It was opening weekend of Modern Gun in Arkansas, 2015. After hearing one of my best friends from Arkansas tell me about his hunts in the central part of the state on the national forest for several years, he gladly agreed when I asked if I could tag along. Not only was public land hunting new to me, but the way they hunted it was completely foreign to me. They would put a boat in the water, jump out at the base of a mountain/peninsula, and hike up to their stands. Up until about 50 yards into the hike up the mountain, I thought I was in pretty good shape. My friend’s father in law basically walked me right to the stand. I checked my Fitbit when I reached the climber they had set up for me a few weeks earlier, and I had hiked almost a mile, mostly uphill! I was soaked with sweat from hiking the whole way with my coveralls on (I was used to either riding a four wheeler close to my stand or walking 200-300 yards max on flat ground to my stand). I climbed the tree, and when the sun came up I was amazed at the view. Their were still some leaves on the trees, but enough had fallen that I could see the lake several hundred yards below me.
By 7:00 AM, I had already seen three deer. A young forked horn buck came from directly in front of me. He stopped and stared at something. I looked over my shoulder, and there was a decent 9 point buck and a doe standing on the trail I had hiked in on. I was hunting with a Ruger M77 7mm Rem Mag with Remington Core Lokts (150 grain I believe). I waited until I was sure “Ole Forky” wouldn’t see me turn in the stand and shoulder my rifle. I squeezed the trigger, and the 9 point buck ran 40 yards before falling over graveyard dead. I waited about 30 minutes before climbing down. It was a good shot through the heart with a good exit and a good blood trail. After the boat ride and the long, uphill hike, I thought most of the hard work was over. Boy was I wrong. When my buddy arrived he gutted the deer and instructed me to start dragging. He said, “just get to the lake, and I will find you with the boat.” I dragged the buck (I estimate he weighed a hair over 100 lbs without his innards) downhill with rocks sliding under my feet while navigating over and around downed trees and boulders, through drainage ditches, and up and over saddles in the terrain. I finally made it to the lake, and I was physically beat down. I had made it to a little cove on the lake, and it was an absolutely beautiful scene of Lake Ouachita in November.
