At 9:15 five does came running along the side hill and stopped right under my stand! Just about the same time the bucks started fighting again, and at this point I got my first look at the buck's massive antlers as they moved to the top of the knoll and crashed together. The bucks were tawny forms in the trees with flashing, crashing antlers, but what antlers! The smaller buck sported wide heavy antlers of 10 points or so, and the larger buck's rack was humongous! Almost unbelievable in size, even from a distance--without binoculars!

Before arrowing his trophy, Siech watched his buck and a larger male battle aggressively, with the larger buck driving his adversary into a barbed-wire fence. Shortly afterward, Siech spotted his buck, sore from the fight, en route to a doe.

At the same time I was watching the bucks, I was also trying to keep track of the does that had appeared, meandering around observing the fight.

Several of the does were moving back and forth along the fence line below trying to get closer to the action, while the rest were casually munching leaves and watching from the hillside--right under my stand! By this time I had been sitting for over an hour and 45 minutes and had decided I couldn't take much more of this stress when the Alpha doe moved to one of the scrapes. She dug it up and urinated in it. "Wow!" I thought to myself. "This is unbelievable. What a set-up. I've got live decoys, a fresh scrape and bucks fighting around me! What next?" I could see that the does below were getting nervous and realized the wind had switched from north to west, and they must have been getting a whiff of something they didn't like. I was about ready to collapse from strain and exhaustion and was actually exhilarated when the bucks ceased fighting and all the does moved casually down the slope, disappearing into a deep ravine. What a relief! I felt like a ton of rocks had been lifted off me as I stood up and stretched stiff, sore and tired muscles. It was after 11:30 and the sudden static on my radio caused a moment of panic as I frantically fumbled to get the volume turned down. Ruby was calling to see if I still wanted to be picked up. I mumbled quietly, "I'm not getting out. I've got deer all 'round me. Get me tonight!"

I'd barely gotten the radio replaced in my pack and my binoculars around my neck when suddenly the bucks were back, for the third time. They immediately started fighting again. At the same time there seemed to be deer appearing from every direction, and four more bucks apparently had returned with them. I swear, all these bucks were Pope and Young qualifiers and were an incredible sight as they milled around with the does watching the titans battle.

This time I got a good look through the binoculars as the bucks stopped battling for a minute and stood looking uphill at two does that were directly between my stand and the bucks. The monster buck had to have scored over 200 points with an exceptionally wide spread, heavy main beams and 12 massive, long tines that seemed to reach up forever. The smaller buck was certainly no slouch with a wide massive rack and heavy tines. Within minutes the two were back at it, tearing up the ground amid constant grunting and clashing antlers as they moved up and down the fence line. The sound of their fighting was incredible. Words can't describe the racket the bucks made as they battled for supremacy. At one point the larger mate drove his adversary into the barbed-wire fence and upended him right on top of it. As the battling bucks gradually worked their way to the top of the knoll, most of the other deer followed them and went out of sight. It was now after 12:00, and except for the two does on my side of the ridge the woods were silent.

Decoys work well during the breeding season, whether the decoy is a doe or buck; bucks frequently check on does for signs of estrus, and a buck represents a challenge for a dominant buck. Siech, with all the activity he had around his stand, essentially had "live" decoys.

It seemed like I'd just started to unwind and return to the world of reality when at 1:15 a buck appeared below the fence and on the opposite side of a deep draw. It was the smaller buck of the fighting pair, and the way he was limping along left little doubt that he'd taken a beating. He had his eye on the bedded doe and when he came to the fence, he simply crawled under, rather than jumping it. At 50 yards the buck gave the doe a cursory look and turned away, bringing me to the point where I just wanted the hunt over and done with. My body and mind were exhausted from the stress and strain of the past seven hours of incredible, unbelievable, once-in-a lifetime deer activity, and now the damnable buck was just going to walk out of my life. Rattling was out of the question, and because my grunt call had disappeared the only thing I could think of was using Ron's tactic of imitating a fawn bleat with my voice. My first hesitant bleat was evidently loud enough to cut through the breeze blowing in my face and get the buck's attention as he suddenly turned and started my way. I gave another soft bleat that put him on full alert, still headed my way. At this point in the confrontation I knew I wouldn't be dying of a heart attack in the near future, 'cause if this day's events didn't give me a coronary, nothing would!

When the buck walked behind a huge oak tree 30 yards from my stand I came to full draw and waited. Closer and closer he came. At 18 yards he paused, quartering away and glanced back toward the still bedded doe. I couldn't believe how calm I was as I picked the spot, released smoothly, watched the arrow slice through behind the buck's shoulder and then followed his lunging progress until he collapsed just a few yards from the road along the ridge top. It wasn't until I stood looking down at the exceptional buck on the ground that I realized I'd just accomplished the dream of a lifetime. Over the next few hours, I waited for someone to answer the blooming radio. I couldn't leave the deer alone, so I decided to drag it up and down the road to different positions under the trees. No mean feat with a buck weighing well over 200 pounds. During my seemingly interminable wait on the road my emotions bounced from the elation and satisfaction of having taken such a trophy, to sadness and sorrow for having taken the life of such an exquisite animal. Emotions only another bowhunter would fully understand.

I'd come to Iowa with the idea of being satisfied with a 125-point buck and ended up with a buck that gross-scored in the high 170s and exceeded my wildest expectations. A buck that gave me the incomprehensible "once-in-a-lifetime" experience of observing it fight one of the largest bucks in North America for three solid hours and then responded to my voice call and gave me the perfect shot. A shot that I'd practiced and planned for 16 years and made good when the moment of truth finally arrived. Bowhunting just doesn't get better than that!