Good whitetail hunters use plenty of common sense. Always use better judgment when faced with tough, challenging decisions. Not only will this line of thought lead to more success in the field, it will also lead to safer hunts as well.

After the trophy had departed, I quickly climbed back into my tree stand and tried to call the buck back within range--nothing doing, he never showed. Realizing the irony of the moment, I glanced at my watch to see how long I’d been asleep and found out that it had been no more than 10 minutes. I couldn’t believe it! When I’d gotten down from my stand, the buck must have been little more than out of eyesight. If I’d just have stayed put a couple of more minutes, I’d have had a certain opportunity to harvest a great buck.

The moral to this story is this: diligence, patience and perseverance are keys when bowhunting rutting, mature whitetail bucks. Never let your guard down, even for a few moments. Get tough!

That Inner Voice
A few years ago, my brother-in-law, Mark Perkins, and I were bowhunting whitetails in Illinois in December. It had been very cold for a long time, and living out of the shell camper on the back of our pickup trucks was a real endurance test. It was a classic case of poor boys, have poor ways. Our passion for big whitetail bucks drove us forward.

Early one afternoon, after having met at our trucks for a quick midday sandwich, we each headed hurriedly back towards our stand and an evening hunt. Walking together for a while, we came to a wetlands area that we had been skirting to get to our destination. Looking straight across the frozen slough, we could see the area that we wanted to reach, only about 200 yards away. To get there however, required a walk of nearly one half-mile to go around the frozen wetland. We’d been making this necessary detour for many days, but on this particular day however, my mind began playing games with me. Thoughts of walking across the ice entered my mind, so I voiced this idea to Mark. Always one of good judgment, his response was quick and sure, “no way, not me, you gotta be stupid to try that!” Being the independent hardheaded cuss that I was (am), and always loving a good challenge, Mark’s response instantly warmed up the demon of rebellion that lurks just under my skin. To think that I’d shy away from such a challenge irked me. I knew I was a rugged outdoorsman and that it was time to “represent!”

Walking out onto the thick ice, I began strolling quickly across the slough. In short seconds, a loud crack sounded below me, quickly reverberating outward in numerous directions. Coming to a quick halt, I looked back toward shore. Mark was quietly taking in the situation in clear amusement. Slowly spinning around toward shore, I took a quick step in that direction. Crack, crack, crack. Things were getting hairy fast! Quickly assuming the prone position to distribute my weight over a larger area, I began to slide forward on my belly, slowly inching toward terra firma, hoping to save myself from an icy dip. Things were going seemingly well, and my audience of one was cheering me on heartily as I neared land.

About 10 feet from the shore, my experiment came to an abrupt end, and in a split second, I was underwater. Since I was in the prone position when I went down, I went completely under. Thrusting my legs under me, I quickly floundered to my feet in the waist deep water! Hurrying ashore, I’m sure that if looks could kill, Mark would have been one dead sucker, especially since he was in a gut wrenching, tear-shedding fit of laughter! Not even bothering to give him the satisfaction of a response, I headed for camp, pronto.