Big Game Illustrated - Issue 15

The

Freak GIANT

ALBERTA BULL ELK Massive Mule Deer and Whitetails from Western Canada

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In This Issue...

6

He Who Waits by Jonah McGregor

12 Heavy by Cameron Donovan 16 Full House by Cam Hollman 20 He’s Got it All by Jordan Miller 26 Start of an Addiction 30

by Aaron White

First Archery Success: Gnarls by Mark Fitzpatrick

36 Chokecherry Blinds by Sheldon Tarapaski 42 Back to the Hunt by Kayla Burns 48 The Story of Rummy by Taylor Sliva 54

Expect the Unexpected by Aimee Murray

60 The Story of Geronimo by Christian LeVatte 64

The One by Branden Blomme

72 The Freak! by James Miller

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Doing our Part

by Chad Wilkinson

68

We cannot thank our contributors enough, and we are now doing our part to share our hunts through big game films

78 Campfire Chronicles

by Chris Maxwell

Many hunters plan their hunt all year.

Managing time for it should be a critical part of any hunt, in order to ensure you can spend as much of your time as possible actually hunting!

Time Well Spent

by Kaare Gunderson Spending time doing what you love, whatever that is, should always be a priority and sharing it with family makes it that much more special.

80

The Future of Hunting Dedicated to all the young hunters.

He Who Waits BY: JONAH MCGREGOR

Caption

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atience, patience, patience. A lesson my Dad taught me long ago, early on, during many of our hunts. My love of hunting came from him, but grew to something much more.

It now consumes most of my life, outside of working. Shawn, another close hunting partner of mine and mentor, if you will, also has a saying that means a lot to me and runs through my mind over and over as the hunting season progresses. It is a lot like my

Dad telling me to be patient, it says, “He who waits”. Listening to the words of these two wise accomplished hunters has got me to where I am today. I’ve been looking for a buck like this as far back as I can remember, ever since taking my first 140” class whitetail buck at a young age. Checking trail camera after trail camera, seeking new hunting areas and hours upon hours of scouting has prepared me for it.

The first sighting of this on my trail cam almost dropped me to my knees, I was blown away! I’ve seen many pictures of giant deer that others have caught pictures of or harvested, but to see it first hand on my camera was something else, I was speechless. As soon as I pulled myself together, seeing he had been there a few days in a row and it was still well before the hunting season began, I continued on. My mind was in another world, with nothing but the giant going through my head. I recall I don’t remember saying much that night and only getting a few, if any, hours of sleep. I was already starting my plan on how I would outsmart the deer. I kept a close eye on the area, putting up a few more cameras, hoping to try and get a pattern of some

sort from him while trying at the same time to keep my activity and scent in the area to a minimum. The days went on as I was trying to get in “sheep shape” for an upcoming big horn sheep hunt in the Alberta Rocky Mountains that two close hunting partners and I had coming up the last week of August. As my girlfriend Kailyn and I were coming back from a run, we came upon the field he had been visiting on occasion and there he was! It was the first time I had seen him with my own eyes, about 8:00pm, on August 17th. It was amazing to watch a deer like that, especially in full velvet, and it was nothing like I have seen before.

We soon left to the mountains on our sheep hunt, in pursuit of the majestic bighorn. Seeing many sheep but no rams worth pursuing we packed up are horses and headed for home. The trail out was long, and leaving the mountains is always slightly saddening; even if you get the rare chance to bring home a ram within your hunting group, but the excitement of heading home to see what the future may hold soon took over. Little did I know I would not get the buck on trail camera again for quite some time. He turned into a ghost as many big bucks do.

Climbing tree stand after tree stand with the hope that the biggest buck of my hunting career would come out and walk into my arrows range was all that ran through my mind. The elk rut soon approaching was a very tough distraction to deal with.

Since I had not seen the buck on my cams in a couple weeks now, I went out after the elk, trying to ease my frustrations.

Many close calls with younger bulls and a couple legal shooter six point bulls, I just could not close the deal. Frustrated again, I wondered what I was doing wrong. Despite all my time in the tree stands, blinds and stalking, my chance never arrived during the early season.

As November was soon approaching, our annual hunting trip was coming up. We headed north from home and set up the wall tents for the better portion of the month, as we’ve been doing for 15 or more years with my Dad, Uncle and many friends. The Friday night before we left, I asked my Dad and close friend Charles what they would do as we sat staring at trail camera pictures. I was torn between chasing this amazing once in a lifetime whitetail or heading up to help set up our camp with family and friends. They both replied without even hesitating, “Hunt that deer!” Now with my mind positively made up, I strategically planned days off from work. I would take the

second week and the last week of the month to try and hit the whitetail rut as best as I could.

November 1st was just around the corner as I prepared and had all my things in order. I still did not have the buck on camera, but was trying to stay positive, hoping the rut would bring him my way as I now had my rifle in my hand and was not taking any chances. Sitting in my blind alongside Kailyn we saw many does, fawns and lesser bucks walk by, which was exciting to see. I very much enjoy seeing any kind of wildlife while out hunting, day in and day out it is not always about the kill. The week went on and not a sight of the buck. Having a slightly warmer than normal November for our area, with temperatures hovering around the zero degree Celsius mark, I was very curious to see how this would affect the rut. About mid-day, November 6th I headed out after the morning hunt to check my cameras. After the third or fourth camera, there he was! Finally he was back on my camera on November 5th, 7:06 at night mind you but I was very excited none the less. He was back and I couldn’t believe it! Making it back to the house after I finished my rounds checking cameras, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. There was a chance, he was back and I was more determined than ever to harvest him!

Every night for the rest of the week it was hunt, eat, to bed early, then up early, eat and hunt. I knew I had to go back to work for a week away from home soon so the pressure built.

Monday morning came without sight of the buck through my cross hairs, but I knew he was still returning regularly on my camera every three to four days which kept me positive as I headed back to work. The longest week at work finally came to a close and I was headed home! After four hours of driving I made it to our home. A quick unload of the work truck and it was to bed.

At 6:00 am, my alarm went off and I shot out of bed. I downed a quick cup of coffee and I was on my way to the blind. I did not know whether he was still around or even still alive, but somehow I knew he was still there, I had a feeling. It was the last week of November so it was make or break time. I’ll admit I was already thinking that if he survives the season I may be able to find the incredible deer’s antlers, but I wanted nothing more to have him on my wall. The weather was supposed to get colder, dipping well into the negatives and the full moon was just around the corner. I hoped that this would mean an in-

crease in movement. I sat every day morning and night, most days only going in for a quick bathroom break and lunch then heading back out to the blind.

Some days were very slow and slightly discouraging but that was a rare occasion. Most days I would see quite a few deer which I knew was a good indication and I knew I was in a good spot. As I watched doe after doe filter into the field, I imagined him following one out. I probably replayed this scenario in my head over and over a thousand times. The rut action was picking up as I was seeing more bucks coming into the area, especially during daylight hours.

I was invited over to Shawn’s house the night of the 24th as another close hunting buddy from southern Alberta was up for a few days, trying to find a whitetail of his own. After hunting that night, my girlfriend Kailyn and I went over to Shawn’s to share hunting stories, pictures and have a few beverages.

It was after midnight when we got home, but I still got all my stuff ready for the morning and then laid down to sleep. 6:30 am the alarm went off and I remember sitting up in bed, shutting the alarm off, thinking maybe I should sit this morning out. Then I proceeded to lay back down for what I thought was a second. Next thing I knew I looked at my watch and it was 7:42! Legal light was 7:47! I rushed as fast as I could down the stairs, already mad at myself thinking, “How could I sleep in and miss the best part of the morning!” I jumped into my hunting gear and grabbed my Remington and out the door I went. I made it to my blind, crawled in and sat there. I was disappointed, mad, downright angry as I thought, “What if I missed him? Did I miss my shot? I spent all this time and I slept in and missed him.” I was still kicking myself after 15 minutes when I noticed something coming onto the field! I think I almost fell out of my chair, it was him! I quickly glassed him and yes there was no doubt! I grabbed my rifle and put a round in the chamber.

I watched him for a few seconds as he was walking away from me looking like he may enter back into the bush. He followed the bush and rounded the corner of the fence line. He then again turned

like he was walking in the bush but at the last second, as my cross hairs patiently waited, he turned perfectly broad side. I pulled the trigger. He dropped in his tracks, I quickly reloaded if I needed a follow up shot. I absolutely couldn’t believe it as I thought, “I have dropped the biggest deer of my hunting career!” After getting a hold of myself, I texted Kailyn who was still in bed. “GET OUT HERE NOW!!! BUCK DOWN!!”...no response…”WAKE UP!!!”... no response. I tried calling and no answer.

It sure felt like a dream! All of those hours and hours and miles were now finally worth it as I did it! Waiting 20 minutes, I hopped down out of the blind and Kailyn was walking into the field. She asked, “You shoot?” I nodded yes. With her hands on her head like a set of antlers she asked, “The big one?” Almost in tears, I nodded yes! She almost fell to her knees saying, “Oh my gosh!”

That was an incredibly happy moment.

We walked back to the house, smiling from ear to ear. We had a quick cup of coffee then headed out. We packed up a small back pack and headed over to where he fell. Walking onto the field I

came around the corner and there he was! It was a very surreal moment. I held his antlers in my hands for the first time and just sat in silence and thanked the lord and this once in a lifetime buck, for the chance and opportunity I was given. My Dad called and congratulated me on my achievement, I could hear in his voice how happy he was for me and how proud it made him. It almost brought me to tears for the second time of the morning. We took many pictures and shared many smiles and laughs that day with the many friends and family that came over to see the magnificent deer. My Dad and friend Charles came out of our hunting camp driving three hours just to share that moment with me. It was a moment I will never ever forget. A moment that will stand out in my life time. A moment I hope to share with my kids one day. I am one of the lucky ones to harvest a 200” class whitetail deer and have him grace my wall for the rest of my lifetime. Patience and Persistence, two of hunting’s most important words helped me on this journey and I won’t soon forget them. “He Who Waits”.

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HEAV II

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he mid-August sun rose like any other the morning of the 15th. I eased into my routine of loading the four wheeler and grabbing a handful of SD cards to switch out of the trail cameras. After a short call to my hunting buddy, Bradley Leptich, we were on our way. The pictures from the first few cameras showed some potential, mostly young deer, not quite "the one" we were searching for. Finally, we arrived at our last spot, a new area for the season. A particular buck, a 150" 5x5 with split G2s and a few other stickers had been making an occasional appearance, but we knew we weren't in his core area. We knew of a travel corridor insulated with thick timber leading the deer between their bedding area and a luscious alfalfa field, that might just be the perfect spot to find

this particular buck, so we moved the camera and began our new surveillance. After getting the camera settled in its new location, and climbing back into the truck, we pulled the pictures up only to find our buck had visited a mere one time in two weeks. Luckily, our disappointment soon diminished. Our jaws dropped as the pictures from August 14th flipped across the computer screen. A new buck! He looked to be a very respectable deer. The anticipation of what these few pictures held would have to get us through the next few weeks until we could check the cameras again.

The time had finally come, and we set off change over the SD cards. High on excitement, we made our way back to the truck.

Disappointment sunk in as we realized that the big boy had

VY By: Cameron Donovan

Cameron Donovan from Estevan, Saskatchewan with the tremendous whitetail he anchored in 2015. Southeast Saskatchewan continue to produce some of the top whitetails from that province each year, and Cameron’s buck is no exception.

The rack carries tremendous mass throughout and the 6 x 5 frame ended up with a gross score of 175 4/8�!

made an appearance. Mid-September came with no other shooters on camera and no sign of our buck, we shifted our direction west after some mule deer. Even with the distraction of a redirected hunt, the six point antler haunted me the rest of the season.

September passed with an elk and black bear on the ground among the changing leaves, but still with no sign of the elusive whitetail that now seemed to reside only in my memory. After a thorough investigation over a few drinks, a good friend of mine and I came to the conclusion that my buck was the offspring of a buck he had hunted for several years. That buck was a colossal 170" giant with pop can size bases he fittingly named Heavy. With my search reinvigorated, I dubbed the buck I was after Heavy II and continued on my tireless hunt. Another hit came when my friend realized that he had pictures of my buck from the previous season in 2014, over five miles from where I had photographed him just a few months ago. My hope soared as what I thought was a cold trail was starting to warm with clues.

October came and went with endless hours spent scouting, searching and moving cameras in the desperate attempt to get this deer back in my sights. Discouragement weighed heavily on my shoulders and I contemplated defeat. The sun was bright and full on November 10th. It was ten days before rifle season

opened and I was back in my hunting routine. My stomach somersaulted when I saw him fly onto my computer screen, Heavy II in all his glory, showing himself in broad daylight. The hunt was back on! Opening day was fast approaching and I was ready.

The sweet buzz of my alarm split the silence of twilight and released me from the sleepless anticipation I had endured all night. It was go time. After a short drive from my home and a short paddle across an icy creek, I was in my blind, well before the legal shooting time. With time to kill, I went through the trail camera pictures from the day before. I was shocked and amazed to find that Heavy II had been through the area at 4:30pm. I was pumped and I was ready. I settled myself at 22 yards from where I expected to see him, ready with bow in hand, rifle close by just in case he walked by without offering me a bow shot. Opening day crawled by in the silence of watching and waiting. Buck after buck journeyed past me, including a buck I named Split, a 155" 5x5 with a split G3, but still no trace of the buck I was holding out for.

Day four found me in the same place as the previous three, no closer to the buck stalking my imagination. Bored and discouraged, I took another look through the thick wilderness, and caught sight of the long tines I had been waiting for! This had to be him, Heavy II had arrived! With a pounding heart I readied my gun, letting the anticipation wash over me like an urgent whirlwind. As the hulking 4x4 revealed itself I realized he wasn’t the one I was waiting for. I contemplated taking this gorgeous 160” buck instead, but I just couldn’t let the hope of Heavy II go, so I let him walk by, unscathed. As the warm November sun set into a blood red pool above the treeline, I reflected on the last few days. Forty long hours and nothing to show for it. With a heavy heart, I accepted my momentary defeat and headed home.

The following Wednesday, I was off work a little earlier than usual and decided to escape into the solitude of the thick trees and soft ground, barely hanging on to the vague hope that the elusive buck might be grazing nearby. I walked slowly, letting the chilled breeze of impending winter hit my face. I was lost in my own thoughts when I looked up when I saw him. 75 yards from my feet, there he was, majestic antlers rising above the does that stood around him. I knew instantly, this was the moment I had been waiting for all season.

I quickly shouldered my gun and made my shot before he could bolt away and before I could take another breath. He ran desperately about 50 yards into the open, before he succumbed to his fate and fell to the dirt!

Suddenly my mind caught up with my instincts.

What just happened? Did I really just kill him? Is this hunt actually over? I raced through the thick branches like a lightning bolt, barely able to contain my excitement to get my hands on this buck, the focus of my entire season. The closer I got, the more the awe of the moment washed over me like a soothing balm.

I stood in silence before this beautiful creature, this immaculate creation of nature, thankful that he had laid down his life for me in the ceaseless continua-

tion of life and death. The hunt for Heavy II was finally over.

The aftermath of that fateful moment brought many congratulations and texted pictures to my family and friends. My brother, Reece, gladly volunteered to help me load this immense creature into the back of my truck. It wasn't until the

calm of the evening set in that I realized this was indeed the deer of a lifetime. Thank you to all the friends who helped with the harvest. Thank you to Mike Halirewich of Estevan for scoring him, and to Travis Graham of Big T's taxidermy for the beautiful mount.

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Cam Hollman fulfilled his dream and took an incredibly massive whitetail in 2015. In fact, it was one of the top typical whitetails from Saskatchewan that year. The mass on the buck is nothing short of spectacular, with H3’s of 6 4/8” and 8 1/8”. Despite a relatively narrow spread of 17 2/8”, the buck more than makes up for it with long tines, including G2’S of 11 4/8” and 10 4/8”. The final numbers on Cam’s buck came in at 187 5/8” gross and it went into the record books with a net typical score of 180 5/8”!

he pursuit of the buck named “Full House” began October 24, 2014 when I got my first glimpse of the heavy Saskatchewan monster on my trail camera. Since then he has haunted my dreams and his image drove my desire to harvest the once in a lifetime whitetail.

However, as many selective hunters know, a mature whitetail of this calibre has a tendency to remain nocturnal. Many hours spent in the stand left me frustrated, frozen, and without a single sightings of Full House. Despite my frustration, the thought of him still out there motivated me to spend every spare second in his home territory. I knew I had to do everything in my power to increase my chances, or it was something I may regret forever. A buck like Full House doesn’t come along very often, if ever!

I thought my best chance to catch up to him would be during the rut. However, once the rut heated up, my nightmare became a reality as he vanished for the remainder of the 2014 rifle season! I was left with only a handful of trail cam pictures and a lot of regret. I was sure I’d never get this kind of opportunity again. When spring 2015 rolled around, I was eager to find proof that Full House had survived the harsh Saskatchewan winter. If I had any luck maybe the cagey old whitetail would even have remained in the same area. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but I was sure that I would do everything I could to catch up to him. Despite my best efforts, the spring of 2015 rolled passed with no sign of his sheds. Despite my disappointment about the lack of sheds, I tried to remain hopeful that he’d reappear in the fall.

The summer of 2015 consisted of prepping my deer stand while dreaming of Full House. I found myself out and eager earlier than most years due to my feverish attachment to the buck. I didn’t really let myself get my hopes up because I knew there was a good chance that I would never see him again. Then, on September 22, 2015 I had a moment in time that I will never forget as long as I live. I froze while looking at my trail camera. It was my old friend!

He was alive and well and bigger than ever. A job opportunity had recently arisen that enabled me to live closer to my hunting area

FULL

HOUSE BY: CAM HOLLMAN

and with Full House back on my camera it seemed like destiny!

The buck was now coming in regularly, and surprisingly it was often in legal hunting hours! I thought to myself, “This is too good to be true, there is no way it can happen to me”.

I found myself walking into my stand for the first time of the year on Oct. 1, not realizing I was making my way towards a once in a lifetime buck. Not long after settling in, I was greeted by a small buck and a few does. They seemed on edge and I worried maybe they’d winded me. However, as they continued mulling around I realized it wasn’t me they were worried

about and began to suspect they were waiting for something to come out of the trees. Glancing back into the thick bush, I had a feeling deep in my stomach and I just knew it was him.

I can’t explain it, but if anyone knows what I mean it will be other hunters. Somehow, I was aware that all of my hopes and dreams would soon become reality. As he took his first steps into the clearing, I swallowed hard and realized how special this deer really was. He held his head high and proud like he was the monarch of the region, presenting a perfect broad side shot just outside 100 yards! He lifted his nose to smell the crisp

fall air as I locked my bolt on my Remington 700 muzzleloader and pulled the trigger. As smoke filled the air, I heard the smack, saw him pause in his tracks and stumble from the

blow, then go down like a fallen hero! I silently thanked God for this amazing creature as I descended from the stand and approached my once in a lifetime buck, Full House.

Jordan Miller with the Saskatchewan that truly does have it all. It the type of buck that most hunters dream about with a big typical frame, massive beams, and more than 16” of junk adding character. Jordan’s Dad had been hunting the buck for two years when Jordan put the buck down, but his dad was very happy to see his son have success, tagging a 187 7/8” buck.

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ugust of 2014 rolled around and we had permission to set out cameras and blinds on a family friends land, who runs a large farming operation. Things started out slow and it wasn’t until mid-November that a big 6x6 showed up on one of our trail cameras.

A week before opening day, I had just bought a new house which meant, unfortunately for me, I would be missing out whitetail season for the first time in my life! The closest I got to hunting was the daily updates from my Dad and brother every time they went out. My dad hunted the area for 10 days with no luck, and with no other talk from the locals of anyone taking down a big deer that season, we could only hope the big 6x6 would make it through the winter so we could get another shot at finding

him the next year.

On Christmas Eve, we went out and collected all our trail cameras from the year and were surprised to see him show up at another spot we set up. At the time, he was a 6x6 with a split brow tine. As soon as the snow melted, my Dad and brother spent days searching for his sheds but only came up with a couple smaller ones.

When August 2015 arrived, we decided to setup at the same areas as last year, along with a few more spots in hopes that the

He’s Got it

big 6x6 was still alive and in the area. After about six weeks and hundreds of pictures, he was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t until mid-November when Dad was walking in the bottom of the coulee towards one of our spots that he By: Jordan Miller spotted a buck running in the tall grass along the cattails. He was big framed and heavy but didn’t stick around long enough to be sure it was him. Dad rushed home to check the trail cam photos and he was happy to see a picture of a big deer but could only confirm one side.

Dad checked the cameras every second day until the season opened, but still we only had quick side views of the buck showing his left side and one shot showing a sticker off the main beam and what looked like 5 points on his right side.

Morning of opening day, Dad was excited to get out and sit in his favourite blind before daylight hit in order to get a chance at the big one. As daylight approached, and the clock ticked to legal hunting time, a large framed buck walked passed, only 75 yards from the blind. Heart pounding, Dad put up the binoculars only to realize it was not the deer he was after but another

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buck we had seen in the area previously. The rest of the day was uneventful. That night my brother Matthew and I headed home for the weekend to get in as much hunting as we could.

Once we got home we made a plan with Dad for the morning as to where we were going to sit.

Matt and I both knew how much time and effort Dad had already put into getting this deer and we both felt it would be unfair if we were the ones to shoot it. He had been after him for two years and we didn’t want to take away the deer that had become his obsession for such a long time. Of course, my Dad being the way he is, told us that with all the hours he had put into going after this buck, he had only maybe seen him once. Passing up a chance on him would be foolish, regardless of who was taking the shot!

There were lots of other hunters in the area, so the next morning we made sure we were set up in our blinds before day break to ensure we got the first crack at a buck. My Dad and brother set up a couple hundred yards from me, overlooking a small ravine and I headed towards my usual blind.

As soon as I got into the blind I had action on all sides, but mostly does and young bucks. After about an hour of being in the blind, I had a nice buck walk by but with only a small window before he made it into thick cover, I couldn’t get a good enough look at him to tell whether or not he was a shooter.

With no luck during the morning hunt we headed back to the truck and shared what we had seen. We determined the buck I had seen was most likely one of the younger ones we had seen in the area multiple times. Although he was a very nice buck, he was young and still growing and it was best to leave him for another year.

That afternoon my Dad and brother moved to a different stand to try their luck rattling something in, while I climbed into the same blind in hopes that a mature buck would present itself. Again, neither of us had any excitement aside of a few does.

The next day was Sunday, the last day I had to hunt before heading out of province for work. Matthew got called into work so it was just Dad and I heading out in the morning.

We decided to sit in the same blinds we were in the previous morning. We arrived about 20 minutes before legal light so we parked the truck, grabbed our gear and started the half mile walk from the truck to our blinds.

Being that they were only about 200 yards apart we walked together until we were only a short distance from our blinds.

Dad veered off to get set up in a spot over looking multiple small ravines that all joined and opened up into a grassy meadow.

As I crested the hill side making my way into the blind, I noticed a big coyote walking on the frozen lake below. Not thinking much of it, I continued down the hill side and climbed into my blind, and set up my gear. It wasn’t until I turned back around and looked out the blind that I noticed the coyote had barely moved and had its eyes locked on the shore.

From that moment, I sensed something was going on, as I focused my binoculars on the coyote I noticed some movement in the bottom the lens. I quickly started glassing the meadow

only to see a group of does with a smaller buck standing about 275 yards out, camouflaged in the tall grass and cat tails.

Excited but disappointed, I had a hunch there was something else out there. I continued to follow the shore line of the lake below about 30 yards north of the group of does and noticed a big heavy buck trailing another doe. Without a clear view of

how many points he had, there was no hesitation in my mind. He was a shooter and I had to act fast as he was approaching a tree line! I put the crosshairs on him, let the .300 bark and the buck dropped in his tracks. Before the echo of the shot was even over, I was out of the blind and skidding down the slick snow covered coulee as fast as I could. As I reached the bottom I looked back to see my Dad was not far behind me, he must have heard the short and hurried over to see what was happening.

Adrenaline pumping, I slowed down once I reached the bottom of the coulee to let Dad catch up. As I started to calm down a bit, I explained what went on and we hurried over to where I thought the buck was. From the blind it looked like an open flat meadow but once we started walking towards the deer we realised we were going to have to basically step on it in the waist high grass before we

found it.

After walking back and fourth for a couple of minutes searching, I finally spotted antlers sticking out of the grass. Before I could even see any of his points I could see a three inch sticker coming off the main beam on the right side and I knew it, it was him! I yelled over to Dad and said, “It’s him, it’s the

it’s the big one!” As he hurried over, I dropped down and grabbed a hold of the buck.

Although extremely excited about nailing this big deer, I was still worried Dad would be upset that I just shot the deer he had spent the last two years hunting. But his reaction was the

complete opposite; I actually think he was more excited than I was to see that buck down in the grass. He shook my hand and said he’d rather see the deer taken by his son than anybody else, any day.

Doing Our Part

by Chad Wilkinson

We are very excited to announce the launch of Big Game Online and Big Game Films. These productions are the culmination of years of hard work, and are consistent with the vision of Big Game Illustrated, which is to share all the good things about hunting in order to promote and help ensure the future of hunting. We have been filming all of our hunts for the last few years, and thought it was finally time we share some of these experiences. We continue to be blown away by the number of stories we receive from readers and hunters from across North America. This is another reason we started Big Game Online, because we want to share as many of these stories as possible! It is never an easy decision to share a hunting story and pictures.

The instinct of many hunters is to hold any piece of information about a successful hunt close, so nobody else finds out about it and word gets out about ‘their spot’. Thankfully for all of us as hunters, this is an attitude that is changing, and we see that this attitude is disappearing among the younger generation who share everything, which is great for the future of hunting.

The upside of sharing your hunt does not benefit the individual, but clearly benefits the whole hunting community. One must only look at those hunters who put themselves out there and start a hunting show. As we travel around to hunting trade shows, we constantly see hunting clothing blazoned with the name of a hunting ‘celebrity’ who some young hunter looks up to, and who often times inspired the young person to become a hunter. These shows, and hopefully magazines like this one are powerful platforms to get the hunting story out there to the world because we know it is a good one. This was the motivation behind Big Game Films. It is a free, online platform where anyone can watch our videos. It is not about self promotion, in fact that is concept many of us at Big Game Illustrated struggle with, but it is about sharing all the great things about hunting, the incredible ups and downs, the connections with the natural world and time spent in the great outdoors with friends and family. That is what it is all about and we hope that theme comes across in all our work. There is really no individual benefit to all of us who work hard to put our hunts out there for everyone to see. One of the most likely consequences is that some hunters who are looking for a new area to hunt will try and figure out where these shows are being filmed, and we may have more people hunting our areas. That is the most likely consequence, but hearing from young hunters about how they watched the show, or read an article, and it inspired them to try hunting and now they love it, makes it all worth it! Despite the risks, we are confident enough in ourselves to deal with any added pressure and still have fun doing what we love.

Another example of ‘sharing’ your hunts, comes in the form of social media. Recently, I had a very interesting conversation

with an experienced and well known hunter who was quite upset about the social media world, and I took the brunt of that one day. He was convinced that social media was ‘ruining’ hunting.

He yelled that kids today see hunting posts on social media, and now they all want to go hunting, as if this was a bad thing! I was also recently contacted by an experienced member of the outdoor community who was also very upset at the Big Game Illustrated social media pages, and he was convinced that we share way too much on all our pages, and that all of that content should be saved only for printed magazines. The idea that the successes and amazing stories should not be shared everywhere possible is not in the best interest of hunting. Most of us know, and are very confident that hunting and being in the outdoors is a positive experience, and one that should be shared at every chance.

We want to thank everyone for submitting stories for the magazine. It truly is you and your stories that make the magazine what it is. Please keep them coming and we will do our best to pack as many as we can into the pages of the print magazine, as well as publish some in Big Game Online. We hope you take Big Game Films as a way of us thanking you, and sharing our stories for everyone to see and hopefully enjoy. We also have a videos section within Big Game Online, and it is already filling up with other people’s videos that they have submitted to us. There are some amazing hunting groups out there who have spectacular videos produced, and they are all available for free at Big Game Online (www.biggamemagazine.com). Head over and check them all out. Whether it is the southern Saskatchewan group AWOL Outdoors, or the Alberta Full Draw Life crew, we are very happy to be able to share their video stories with you, just like the printed platform we have been providing for years.

If you are toting around a video camera and filming your hunt and capture it on film, look us up and we may be able to help you share it to a wide audience. There are some exciting things happening, and we are going to continue to work hard to share as many of the good things about hunting, in as many different platforms as we can, all in the interest of promoting hunting, and hopefully in the process helping to ensure the future of hunting for generations to come.

Aaron White with the big Minnesota sheds that began his addiction to antlers. He had a lot of history with the buck and put in countless hours scouting and scouring the countryside before finally picking up the matched set! The right side goes a whopping 98 7/8� and when matched up the buck was a 200+ gross monster.

Start of an Addiction

BY: AARON WHITE

M

y very f i r s t shed was found in central Wisconsin completely by accident.

As I knelt down to pick it up, something came over me that changed me forever. The feeling was, and is still indescribable. It is a feeling that only hard core shed hunters know, a truly magical feeling that left me wanting to repeat it again and again. Time passed and I moved away from Wisconsin. I found myself in Northern Minnesota, with no plan in order. In no time at all, I realized that the countryside I now called home held a whole new class of whitetail. Simply driving around, I was bombarded with big northern deer.

The day that changed the rest of my life was the day I decided to do a U-turn to get a better look at a huge bodied deer I caught out of the corner of my eye with its head down. As I approached, the head came up and instantly everything stopped, it was like time just stood still.

I was in a stare down with the largest whitetail I had ever laid my eyes on. I rubbed my eyes and stared in disbelief at the incredible sight before me. The encounter was probably a couple minutes long, but it seemed like a lot longer. For months on end, I continued scouting the area, looking for him, hoping so badly for more sightings. I was blessed with numerous sightings, mostly along one specific road where I decided to name him the Exbuck. As winter was quickly approaching, I continued to see him once in a while. I was sure that I had a pretty good pattern on him and was beginning to draw a mental map of his home range and territory. All the pieces in the puzzle were coming together and I couldn’t help but start thinking of his sheds.

Soon enough the bucks were dropping and I was walking every area that I had seen him. Believe it or not, this was all on public land. I scoured the fields and areas he fed all winter long and in the spring crawled through every area I could think of where he may have bed, but I never did get the sheds. It wasn’t for a lack of effect, but through the countless hours I learned a lot, found a pile of sheds, and was very happy with the experience despite not putting my hands on the Exbuck sheds.

This same story played itself out over the next couple years. I spent countless hours scouting, searching and hoping to find his sheds but every year I came up empty handed. Finally, a full three years

after my first encounter with him, after chasing the cagey public land buck in Minnesota for three years, I was finally able to track down a matched set of sheds. I could not believe it when I laid my hands on both sides, and finally had a set off the Exbuck! The right side is official at 98 7/8” while the left side goes

85 7/8”, a gross 200+” set! The antlers that had consumed me from day one are now in my hands, I look at them daily and am reminded of our countless encounters, and time well spent over all those years.

Tremendous mule deer taken in southeast Saskatchewan by Mark Fitzpatrick. The official P&Y score was 233 1/8” gross non-typical as a 12x10. The gross typical frame comes in at 199 ½” with an even 34” of extras resulting in a score of 226 1/8” net non-typical!

Mark is part of a group of dedicated hunters in southern Saskatchewan chonicling their adventures through film and photos. Check them out at www.awoloutdoors.com.

First Archery Success:

GNARLS BY: MARK FITZPATRICK

I

t all began in a brand new territory. As soon as I laid eyes on a gorgeous chocolate horned 7x7 muley buck. I figured he would score close to 190" non-typical, despite being very narrow. Two straight weekends of hard hiking, sore knees, and four busted stalks on this fella and the archery season quickly came to a close. I didn’t even get close to being able to draw back on him to try to anchor my first archery animal. Tag soup was on the menu and the few photos I took of him had my mind consumed by him for the rest of the year, wondering if he was going to survive the rifle season and the harsh Saskatchewan winter. The shed hunting season came and went and I was unable to scour the hills for his horns which I had thought about all spring.

The next year was spent tuning my bow setup and practicing almost every day getting comfortable with taking a 70 yard shot after practicing out to 90 yards. I wasn't able to get out scouting until mid-August in and had my weekend booked off. First thing after work I was on the highway for the couple hour drive to my little paradise in the badlands. Camp was setup in short order on Friday night and sleep was hard to come by with the cattle wanting to reclaim their spot in the only bush for miles. 4am came fast and as luck would have it, only about one mile later and two hours into the morning I found him! He had moved into a new area about a mile west from his old stomping grounds the previous year. It had a nice coulee system with plenty of trees and stalking potential, but also many swirling winds. He was bedded in the morning sun with a nice 28" wide, 165 class buck on a grassy hill.

Once I was able to get the spotting scope on him in his morning bed, my jaw almost hit the ground and I was as ecstatic as a little kid at Christmas. Not only was I pumped that I had found him again so soon, but the headgear he was now wearing was awesome! As soon as I laid eyes on him, he just looked like a gnarly old buck with four cheaters sticking out the sides, so I named him "Gnarls". After four hours of adding up every inch and taking pictures through the spotting scope like a mad man I was satisfied with my scouting trip and headed home with a

huge smile on my face. The numbers that I had bouncing in head for the next two weeks were 217", 10x9, and to say I was chomping at the bit would be an understatement. This would be the only buck I would cut my tag on if given the chance.

Two weeks later, I was able to secure two full weeks from work and head out the hills for two days of scouting before the season and 11 days of hunting if I needed it. After finally getting camp setup in the pouring rain, I set out up the canyon to the area I had last spotted the buck. I was walking up to the area, in my not so sneaky rain gear, when four muley bucks busted from the second coulee ahead of me, not 300 yards away with the big fella in the rear. All I could do was watch through my binoculars as the bucks ran two miles to the south and out of sight. With extreme disappointment, I went back to camp to dry out for the night and try to keep my chin up for making the rookie mistake that we all have likely made. The next day brought a couple fleeting glimpses and a pinpoint of his location as darkness closed. I had a plan for morning.

Opening morning I opened my eyes to a lit up tent and looked at the clock and it read 7am! "Holy I slept in!" I blurted out confused and one second later I was eating breakfast and scrambling to gather up all my gear and food for the day. Dang alarm error on my part left me in dream land instead of up on the ridges at sun up. I was up the canyon and a mile south of camp in record time, glassing by 7:30! Late, but I could see a few deer still milling around the same bottom I had spotted the three bucks two days ago. BOOM THERE HE WAS in my focus with two does, just going out of sight around a coulee end.

I quickly gathered up my stuff and was off to my glassing point another mile to the south to see them coming around the other side of the coulee. After a mile and a half flat out running, I was in my southern glassing spot waiting for them to appear. 45

minutes later and nothing! I didn't want to lose sight of them this late in the morning so running off I went all the way two miles back the general direction I had just came from to get a better vantage point. I crawled up the crest of a hill and started to glass a rock ledge 400 yards away. There he was right on top of the cliff, bedded down for his first bed of the day in the sun!

Quickly setting up the spotting scope I began to pick apart the hill looking for other deer and a route I might be able to use to get to him unnoticed. The wind was all wrong for this setup so I waited there for about two hours until the wind slowly began to shift. “Perfect, its go time,” I thought. I went about 200 yards east to glass up a good route to use and he was gone from his lookout point. I knew he couldn't have gone far so I went back to my original position and found him bedded with a doe at the base of the 15 foot cliff and another doe 75 yards east of them. I figured I could come in from the southeast of them and if all went good, not even blow the other doe out of there. I circled back to the east and when I was on the same ridge 200 yards from his position I dropped my pack and took off my boots. On came the ultra-silent wool socks and up the ridge I went with bow in hand. Being new to this area and style of hunting, I hadn't thought of how many small cactus' there would be but I'm sure I stepped on every one I could find. A half hour later, at noon, I found myself on the edge of the cliff with the doe still bedded and his horns in plain sight, 20 yards below! “Now this was exciting!” I thought. Twenty yards from the buck of my dreams and I had all day to wait. After an hour I could hear some serious sneezing going on so I looked up and there he was, standing up, sneezing and shaking his head getting the fly’s out of his nose. With him steeply quartering away I tried to draw back and the bow seemed locked. It wasn’t locked at all; I just had a serious case of buck fever. I knelt

down and gave the string a hard yank and quickly came to full draw. I slowly stood up and waited for him to turn to offer a shot. Two minutes later and still at full draw, I started shaking like crazy and he never moved an inch. He had just caught my movement and swung his big rack around and stared right through me. He looked massive at 20 yards! I figured now or never and touched off the release aiming for his last rib, but the shot was far ahead and missed its mark! I spent the rest of the evening trying to get another glimpse of him with no luck.

I headed back to camp feeling dejected knowing what a huge mistake I had made. I spent the next few hours pulling cactus thorns out of my feet reflecting on the day’s events trying to clear my mind.

The second and third day ended with short glimpses of the big deer, but every time it was just for a moment or in an area where I had no approach, so I had to wait, not wanting to spook him again. On the plus side, I managed to pick up one of his sheds from a previous year which ended up scoring 84” and kept me encouraged that perhaps it was meant to be. The fourth morning I hiked for a couple hours with no big gnarly horn sighting. But I did search in the canyon around my camp and found where he had bedded the day before partway up a chute. From his wallow he had a plain view of me hiking by his north facing vantage point each morning and evening! By this time my already damaged knees were shot and I was having trouble getting around. I headed back to camp to glass from the truck for the evening. The evening was somewhat productive and I managed to find one tall 185 class buck and one 30" wide 180 class buck a few miles from camp, but still no Gnarls.

September 5th was my seventh day out in the hills. I changed my morning route and headed up the north side ridge of the canyon, glassing as I went. Only 200 yards from camp there he was bedded in the same bed as two days prior. With him locked right on me and watching me head up the ridge, I just kept going at normal speed until I was out of sight. I quickly went back to glass through some trees and to formulate a plan.

The wind still was too light, so all I could do was wait for it to

pick up a bit to cover my stalk.

Two hours later the west wind finally picked up and was perfect for a stalk opportunity from the south behind him and I had my chosen spot to ambush from. I did a big mile loop to the other side of the hill he was bedded on. I dropped my pack, took off my boots and on came the ultra-silent cactus thorn filled wool socks. Bow in hand; I began my slow descent down the very steep chute.

A half hour later I covered the 90 yards to my position in an old deer wallow. 10:30 am with the wind blowing straight up the chute into my face and 40 yards downhill to the edge of his wallow. Now all I had to do was wait. Every hour and a half his horns would suddenly appear over the edge of his wallow as he stretched out. I would quickly get ready with bow in hand and wait for him to move. He would then reposition and bed back down with his body hidden the whole time, not offering any shot. He did this three times until the fourth time at 3:30 he began to slowly move downhill and directly away from me. My dream buck was slowly walking away to 60yards, 85yards, 117yards, and I was in complete panic not able to do anything, until he went down into a small drainage with some trees and brush. As soon as his head was behind a tree

I picked up my bow and range finder, half jogged to cover the 100 yards straight at the last spot I seen him. Peeking over the edge of the drainage, there he was broadside at 16yards! I drew back and stood up just as he took a step forward and into some more brush. I repositioned to the left with him at 20 yards, I could see a small opening I could sneak an arrow through. I got to half draw when he took a step back and started walking straight down the drainage away from me. I held tight in the grass as he came up the drainage at 31yards into plain sight.

I drew back quickly and he stopped, quartering away for a nice shot. I released and the arrow buried right behind his left shoulder almost right to the fletching! He then bolted across the drainage like he was hit really well and then started walking into the thick bush right behind my camp, about 200yards away. Not wanting to push him I quickly climbed straight up the ridge behind me to glass the trees below and watch to see if he left the trees. With my hands and legs shaking I made a phone call to my brother to help calm my nerves and give him some more time. Whispering for the next half hour helped me focus on what had just happened and what I should do. A half hour later and the clouds opened up and began to dump. I waited another 15minutes then thought I had better get on his blood trail before the pouring rain washed it all away. 150yards later I was on a great bright red blood trail. A full hour later and 150yards of tracking through the trees I looked up to see his legs behind some sage and he was down for good! Then I looked over to see my tent through the trees. I pulled up the rangefinder and it read 45 yards to the tent! WOW, I couldn’t have planned that any better, and here I was ready to pack him out miles if I had to.

I knelt down beside him and picked his velvet covered rack up out of the grass as a huge smile came across my face. I will cherish that moment forever. After a lot of hooting and hollering, chucking sticks in a complete mess of excitement I setup the tripod and took a ton of field photos and dressed him out, after the mere 25 yard drag. Then I FINALLY got to put a tape to him and came up with 230� as a 12x10, WOW, there was some more hooting, hollering and stick chucking!

After hiking an average of 8 miles each day I really felt like I had truly earned my first archery animal.

I tore down camp in record time and headed for my brothers drilling rig to show the fellas what I had accomplished. One good friend happened to be an ex chef and we had an amazing grave yard shift back strap supper at 2am.

ing and giving me advice when I needed it the most.

Also for my brother for putting up with my crazed phone calls and late night door crashing. Also I would like to thank the landowners so much for letting me camp and hunt on their gorgeous pastureland each year. Without them this never would have been possible with their kind/generous nature. No matter what type of hunt you enjoy whether it is solo or with family or friends and maybe new faces, tree stand, spot and stalk, ground blind, the hunts will always result in new memories and the enjoyment of the outdoors and everything it gives us.

Now I have found a group of hunters, the AWOL guys that The next morning I was off for an hour and a half drive to Prairieland Taxidermy in Pierson Manitoba, to have him shoulder mounted in full velvet and scored for Pope and Young.

Brad Minshull does great work and he did an amazing job bringing this buck back to life so we can honor him on our wall for our lifetime. Brad also quickly green scored him at 233� to confirm my suspicions of his ridiculous score.

Gnarls ended up scoring second largest in the province that year, what a great roller coaster experience!

I've always dreamt of someday getting a trophy, worthy of gracing the pages of the magazine I get to enjoy every 4 months and dream about the amazing hunts printed there. I would like to thank both of my parents introducing me to the great sport of hunt-

have the same hunting passion as I do and same ethics and work hard style I enjoy. We hope we can share some of our experiences and our way of life with you through the eye of our lenses each fall with our new films dedicated to capturing the

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experiences we are thankful to enjoy and if they inspire you to go outdoors or grab a camera then our goal tag is filled. Take care and enjoy, desire and inspire.

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Josh Luster of Northern Legends Taxidermy did an incredible job bringing this legendary Saskatchewan buck back to life. The buck was taken by a local resident near Meadow Lake, Saskatchewan in the 1950’s and was restored in Josh’s shop. The drop tines on the deer are truly one of a kind!

BY: SHELDON TARAPASKI

S

eptember of 2015 was a great month for me, because I was able to spend nearly every day elk hunting! We only missed one day of the season, moving from blind to blind throughout the month, hoping for one of the big bulls to pass by close enough for a shot. Prior to the season, we put in a lot of time and work, and had six blinds built of trees and choke cherry bushes strategically placed in some good locations.

The morning hunt started out like any other hunt, the long walk up the fence line into the area that regularly held elk.

However, we instantly knew this hunt would be different as the piecing echo of a big bull elk bugle cut through the morning air. A few calls later and we had the location roughly pinpointed and we know the bugle was close to our blind that we called the ’24 yard’ blind. It was setup on a fence line with a wheat field on one side, and solid forest on the other side, with a beaten trail on the outside of the forest, at exactly 24 yards from the blind. We quickly made our way into that blind, and noted four different bulls all bugling close by! We thought that our chances were good and surely one bull would find his way down the main trail, giving us a good opportunity. As is so often the case with elk, we heard a large crack as the heavy animals broke a stick, and we knew they were close. We heard the ‘twang’ of the fence and then, from out behind the chokecherry bushes, watched eight cows pass by as they made their way into the field. One large cow stopped in the perfect spot,

and for a moment I considered taking her, knowing the rut was winding down, but I managed to hold off. My mind raced as I wondered, “Is there a bull with all these cows?” As if right on que, answering my question, we heard a huge bugle scream just inside the forest, and exactly where the cows had come from. The thick raspy bugle made the hair on the back of my neck stand up as I fought the nervousness of what may be so close. I held my breath and then I heard the familiar ‘twang’ of an elk jumping the fence. Slowly the bull came into view but he was partially blocked the rear end of a cow that he was closely following. As I peered out the small hole, I could clearly see the shoulder of the big bull and I got the go ahead to take the shot.

I drew, stood up and ‘SMACK’, I watched the arrow disappear into the bulls shoulder. Instantly, he turned and run up the hill, favoring his shoulder where he was hit. I thought, “Oh no, I hit his leg”, as he disappeared over the hill.

We quickly ran up the hill trying to see where he went, but it was solid, thick forest and we couldn’t see a thing. We noticed three cows, then quickly climbed to the very top of the hill for a better view. As we crested the hill, we saw white ivory tips of a big bull in full run, and then he collapsed, hitting the ground and not moving, about 60 yards from us. I felt so much relief, as the forest where he was headed was incredibly thick, and he would have been very hard to find. As we walked up to him, I realized that he was the big 7x7 that we had encountered a

Sheldon Tarapaski of Innisfree, Alberta with the incredible bull elk he harvested in the 2015 season. He only missed one day of the elk season, and put in months of hard work building blinds and scouting in hopes of connecting on a big bull. The monster 7x7 ended up with an unofficial score of 356 1/8” including a biggest base of 13” and a longest main beam of 57” even!

week earlier. His huge eye guards and 13� bases were unmistakable. He was the big herd bull, and had 13 cows with him the day I tagged him!

By the time we got him home and hung in the barn for skinning, all of the neighbors and buddies came over to see him, as some of them had seen him on trail cameras the last couple years. As we dressed the bull, we found my arrow right beside the heart, and saw that I had missed the shoulder bone and severed a bunch of the arteries going to the heart, a perfect boiler room shot! He was a huge animal, with a swollen neck of 44�, and a bruised up body from all the fighting he had to do protecting his harem. I feel very luck to have an opportunity to harvest such an incredibly beautiful animal.

ack to the BY: KAYLA BURNS

unt

I

never imagined that I would be sitting proudly holding a whitetail of this caliber.

Growing up, my father Paul Burns and I would bond while walking in the thick Rocky Mountain trees, searching for grouse. I first began to show interest in hunting because of these outdoor trips with him. I was happy to be a part of one of his first whitetail kills but, as I started to grow older, I became less interested in the sport. Fortunately, after many years had passed, I had a change of heart on the idea and tried to take on the sport once again.

Two years ago I began to grow fond of hunting after feeling the adrenaline of seeing my first coyote hit the ground with my first shot.

Slowly but surely, I got more and more interested in the activity. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was a natural born hunter, it was in my blood (thanks Dad)! On November 22, 2013, I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to harvest my first whitetail buck at about 400 yards. From that moment, I knew then that hunting was going to be a big part of my life.

As the season approached for 2014, I was eager to tag out on my second deer. The winter seemed to drag on at first, but the season’s end was coming faster than I thought it would.

There were many days spent outside searching for a buck worth shooting. Unfortunately, there were no mature bucks to be found. I was disappointed to see the season end with my tags still in hand. Even though I didn’t get the chance at a buck, I was looking forward to the next year.

Kayla Burns began hunting at an early age with her father before leaving the sport, only to return again in 2013. It only took her a couple years to have amazing success, culminating in the downing of a mature Saskatchewan whitetail. The 12” G-2s are the most stiking feature of the buck.

During the summer of 2015, I took my hunting hobby to the next level. My boyfriend, Colten Stock, thankfully took the time to teach me how to use his compound bow. His bow was much too big for me, but with his help I was able to successfully draw back. As I pulled the trigger on the release for the first time, I realized that this was something else that almost came naturally. I loved it! What a thrill. Colten’s eyes widened as we watched my arrow fly into the target. We spent a lot of time together practicing my shooting, and I was extremely happy to see that my groupings were quickly improving. This is when Colten got the bright idea to buy me a mule deer bow tag for the 2015 season. There was a problem though.

He knew his bow was not the right fit for me and I would be unable to shoot a deer with a bow of this size. So one day I was surprised with a wonderful gift. Colten had courteously fixed up his old bow and passed it down to me as my own, along with a new package of arrows and pink broad heads! I was ready for bow season, and I couldn’t have been more excited. Unfortunately, neither of us drew a tag for mule deer, but we were both prepared as well as determined to put in the time and hard work required to harvest a deer with our bows. We spent many days scouting deer and taking pictures from the truck. Many miles were made on foot seeking to find the right deer for either one of us. I had never seen deer like the ones we came across.

On opening day, we spotted a giant mule deer. We quickly got our gear together as we watched him bed down and soon begun my first stalk. I was so excited I could hardly hear anything around me, not even all the noise I was making. With Colten in the lead, he quickly turned around and gave me the gesture to be quieter. We snuck up within 30 yards of the tree in which we were sure he had bedded under. I couldn’t stop thinking to myself, “Wow, my first stalk and I’m going to harvest a deer!” But, I didn’t realize that bow hunting was not that easy! There was no sign of the mule deer, so we couldn’t help but think that we were mistaken about his whereabouts. Sure enough, as we stood up from our kneeling position and made only a few steps, this massive, wide, deep forked buck charged

through the thick sage. It was an extremely close encounter, but sadly we had to watch the buck disappear in the distance.

A few more weeks of hard work passed by but both Colten and I seemed to be unlucky as we left the season empty handed.

A few weeks before whitetail season opened, Colten and I searched for a perfect spot in the woods to begin building a blind. It came together quite nicely and we were excited to put it to use. We set up trail cameras around the area in hopes of capturing a good looking buck that Colten had seen there the previous year, a nice 4 x 5. One afternoon, the sun was shining and the weather was beautiful, so why not put the blind to the test? Quietly, we sat in the soft dirt on the inside of the make shift blind. To our surprise, not even ten minutes later two young bucks came walking by. This only made us more excited for the season to open.

We continued checking our trail cameras throughout the following weeks. Several nice bucks had showed up on the camera. There was a younger 4 x 5 with at least 6 inch brows that we nick named Brows. He was the one that I was planning to set out for. Though we had a few nice bucks coming in, Colten was still set to find the buck that he saw in the area last year.

After a couple weeks with no sign of him, Colten was thrilled to see the gorgeous 5 x 6 buck on his camera. It was the deer he was looking for. “Wow, did he ever grow from last year,” he said when looking at the pictures. I cleverly named this crab clawed main beam buck Sebastian. We regularly checked the cameras hoping that he would stick around but of course, he didn’t. However, another nice buck did. A few days before the season opened, we sighted in my new Tikka rifle, a 7mm. I was so excited to use it for the first time.

The day before season opened, we spotted numerous great bucks. We even saw Brows! He was rutting hard, chasing does and hardly even looked at us. We were happy to see that he was still around! The next day, opening day, we didn’t see much. It was almost like the deer knew it was time to hide. We walked all day with no luck. The first day of the season was in the bag. The second day, we searched again for Brows. As we were headed out in the morning, we spotted some deer from the truck. Colten looked through the spotting scope then looked at me, baffled. I couldn’t believe it, it was Sebastian! We parked the truck and set out on foot trying to get as close as we could.

We walked for about a mile before Colten went off on his own.

It was unfortunate to see him walking back towards me about

an hour later because Sebastian had disappeared. Colten saw him twice during his search, but couldn’t get a clear shot at him. Sadly, day two was over and we were sure we wouldn’t see Sebastian again this season. The third day of white tail season came very quickly. When I woke up on Sunday morning, November 22, 2015, the first thing I said was, “Colten, today is the day.” I figured because this was the same day I had shot my first deer two years ago, there would be some extra luck coming my way.

The first place we looked was where we had saw Sebastian the day before. We were praying he would be there, but un-

fortunately he wasn’t. We traveled for about two miles and spotted a nice, young 4 x 4. We were looking for Brows, but of course were open to other options. I told Colten this wasn’t the one, and we begun walking to the blind.

We had only been walking for a short time before we saw yet another buck at about 250 yards. The fields were busy this morning! This buck was hidden quite well and we couldn’t tell exactly how big the deer was. Colten snapped a quick picture with his camera and told me he was for sure a shooter. I set up my shooting sticks, and looked through my scope. I placed my crosshairs right behind the shoulder and was ready to make a shot. My adrenaline started pumping and my heart was pounding.

I took a deep breath as I slowly pulled my trigger. Colten looked at me and smiled as the deer hit the ground. It was then that Colten got the idea it could have been Sebastian, but I refused to believe him.

Both of us ran up to the area the buck dropped, Colten headed to the left and I headed to the right. Colten saw the deer before I did and yelled at me to quickly come over to him. As I walked up to the buck I burst into tears. It was Sebastian! I made a perfect shot on him, dropping him in his tracks. What an unreal feeling it was to walk up to such an amazing buck.

I jumped and danced in joy of accomplishing a buck of a life-

time. I simply couldn’t believe it. Proudly and jokingly Colten exclaimed, “You shot my deer!”

He was almost as excited as I was. Brows got lucky this day, but I was even luckier. Before we began to tag my buck, Colten was able to snap some beautiful field photos. I am so thankful is an experience I will never forget. I couldn’t be any happier about my second whitetail deer, truly a buck of a lifetime.

I would like to thank the landowners for granting us permission to hunt on their land, Kevin Stock for helping skin and dress him and Ken Duncalfe for a great job on the shoulder mount.

I would also like to thank Chad Wilkinson for the opportunity to be featured in Big Game Illustrated. Most importantly, I would like to thank Colten Stock for guiding me through the hunting season, making memories I will cherish forever, and helping me accomplish such an incredible deer. I can’t wait to do it all over again next year!

Taylor Sliva and his girlfriend Shelby both hunted hard for a buck they named Rummy. The pair ran trail cameras, scouted relentlessly, and even picked up a matched set of sheds over the years as they built a history with the big deer. Finally, in 2015 it all cam together and Taylor anchored the 166 4/8� mature Saskatchewan whitetail.

The Story of

Rummy By: Taylor Sliva

S

helby and I were raised in the small town of Preeceville, Saskatchewan It is a smaller town with a population of approximately one thousand people. Shelby and I love the area and continue to live and work in beautiful eastern Saskatchewan. Since the day I was born, I have had a craving for the outdoors, and specifically a burning a passion for hunting whitetail deer! It wasn’t until Shelby and I started dating in 2009 that she too developed a passion for hunting. When I realized that hunting was a sport we were able to enjoy together, I was even more excited about it and it added a whole new dynamic to the activity.

The story of Rummy began in 2013 when I setup on a piece of farm land where I had noticed a lot of deer activity throughout the year. I hung a trail camera in mid-October, but all I was able to capture on my trail camera were a few small bucks and does. In the middle of November, we started to get photos of a buck that really caught our eye. We were both very excited to have a good quality buck visiting our stand and this gave us enough drive to get out and sit for him. I was busy with farm work and didn’t have enough time to sit much that year, so Shelby sat in the blind for the first time on her own since she had started hunting. She sat multiple days for many hours, in some bitterly cold weather. The cold didn’t deter her and she continued to sit, hoping he would show up in the daylight

hours. The time and dedication she put in for this deer was when her passion for hunting whitetail began to truly show through. Unfortunately, she never got the chance to see the buck in the flesh before the 2013 season came to an end. For as long as we had photos of him, we never did get a daylight photo. In the beginning of February 2013, I went out on my snowmobile to haul some more feed for the deer. I wasn’t sure if I was seeing things when I was driving along the trail and seen a dark object lying in a deer bed. I knew instantly that it was his shed. I couldn’t believe my eyes! The physical existence of his very own shed in my hands was enough to keep him on our minds until the next season.

At the start of the 2014 season, we decided that this mature buck, so special to us, needed a name. We came up with the name “Rummy” because of the quarter of land we first captured pictures of him on was named just that. The 2014 season started early for us. I had setup in the same spot, but this time in early July. Again, it started with a few pictures of does and smaller bucks in velvet. Every time we checked that camera there was always that hope of seeing “Rummy” back on the camera. We ran the camera all year long and as November rolled around, we had pretty much came to the conclusion that “Rummy” never made the winter, or was the victim to road kill or coyotes. With the wind out of our sails, it wasn’t until the second last day in the 2014 deer season that he showed up on camera almost two miles away from where he was the previous year! Our jaws dropped as we seen his tall tines, the same sticker on his G2 and the same crooked G4 on his right side.

We knew it was Rummy! He had put on a few extra inches of bone too. We hadn’t checked this camera until the season was over, so we had no opportunity to hunt him at all that season, but we learned a valuable lesson.

ter. It wasn't until late after the season, which was mid-January, that for the first time ever, the elusive “Rummy” started to show up in daylight on our camera. At almost the same time as the previous year, “Rummy” lost his horns in early February. Again, I was fortunate enough to find his right shed when walking deer trails near the bait. After finding that shed, I was determined to find his other side! It was two days later when both Shelby and I had gone back out to drop more feed that we went for another walk along the trails looking for sheds. Shelby was fortunate enough to find his left side shed just off the trail, approximately one hundred yards from my camera right on one of the trails that I had walked many times in the past two days! Shelby was definitely proud to rub that one in my face.

Nonetheless, we were both ecstatic that Rummy was still alive after the deer season. To top it off, we had both of his sheds from that year. We thought that we had found his stomping grounds and we were both optimistic that we would have him on camera early in the season next year. Little did we know, we were in for a big surprise!

The summer of 2015, after a busy season of seeding, found me back where “Rummy” was the season before. I tried everything. I planted alfalfa and peas around the site hoping this would lure him in, and researched and put into use a multitude of attractants and mineral supplements to entice the big guy in.

It wasn't until September 1, 2015, that we finally got a picture of a beautiful tall heavy buck with the same kicker on the G2 and the crooked G4 that we knew once again was Rummy. To add to the excitement, this was the opening day for archery season in our area. We couldn't believe the buck had outsmarted all elements of danger in the previous season and he was

back again to tempt us! He was on our camera and he appeared on camera in the middle of the night. It didn't take more than a few hours after checking the card that we had the blind set up and brushed in, waiting for him to come in during daylight hours! Once again, he had pulled a quick one on us. Believe it or not, that was the only picture we got from him all year long at that spot. After pulling my hair out every time I checked the camera with no luck, I knew I had to expand my hunting area to find him. Come early October, I had put out yet another camera in a different location and different direction from where I had tried so far. In early October, it all changed for us.

With disbelief, there he was again! Tall tines, same kicker, same crooked G4, it was Rummy at our new spot! As usual, there he was visiting only in the dark. We had our blind set up early and thought we were more than ready! As our luck changed for the better as October went on, he started to show up closer and closer to daylight hours, without missing one night. It wasn't until mid-November that in our complete disbelief, we got a

broad daylight picture of “Rummy” at our spot! Neither of us could believe what we were seeing as we checked the camera just days before the season.

Opening morning of the 2015 deer season was November 20th, and there was little sleep to be had in our house! I kept tossing and turning with excitement and anticipation. Opening day Shelby had to work and I was fortunate enough to be able to get the time off work for the day. I was settled in the blind well before daylight with my bow, patiently waiting. As the sun rose, the anticipation did to. I didn’t see a single deer in the first four hours of daylight, so I got out of the blind for some lunch.

After warming up and having a bite to eat, I got back into the blind early in the afternoon to sit. And once again, I did not see a single deer in my afternoon sit. I started to think maybe something had happened to him. A million scenarios raced through my mind as I tried to occupy my thoughts. “Maybe he is gone?!

Maybe he is dead!? Maybe I spooked him off!? What did I do wrong!?” The day ended without any excitement.

On the second day of season we didn’t have the best wind for our archery blind so we figured it was best to back up to the rifle stand we had previously set up in a little different direction. The second day of the season Shelby was able to sit in the rifle blind to go after her nemesis in the morning.

She was settled well before daylight. As the sun rose, she saw one small buck and a couple does, which I was surprised and relieved to hear, after not seeing a single deer the day before. It wasn't until mid-morning that I received the text from her that Rummy had come through chasing does and left as quick as he came! Only presenting her with a facing away shot that I am very proud she never took. I was more than excited because it was the first time either of us had ever laid eyes on him. It was bitter sweet because Shelby was so frustrated in herself for not getting a shot at him as he came in. She came in from the blind just before noon for some food and a warmup. That afternoon she had planned to attend a fundraiser in our town so it was once again my turn to return to the blind in hopes of catching sight of him again. With the morning excitement still fresh in my mind, I was reenergized to get back in the blind. I was back in and sitting around two P.M., which was what I thought was early. After walking in and spooking a doe off the bait, I got settled into my blind for what I thought was going to be a long afternoon sit. Not even a half hour of siting, three does entered the bait who acted real skittish. As soon as I seen them looking back consistently, I got excited. Sure enough, as I looked far back in the direction they came from, there he stood! It was finally him; Rummy! The moment I had been waiting for three long years! He came in through the heavy cover headed straight towards the does that were feeding at the bait. No sooner than I got my rifle out and ready did the does run off the bait and “Rummy” stopped dead in his tracks and turned around and walked off! As quick as it had happened, it all ended! The next

thing I knew there wasn’t a deer in my sight. There I was in my blind thinking that I just missed my one and only opportunity that I would get with this big old buck. Disappointment, frustration and anger filled my mind. I now personally understood Shelby’s similar frustration she had experienced only hours before. It wasn’t fifteen minutes later that the does reentered the bait from the same area they had left. I kept glancing over to the general direction where “Rummy” had just walked off previously. To my surprise, there he was, headed straight to the bait with his head down sniffing for the does. This time I was as ready as I ever was! I could not believe it as he walked dead straight to the bait and into the opening through the shooting lane we had cut in October. A gentle squeeze on the trigger and my shot fired. I watched him run off and I knew that the story of “Rummy” had finally come to a close. At about three P.M., I called Shelby in complete disbelief to tell her that I had just killed him! It took all the will power I had not to run after him and ensure that he was dead. I went back to the truck and picked up Shelby and my bike. When we returned to the bait

site, which had an obvious blood trail nearby. It wasn’t more than fifty yards later that we both came across what we thought was a dream! A buck we had been after for three long, grueling and frustrating, but truly dedicated years! A buck that we had both spent so much time and effort hunting! A buck that we both thought we would never get! There is no feeling that can replace that moment when all your hard work and patience pays off!

Some hunters find gratification in the pictures they hang on their walls, the mounts that display the physical representation of their hard work, or the trophy of their sheds; but Shelby and I had so much more than that! We were able to share a deep and dedicated history with this buck, had put in endless hours of baiting and checking cameras, waited to capture at least one quick picture of him, sat for multiple hours in harsh elements, changed bait sites, and had the amazing opportunity to find his very own sheds!! These things were all a form of pride for us; something we shared together and not something that many can truly understand!

Expect th Unex Aimee Murray is from Port Dover, Ontario, but now calls Quesnel, BC home and that is where she fulfilled a dream of taking a monster BC bull moose! Her big bull was just over 1200 pounds, and had worn his teeth right down, showing the age of an old bull. Her bull ended up just over 50� wide and now hangs high up in her home, reminder her of the incredible hunt every day.

he

xpected By: Aimee Murray

G

rowing up in a small town in Ontario on the edge of Lake Erie didn’t allow much experience in the world of hunting. In fact, I was not a hunter until I met my husband. While we were dating, his passion for hunting soon became apparent, and eventually I began to share that passion.

Over the last ten years, I have been fortunate to partake in numerous hunts and I am gradually accumulating a collection of my own that currently includes a British Columbia record book black bear and a Wyoming antelope that I got on our “hunting” moon, aka honeymoon.

“Honey, do you want to shoot a moose this year?” my husband, Shawn asked as he was getting packed to go out guiding for a few weeks. “Of course I want to shoot a moose,” was my immediate response! I have a couple of moose already under my belt, and to me nothing quite compares to hunting moose. An added benefit is that around our house, moose meat is a staple. But having the time to actually hunt is one of the biggest challenges for me. With two kids, working, and a husband that is often away working or guiding, it wasn’t looking like I was going to have time to fill my tag.

However, I also knew it only takes one moose in the right place at the right time and I would try if I had the opportunity! So, with my mind made up, we agreed that once Shawn was back, we would make a go for it.

A few weeks later, he was headed pack home since his hunters had filled their tags. However,as they were leaving their hunting territory, they spotted a nice bull out in the meadow, but since his hunter’s tag were filled, all they could do was look and admire. That afternoon, we headed out for a quick hunt with the kids but didn’t see anything. The following day, I was off work, so we dropped the kids off early at Grandma’s and

headed out before daylight. We headed back to the meadow where they’d spotted the bull the previous day. We found a good spot to get setup, then we sat and waited. It was a beautiful morning, cold, frosty, morning. Just the kind of morning where you can imagine a big bull coming out into the open.

It was looking very promising. Two hours passed, and there was still nothing. My high hopes were fading quickly since I knew our prime morning time hunting was ending. Finally, over in the far right corner of the meadow, as my heart skipped a beat a cow walked out. I could barely spot her since I couldn’t see over the willows, but Shawn watched her feed for about 20 minutes before she decided to saunter off. We decided to change locations and headed back to the truck. On our way we found a nice set of moose sheds. “This could be an omen of what is to come”, I thought.

Once we were back at the truck we headed east, but then got held up due to some brush blocking the road. It was obvious that no one had been up this road in a while, so I knew for sure that it was the one I wanted to take! After cutting a few trees off the road, we were on our way. We continued another kilometer up the bush road.

This road provided a good vantage point to the logging block below, and as luck would have it, we suddenly spotted three moose in the slash below. As they made their way across the block, we suck out of the truck and started our sneak. Well, it was more like a sneaky crouching jog. We found a big dirt pile to get set up on. At this point, I hadn’t even had a chance to focus on which moose I was going to take. I just knew that with three moose, chances were pretty good that I would have some moose steaks to cook in the near future! I never dreamed I was moments away from getting the trophy of a lifetime! As we got

in position on the dirt pile, we anticipated they were heading for the tree line so I knew it was time to take a shot. It was at this point I caught a glimpse of the one I was going to aim for.

He was far bigger than any moose I had spied in my scope before. And while it was the meat that I was after, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a trophy. I fired a shot, but didn’t connect. My heart was racing now, because I was afraid he was going to be lost in the trees at any moment. I had to get closer! We continued our sneaky jog closer and were conveniently hidden from the moose by a large log pile. It was at this point that I knew it was now or never. As I got into position Shawn got the camcorder ready but I realized I was setup too low because I couldn’t use my bipods. I was shooting my Browning Xbolt .243 and wanted to ensure I had an absolutely steady shot. I repositioned on a mound that allowed my bipod to be set lower and felt confident I had a secure position to take aim.

As I spotted him in my scope, all I saw was antlers, BIG antlers.

I knew I had to calm myself down and focus on a proper kill shot, but his body was behind a habitat tree. I had to wait for him to clear the cut tree. It felt like an eternity before he turned broadside and presented me with a good target, but finally he made his way past the cut trees and with a thumbs up from my husband, I fired. It was a clean, solid shot. I didn’t think he needed another but with him still standing, I figured why take the chance. I fired once more and with that he dropped down.

As I approached this magnificent animal, I was at a loss for

Hamilton Greenwood Photo

words! He far exceeded my expectations and the overall experience of this hunt will not be surpassed. As I headed home, reflecting on the day, I had no idea what would be in store for me a few weeks later. I was also lucky enough to take a five by

six mulie buck, my largest deer to date. My 2015 hunting season will be one that I doubt will be outdone, however I’ve also learned to expect the unexpected and can’t wait for my next hunt!

GERONIMO GERONIMO The Story of

BY: CHRISTIAN LEVATTE

I

n order to appreciate this story, you have to understand its origins. Cape Breton is a small island broken from the mainland on the east coast of Canada in Nova Scotia. It is surrounded by the harsh northern Atlantic Ocean and is the north east limit of the whitetails range. The whitetails are not native to the island, they migrated and adapted to the harsh climate with its rocky shores and salty wind, not unlike the people proud enough to call themselves ‘Capers’. Al-

though our landscape is by no means prime habitat, all species that call Cape Breton home show the upmost tenacity and survivability skills. Cape Breton’s deer numbers are quite low when considering less than 200 whitetail bucks are registered annually, and an average buck is a spike or small four point. This background is not to make the story seem more impressive; it is to convey the message that it should convey.

Flashback to October 2011. It was when I was just spreading my wings as a deer hunter, learning from my mentor Wayne Chaission, and looking to get my first buck on my own. My family is in the landscaping business and has a sod farming operation where I chose to start my scouting. I setup a trail camera in a great spot that I found down across our fields, and down a porter trail where I had located a fairly heavy traffic game trail. For weeks I checked my camera before and after my university classes, only finding a doe with a fawn frequenting my spot. With just three days to go until opening day rifle season, I turned on my viewer and with a grin and a fist pump I celebrated seeing my buck, a four year old 160 class nine point that was tall wide and had a distinctive triangle shaped g2 on his right side. A Monster in my books for what ever reason while flipping through a dozen pictures of this giant I instantly came to the name ‘’ Geronimo”. In the euphoria, I mumbled, “That’s my buck, Geronimo!’’ Now any experienced whitetail hunter knows, ‘My Buck’ is a phrase often followed by disappointment and most veteran hunters may consider it arrogant, but I believe it played a key role in harvesting the buck. Traditionally, hunters build makeshift wooden tree stands to ambush the deer in our area, so I got to work, with chainsaws screaming and the pounding of nails all day I had a stand with a lawn chair and

O Christian LeVatte lives in Sydney in Nova Scotia, hardly an area well known for whitetails. In fact, the entire Cape Breton area has less than 200 whitetails registered as harvested annually! Despite this, there is a dedicated group of outdoorsman in the area that Christian is a part of. Christian’s big deer is a solid buck anywhere, and he was ecstatic when he put the big deer down. The twelve point buck was a mature deer and no doubt improved the gene pool in the area for years to come! a shooting rest! I was done.

Opening day came and went with no shots fired. Weeks passed by and there were no pictures of the stud Geronimo, only the fork buck that accompanied him just weeks before. I scouted around the farm with no sure sign of ‘my buck’. I didn’t see a single sign of him for weeks and I started to lose hope.

I couldn’t find a buck anywhere, let alone ‘my buck’! Soon enough, my 4:30 alarm woke me up on last day. I peeled myself out of bed and hit the stand. Again, with no deer in sight,

around 10am I got a call from Wayne. He asked if I wanted to head back and sit at an old stand we set up years previous. ‘’Ok, I’ll be right over, pick me up on the quad’’. I figured I had failed in my goal of taking ‘my buck’, so I might as well make a good day of it hunting with my buddy!

I climbed into the old stand and remember thinking, “This is one of the only November days I remember with snow on the ground.” I sat in my old stand for 45 minutes until I head a crunch, and a six point, two year old buck entered my clearing.

I wasted no time, taking him with my .308! Wayne was ecstatic when I called and pretended it wasn’t my shot he heard, before letting him know the good news. This is a story I cherish, as it was a last minute coincidental buck with the man who showed me my first buck five years before.

The 2011 season was over and as die hard whitetail hunters do, the next day I started the 2012 season, trying to find those rutting trails deep in the timber where they were harder to locate recognize earlier in the season. The 2012 season showed some up and comer bucks on our farm but no sign of the monster Geronimo who I knew would be one year older and one year bigger! In a small town, I expected I’d hear of a buck of this caliber getting taken by another lucky hunter. The 2012 season came and went with no sign of ‘my buck’.

The scouting process started again for the 2013 season. In the summer of 2013, my families company invested in a new farm 10 kilometers north of where I found ‘’my buck’’. I planted food plots and was becoming much more serious and educated about pursuing my prey. I was no longer clearing forests with noisy saws, and I was learning to play the wind, employ scent control, and utilize calling and other more advanced methods of hunting. I had also taken to the art of videoing my hunts.

In September, 2013 I began to scout the new farm and a re-

generating five year old hardwood forest caught my eye and sure enough, it was full of rubs and game trails. I hung my stand, and trail camera and left it for weeks, as long as I possibly could.

In October, I returned with my muzzleloader. It was the first muzzleloading season in Nova Scotia in history. On my camera, there were many deer including young bucks, dry does, and a 140’’ typical ten point who became my plan B, although I was still hoping Geronimo would show on my original stand location despite not having a glimpse of him in two years now.

General season had opened and two weeks in, it was that magical time of year we all wait and pray for, the rut! Every whitetail hunter knows that suspenseful feeling during the rut, you just want to be out there, have to be out there. It is the very rare time these high IQ bucks make those low IQ mistakes and at any moment your buck could make his mistake.

It was the first frosty morning of the season, “It could happen today everything is perfect,” I thought as I turned the stealth to level 10, sneaking into my stand. At first light, I began some calling sequences, first a doe in estrus bleat followed five minutes later by a young buck grunt, trying to create some non-intimidating competition. After a few of these sequences I heard a crack 40 yards upwind and then I saw it, nothing but main

beams and tines coming through the swampy alders into my shooting lane! Not caring to identify the buck, I immediately decide “Shooter”, its game on! I swing my camcorder over as this was not where I expected his grand entrance. After fumbling for what feels like forever, I find him in the frame, swing a few yards in front of him to give myself time to bring my rifle up. I give a quick, low click from my mouth to stop the buck and there he is, 40 yards in my camera frame and my crosshair steady on his shoulder! My trigger breaks and the buck is hit.

He runs as best he can but two follow up chest shots put him down quickly. On the third shot, I saw him fold and knew he was down! My camera panned over to film my own reaction where, for 3 minutes, I repeat ‘big buck down’ only separated by deep gasps for air! I climbed down from my stand still shaking from adrenaline as I approached my buck. I set up my camera to catch my reaction and as I laid hands on his rack I couldn’t help but pause and recognize the massy main frame 9. “It’s him! It’s My Buck, Its GERONIMO!” I yelled. When the

rush wears off it’s the oddest feeling, the moment you wanted so bad came and has gone. The buck you chased for so long is dead. Countless miles, hours, so much effort and three bullets closes a chapter on an animal you’ve now gained so much respect and admiration for. ‘My buck’ is a term that taught me so much. It taught me to keep going because every day I didn’t shoot him, I didn’t get ‘my buck’. Every time I checked the cameras, ‘my buck’ wasn’t on it and every season I didn’t get ‘my buck’ just doubled my drive and fueled my tenacity to get ‘my buck’. My buck was never my buck at all, he is his own creature, more similar to us then you or I might light to admit. But one thing I know is you can’t get him at home, and although almost all hope was lost, there he was, one morning after being missing for two years! How and why? We’ll never know, but that’s not what’s important. Giants still roam. If you go hunting, you too will have the story of “My buck”.

In loving memory of Wayne Chaission .

www.saskbowhunters.ca

The

ONE BY: BRANDEN BLOMME

Branden Blomme with one of the most impressive mule deer you will ever see! The southwest Saskatchewan megabuck stretches the tape with an incredible outside spread of 35 3/8�! The buck actually broke off droptines, but that did nothing to detract from the stunning antlers. Branden worked hard and had a slow start to the season with very few buck sightings before connecting on a tru buck of a lifetime, thanks largely to his sister, neice and nephew who tipped him off about the buck! The incredible buck ended up with a net non-typical score of 224 2/8�.

“

I am not sure what made me

happier, the sheer beauty and character of this old mature deer or the smiles and excitement coming from my Dad and niece and nephew. “

I

went into the 2015 hunting season with high hopes around my mule deer tag. I had drawn a coveted muley tag, but with a very busy summer and fall, scouting and archery season were almost non-existent. Finally, it started to cool down and I had some time to dedicate to finding a good ol mature muley. However, as quickly as my excitement grew with the draw tag, it also began to disappear with the low deer numbers and non-existent mature bucks!

That all changed on November 10, after receiving a call from my sister Shannon. Her and her two kids, Tiara and Tygh, were on their way home from Alberta when they spotted a giant mule deer buck! That night, I didn’t get much sleep due to the text pictures of the monster deer my sister and her kids had found on their way home from Alberta. After so much searching with no luck of finding the one, I was certain that they had found THE ONE, and the hunt was on!

As the sun rose, Dad and I found a high hill to do some glassing from. We scoured the frosty hillsides and gorges that we could finally see through the lifting fog. Dad had noticed two small bucks fighting around in the ravine. I quickly glassed in the same direction and my jaw dropped. “There he is,” I blurted out a little too loudly. Walking into the clearing, I realized that the pictures that my sister and her kids sent me definitely didn’t do him justice. I remember saying, “I don’t care if his typical frame is all there, he is huge!” Dad and I quickly surveyed the situation and came up with a plan of attack. We couldn’t get over his frame as he was roaming around the valley like he owned it, lip curling and herding his does.

We then saw two other decent sized bucks step out, but as soon as the old Monarch started to strut towards them, they both quickly ran off. It was very clear that he owned the valley and nobody would challenge him.

We called my sister Shannon and her kids to tell them to get ready for the hunt. As we raced to Shannon’s, all I could think about was the huge deer, and the fact that I just left him. But I quickly remembered how excited the kids were to tell me about the deer. I knew the right thing to do was to make sure that they were alongside me on this hunt. After what seemed like forever, getting two kids ready, we arrived back to where we last seen him. I gave the kids a strict, ‘no fighting, and be VERY quiet’ rule, but I knew this was going to be the hardest part of the hunt. Everything was unfolding perfectly as we reached the top of the butte. I started crawling into ravine where we last seen him. Tygh frantically whispered behind me, “There’s a doe.” I could hear my Dad telling Tygh to calm down when all of the sudden, the monster rose from a weed patch on top the hill . It was this moment that I knew we were busted. We were at 150 yards, in the wide open, having a stare off with one of the biggest deer I’ve ever laid eyes on. I could only see from his throat up as there was a rolling hill and patchy sage brush in my view. I was on one knee trying to stay calm with the cross hairs weaving around his neck. He started to step out towards us, head up, nose sniffing the air and chest puffed out proudly. He lowered his head and came toward me as if he was challenging me. He sky lined and the incredible sight made my heart skip. Finally, I had a clear look at his antlers and I thought, “Its times like this I wish I would have had a camera rolling to capture moments that you know will be replay in

filled with poplars. Out of breath, I reached a long narrow point that overlooked the center of the canyon. Out came a few coyotes, a few does, and then a good mature whitetail buck.

My heart sank and my guts turned in disappointment. “What just happened, what a stupid mistake,” I thought. I could hear my niece and nephew running to catch up. “Did I ever just let them down,” I thought. Suddenly rocks started tumbling down to the creek, and we could hear the frantic sound of trees snapping. He was trying to make his getaway through the creek bottom, he was swaying his head trying to get through the bush.

There was an opening about 100 yards away and I knew that I had a chance, but if he made it through there, he would be gone forever. I followed him with the cross hairs as he weaved through the creek bottom and was approaching the clearing on the hillside. As soon as his chest cleared the trees the 7mm rang out a second time. There was no debris hit this time, just a solid THWACK. He dropped hard and started sliding down the hill, taking out a fence post before disappearing into the bottom. Tygh and I quickly made our way around the coulee to make sure he wasn’t still going. Tiara and my Dad went down the coulee where we last seen him go in. A few minutes later, we heard the excited shouts and cheers coming from the bottom of the coulee. Tygh and I went down the coulee as fast as we could. My heart was racing like never before! As I lifted the antlers up out of the brush I was in complete awe of the mass, your mind a million times.” I slid into prone position to steady myself for the shot. “One more step, just one more,” I thought. I settled the cross hairs dead center between his legs as he stared me down.

KABOOM, followed by the sound of a ricochet! As I looked above my scope I realized I was living my worst nightmare. I just blew the heck out of the sage brush 100 feet in front of me! I didn’t pick up on the roll of the land when I laid down. Everything was clear when I was on one knee, but not so much laying prone.

I quickly jumped up and headed in his direction as he slipped into a huge canyon

and the width. Dad commented, “well, outsmarted another one Sonny!” I am not sure what made me happier, the sheer beauty and character of this old mature deer or the smiles and

excitement coming from my Dad and niece and nephew. I was glad I had taken the time to include them in the hunt, after all it was them who had found ‘The One’.

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BY: KAARE GUNDERSON

I

am absolutely consumed these days with fish, specifically big pike, it’s like they are my “new whitetails”. I know this is a hunting magazine and I was asked to contribute regularly on whitetails but in following up to my most recent article and how I was going to share what was happening in my season I must discuss fishing. It is what my family and I have been doing almost every weekend and when school ends for the year and I hang up my whiteboard marker, it’s what we will do almost daily through the first 20 days or so of July. It was without question, my first love, and for a chapter in life I was doing it very little. I suppose it was a perfect storm of life timing that contributed to that, University, a new job, no boat, they all factored in. Six years ago I bought a boat and since then it has been an incredible ride with countless unforgettable moments.

Before proceeding, allow me to mention that even with this current summer time obsession, whitetails never fully leave my brain and tonight I will swap my first trail camera card of the year. That first card swap is always exciting.

Once the snow finally melted I wrapped up a great shed season with some memorable trips. Never have I really had a shed hunting buddy, my whitetail pursuits have turned into solitary efforts the past 15 years or so but this year I spent time with two, my sons. We had our moments, days in the sun, moments we were second to none. On one occasion we simply “mopped them up” scooping roughly 25 bones in 3 hours! On another we found an absolute giant, sure it was old, but it was off a buck I once knew and even have a couple of fresh sheds from,

it looked like an elk shed laying in the open as my boy Tait and I spied it from 100 yards. We decided that there likely was not a larger whitetail shed picked up in Saskatchewan that day.

Even if that is not true, we decided we were kings for that day.

Moose sheds always seem to elude me despite spending time shed hunting where the moose sign is off the charts, but on another occasion, while separated by extremely thick hazel brush up on some high terrain brushy flats I heard an excited yell. “I found a moose shed, and it’s fresh, and it’s pretty nice.” In making my way over to the sound of Reid’s voice I spotted yet another bone matching that same description laying under a lone spruce tree. Even though it was our very first father/son match on fresh moose sheds, I do realize that it could also be our last.

Those days were special moments and I most definitely realize that. The outdoors, for those who spend time in them, they can bring so much joy.

But eventually, the leaves, they popped out, winter rolled into spring and shed hunting was once again over for another season, time waits for nobody. And during these months of May, June, July and August there is not a whole bunch I can do when it comes to my ensuing hunting season. I can practice with my weapon, as any good hunter should, we owe a clean kill to the game we pursue. I can and I will scout. I will view trail camera images, I will set up some blinds or stands, even refresh some salt licks but I most definitely cannot do enough in relation to whitetails to keep nearly as preoccupied with them these days as I am with fishing. I have put a lot of time

and effort into hunting deer over the years and have a pretty good grasp of what I can expect come fall so I simply will not let it consume me at this time of year anymore. Eventually, I think we all get to that point when we put enough of our self into something, we plateau.

So when I referred earlier to fishing as my “new whitetails”, I simply meant something I was thinking about all of the time, something I was deeply passionate about, something I wish to get better at and like in hunting, the only way to get better, is to learn more, try new things, make mistakes and have successes. Much like the 20 year old me was pouring whitetail information into my brain, I am reading Gord Pyzer articles on pike fishing, he is a fishing god in case you did not know.

I am staring at instagram photos and following fishing related accounts. Like a teen I am watching youtube videos and like 20 years ago with whitetail tactics and equipment, I am keeping up to date with the latest trends in tackle and lures. Even as an old dog, I am learning.

In reality, there is much similar when it comes to hunting whitetails and chasing big pike, in my eyes anyway. Monster bucks are not a dime a dozen, nor are jumbo pike over that 20 pound mark. You simply do not put the net around a 40” plus fish with much more regularity than you see a booner on each hunt. Whitetails are found in a vast variety of habitats ranging from heavy boreal forest all the way to native prairie and everything in between. Big pike also thrive in a variety of habitats.

We find them in cabbage beds, on giant sand flats, rock piles and steep drop offs. I once read a Jim Shockey quote that stated, “a big buck spot is a big buck spot is a big buck spot……..”

I think I can say the same about pike, they like structure, the spot on the spot. Like whitetails, their habits and behaviour is often dictated by external factors, such as temperature, time of year, and obviously, food. I once discussed with my son Reid this spring about how it would be if like in hunting one could only catch one per year. Would we run underwater trail cameras at strategic locations like we do for deer? Would we use that information to tell us when the time was right to target our one catch of the year? Where would be the best places on the lake we fish most often to set those cameras? We decided we would, but also, that being able to catch and release as many big females as we can hook up with, is a better deal for us. The only thing that may make it better would be if those pike grew antlers, and they shed them the moment we got them in the net.

And a great deal it has been for us so far. Aside from the countless small fish, average fish and nice fish, we have put a couple real dandies in the boat, one off of sand, the other out of cabbage and there will be more, I can just feel it. When you figure out patterns and start to put puzzle pieces together in fishing, just like in hunting, you just know your odds for success get higher and higher. Those moments, captured on camera from a boat are much like those when everything finally comes together hunting and you can proudly pose for a photo with your buck.

“Got One”, “Fish On”, “That’s Weight”, those phrases, they seem to keep ringing from my boat, much like “found one” and “I got another”, did while we shed hunted this spring. I

simply cannot imagine having it any better when it comes to raising my kids. I know it sounds cliché’, but they are cool.

They notice the osprey above. They spot the bear working its way through bulrushes along the shore. They appreciate the beautiful colour of a golden walleye and the different markings on each big pike, just like capes and throat patches on the deer in our basement. They recognize which sheds are from which deer. Simply put, they appreciate nature and all of its wonder.

It makes me proud. They are 100 times the sportsman I was at their age. I had not picked up great sheds, I had not released countless big fish, I knew nothing of conservation. They have and they do.

The summer of 2014 started it all for James Miller and his Father. That was the first time they spotted the nontypical giant that would consume their lives after that. The pair hunted the monster buck incessantly after that and their persistence paid off when James connected with the XXX� buck in October of 2016. It is truly a once in a lifetime buck with over XXX� of abnormal points.

The

FREAK!

T

By: James Miller

his story began in the summer of 2014. It was early August and my father and I were out roaming around the property, glassing fields with our binoculars like we always do before season. We were seeing several deer feeding in a bean field, including a few nice bucks at one end of the field and a few does at the other end. We made several trips to the area every evening, watching and glassing. One evening in mid-August, we were once again setting along the edge of the lane, watching the field but were not seeing much. The sun started going down over the trees and the deer started pouring out into the beans to feed. We watched them as they all worked their way across the field. The light was starting to fade, but I took one look the other direction in the back of the field and there stood a giant! I did not need the binoculars to tell this was a Big'n. Dad and I couldn't believe what we were looking at. I told him, “this is the deer I wanted to put my tag on!� Day after day we headed out, watching for the giant, but we couldn't get on him again till right before the 2014-2015 season started.

We were watching over the same field we saw him in once before and sure enough, as the sun was going down, he stepped out to give us another look but this time he came closer to us so we could get a better look. We were amazed by the mass and just the sheer number of points! I knew he was the biggest non-typical buck I had ever seen, by a mile!

When the 2014-15 hunting season started, my plan to hunt the giant was to try to get him before the rut kicked in because there's no telling where he would have been come then. I stuck to my guns, hunting between one of two stands on each side of the woodlot where we had watched him. I hunted several times leading up into October, but hadn't had any luck seeing the buck. I passed some deer that I probably shouldn't have while I was waiting on him, but I knew he was around somewhere.

Mid October rolled around and I still hadn't seen him. One evening I decided to head out a little bit earlier than I normally do. I had a south east wind which was perfect for my stand on the north side of the woods. I got up in my stand, got com-

fortable and knew I had several hours till the sun set so I just kicked back and waited. It got to be late in the evening and still I had not seen a single deer until about sunset when a big eight point with a few smaller bucks came out in the edge of the beans, feeding with a few does. The bucks worked their way out in the beans in front of my stand and the big 8 point kept looking back from where he had come. All of a sudden there he was, standing there at 90 yards in the edge of the beans! If you want to talk about buck fever, that was it right there! As soon as the other bucks saw him, they ran to the other end of the field, the giant just continued feeding out in the field within a hundred yards of me. I was standing in awe, with my bow in hand, but could not take a shot because he was too far out and eventually he worked his way to the other end of the field as it was getting dark. That was the only encounter of the bow season, but it left me with a memory burned in my mind and a desire to finish the story.

The 2014-15 gun season began with Dad and I completely focused on trying to tag the brute. We hunted all week and finally, on the second to last day of gun season, had an encounter. We were walking back to our stand from the lane, and as we started down the hill, going out in the field, a group of deer came out of the woods and started across the field. Dad and I hunkered down in a patch of grass. They deer were about 200 yards away. The first group of deer made their way across the field and a second group started out into the field, even closer to us. There were a few bucks in the group but nothing we wanted to shoot. We sat there a few minutes longer and a doe came busting out in the field and there he was behind her! It was him, but at about 200 yards, there was nothing we could do. at that point but hope the doe would run our way and he would follow but it never happened. We just sat there in awe, watching until the deer disappeared at the other end of the field. We continued hunting the rest of the season but neither one of us got another eye on him.

It was a long off-season, but we filled it with summer scouting. In August, my Dad, my buddy Frank Whaley and I were out scouting the farm, hoping to see some nice deer. Each time out, we were seeing more and more bucks gathered up, feeding together but we did not see the one. We managed to get out a few times a week and glass the fields to see what was around.

The three of us were sitting on the lane at the top of the hill, watching over the same field where we saw the big non-typical the season before, when I heard my Dad say, “Good grief,

look at that buck!” I looked over and there he stood, 150 yards from us, there was the non-typical in all his glory and he was spectacular. He continued to feed out into the beans and we watched him feed till dark. I told Dad I wouldn't shoot another deer until he was mine.

It was Game on from there! I was watching the field every night I could after that. We only saw him one other time while scouting before the season started but he again he was in the same field, in the mean time I hung a new stand and moved another stand to hunt the non-typical.

The 2015-16 bow season began and I have to wait for a south east or west wind to hunt the area. Every time I had a good wind I would hunt one of two stands, hoping to get a chance at him. The first week of the season was slow, not seeing hardly any deer other than a few does and fawns. Once again I found myself trying to get onto the buck before the rut kicked in and took him to who knows where. The season until one evening in October. I was standing in my stand, looking back into the woods across the creek and I saw movement through the brush. I kept watching that direction and sure enough he stepped out into an opening and it's him! The big non-typical, at about 60 yards, across the creek looking away from me. All I could do is just watch as he made his way down the other side of the creek away from me and gone.

A couple of days later I had a good wind so I was back in the same stand. I saw a couple of nice bucks and passed on a nice 8-point. I was encouraged by all the action and I kept watch back in the woods where I'd seen the buck a few days earlier.

It was just about dark and I saw movement across the creek.

It was him but this time he was closer! I had him within 60 yards, but had no shot with all the brush in the way. He did the same thing as a few days before turned to walk down the creek, then disappeared again! At this point I knew I had to do

something, so Dad and I decided to move the stand one more time across the creek where I had seen the deer two times that week. The next day was perfect conditions to move the stand, as it was pouring down rain. We managed to move the stand and cut shooting lanes all while it was pouring rain, masking our activity.

October 18th was the first day I had a good wind to hunt the stand. I sat there till dark and didn't see even one deer. I was a little discouraged walking out but I knew if I kept doing what

I was, I would get a chance at him. The next day I had plans of going to a different stand to hunt, because I didn't want to put too much pressure on that area. Dad just kept telling me to go back to that stand because I still had a good wind. I got to the farm with all intentions of hunting a different stand and as I walked across the field, I changed my mind and went back to the same stand. I get to my stand and get settled in at about 2:30. I sat all afternoon without seeing a single deer. My phone kept vibrating so I sat down, look at my phone and it was my cousin messaging me to see if I had seen anything yet. He was hunting a different form and hadn't seen anything either.

I started to send him a message back and I heard something over my right shoulder. I looked to my right and there, at 25 yards, half in the corn and half out, getting ready to walk in the woods right beside me, was the buck of my dreams. I had to stand up, draw my bow and turn from my left to right to get the pin on him. My tree stand squeaked and he looked right at me.

I just stayed in motion to get the pin on his vitals. I had to wait a moment for him to clear his shoulder from a tree so I could get a good double lung shot on him. He took about a half a step forward and I let it go! Immediately, I noticed the death kick, as the giant buck jumped through the creek out into the grass patch on the other side and out into to the cut field. He ran about a 150 yards, started up a hill in the field, then stopped and looked back at me. I thought, “There's no way I just missed him,� but the arrow flew so fast through him I couldn't tell if I even hit him. He turned, started up the hill and started wobbling around and tipped over right there! I could not believe what just happened. I sat there all day, and hunted for years, all

for that one minute, but it was worth it! It didn't take long to get out of the stand and call Dad, Frank and a few others. Frank

came out and help load the deer up in the truck and then I was off to town to show everybody!

Campfire Chronicles BY: CHRIS MAXWELL

License to Operate The most important license a hunter needs.

Most hunters hit the field each fall with a pocket full of tags.

Moose, deer, elk, perhaps that once in a lifetime draw came through. A hunting licence is perhaps the most important thing a sportsman will carry with them in the field. It is a requirement in every North American jurisdiction and something that has become standard issue in order to regulate game harvest as well as raise much needed revenue for wildlife departments.

One licence, however, that every hunter carries whether they realize it or not is a social licence. Let me explain. I work in the oil and gas industry, and we refer to this as the “social licence to operate” It doesn’t matter how many permits we comply with, how may studies that are done, how great our reclamation efforts are, if the general public is not on board with what we are doing, our projects don’t go ahead. It is really that simple.

Apply this to the hunting world and it doesn’t take long to see that when the general public doesn’t like what we are doing, things get shut down.

Hunters need to recognize that we are only a very small element of society and our ability to continue on with our hunting heritage is contingent on the large majority of non-hunters.

Don’t be mistaken, non hunters are not necessarily anti-hunters, and many, if not most accept hunting as a legitimate way to get meat, and manage game populations. The real issue is when someone crosses a line that, although may be legal, may have the optics of being unethical to the non-hunting community.

A great example of this is the recent bear hunting incident in my home province of Alberta. A non-resident hunted a bear legally with a spear; in of itself taking any big game animal with a spear is quite a feat, the issue lies however with the optics of the hunt and how the non-hunting community portrayed it.

The hunt was filmed, theatrics added, and unfortunately posted on social media. Most hunters I have talked to even found the video distasteful.

The end result of this debacle was the provincial government promising to ban spear hunting, a review on bear baiting that will surely also follow and a big black eye on the hunting community. This was Alberta’s “Cecil the lion”. Some hunters I have talked to say “who cares, it was a legal hunt”. True the hunt was legal, however the social licence to operate in this fashion has now been revoked. Remember that 95% of non-hunters are voters and the message was clear. They don’t want us operating

in this manner, so now we can’t. Although the vast majority of hunters don’t hunt with a spear and have no desire to, and more than likely will not be immediately or directly affected by the loss of this hunting method, this is just one more erosion of our rights and a step closer to banning other forms of hunting.

It is important for all sportsmen to understand we live in a democracy and that means how the majority votes, the rest must follow. Our right to hunt is literally only a vote away from being gone. Think about that for a minute, the only thing standing between you and your ability to continue this great past time is a ballot box. Putting out video’s, posting potentially offensive photos of harvested game or showing disrespect for our quarry in any way spreads like wildfire on social media these days. It is up to every sportsman to be diligent with their conduct in the field and always do their best to portray hunting in the best light possible. When in doubt don’t post it on line!

So what can we as modern day hunters do to ensure our social licence to operate is not revoked? There are lots of things, however the most important is to talk to people in the non-hunting community about what we do and why we do it. Many hunters are reluctant to engage in this conversation, however I have found the majority of people are not only willing to discuss things but are often curious and ask questions that lead to another and hopefully some degree of understanding and acceptance is the end result.

The most receptive points to discuss with non-hunters is usually the role hunting plays in conservation, discussions on wild game as table fare also prove popular. Opening dia-

log with non-hunters also gives you an opportunity to debunk commonly held myths. I am a big sheep hunter and go virtually every year. I was shocked to discover the average person I spoke to thought bighorn sheep were endangered! When I really thought about it, why wouldn’t they think that? Sheep live high in the mountains and are rarely seen by the average city dweller, deer on the other hand are seen by the highway on a regular basis.

Working in the home office of a big oil company, I have these conversations virtually every day. Most people are under the impression this would not go over well, however I have found not only have people been genuinely interested, there has even been a couple of people who have taken their hunters education course, got a firearms licence and want to participate in the sport as a result of our conversations. Several others I have even sold memberships to a hunting organization I belong to.

They may not hunt, but they now see the value hunters bring to the table and are willing to support us.

The last comment I have on maintaining our social licence to operate is to always be aware of what you post on social media. I cannot stress this enough. Something’s are better left un-posted. If you think it might be over the top or offensive to a non-hunter keep it to yourself, nothing has the potential to hurt hunters as a whole like the reckless actions of a single hunter who has posted controversial material for the world to exploit.

If our licence to operate in modern day society is revoked, it is game over for us all.

The

Future of

Hunting

Cadence Knapik

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Dylan Knapik Jessica Klassen

Cole Whidden

Bekah Klassen

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Elijah Zajonz

Drake Maverick Hodges

Dylan Kirzinger

Send us your photos of your favorite outdoor activity and you may be featured in an upcoming issue of Big Game Illustrated!

Email your photos along with name to:

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