning, I received a call from Agent Larry who congratulated me on a great set of antlers, adding that he had scored them and they were ready to be picked up. I was excited, thanked him, and arrived later at the conservation office to retrieve my antlers. I was totally shocked to see written on a sealed envelope "SCORE 143 7/8 MISSOURI SHOW-ME BIG BUCKS CLUB." I couldn't believe it. I was literally stunned! I was extremely proud of myself and of my Marlin 357 lever action, with an 18" barrel, model 1894 with a Bushnell 3 x 9 power scope. Every time I look at those antlers, I vividly recall my daughter exclaiming, "You go, girl!" So remember ladies, you can wake up in the middle of the morning with a headache and still bag that big buck before noon, and it never hurts to take a stout man along to track it and bring it home for you.

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