Outdoors columnist Dan Geddings: My story

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The woods were cloaked in darkness when I climbed into the stand. I could hear a soft tinkling sound from a small waterfall that was just below me. A gentle wind floated through the trees to the west.

Daylight came slowly in the big timber. The cloudy sky and the shady woods seemed to hold the light back longer. The stand is in a hardwood that clings to the solid ground, along the far side of the stream bank. The exposed roots of the stubborn tree make convenient steps across the little creek, and a wrist-thick vine, hanging there, provides a good support to steady my passages.

There is no quiet that can compare to the woodlands before the dawn. A soft owl hoot came from somewhere behind me, then a songbird made a timid call. The light was coming, and I could make out the individual trees now. There is a clear-cut hillside beyond the edge of the big timber. The light was better there. I scanned the forest floor and the woods around me, then I looked back toward the clear-cut.

A deer is walking into the timber from the north. It is big and stocky, and I know that it's a buck. When the deer walks behind a group of trees, I reach into my pack that is hanging on a hook and grab my binoculars. As the buck steps from behind the trees, I can see antlers with the binoculars, but the light is poor, and I can't tell much about his size.

The buck walks slowly toward me into the timber. He is relaxed and in no hurry. I had scattered some shelled corn on the hillside the day before, and he stops there to look around. When he looks away, I lower the binoculars and slowly push them back into the pack, without taking my eyes off the buck. He is facing me, and when he puts his head down to nibble on some of the corn, I can see that his antlers are heavy and wide. I think he is big enough.

My rifle is across my lap, and I bring it up and find the buck in the scope. He turns a little to the side. There is only a seat with no rail or rest on this ladder stand. I'm holding the rifle freehand, and I can see the crosshairs in the scope wobbling around. I make an effort to control my breathing and calm my nerves. The crosshairs settle on the buck's front shoulder, and I squeeze the trigger. The thunderous sound of the shot shatters the quiet morning, and the buck goes down. I am surprised.

The deer kicks around on the ground and gets behind some trees and brush. I can't see him very good, but I can see the brush shaking when he moves. Then something catches my eye back toward the clear-cut. It's another buck walking into the timber. I lay my rifle across my lap and dig the binos back out of my pack. This buck is also completely relaxed, even though it's been only a minute or two since my rifle shot roared through the wooded hillsides.

This smaller buck walks up and looks at the big buck on the ground, then turns and heads back up the hillside. Apparently, the gunshot had not spooked him. My buck had stopped moving by now, so I took out my phone and texted Shannon, who was hunting nearby, "big buck down."

When I stood up in the stand, I could see the deer's white belly gleaming on the brown leaf litter of the forest floor. I climbed down from the stand and walked slowly toward him. There was no ground shrinkage on this one. He was bigger than I thought. His antlers had heavy mass and a wide spread. His body was huge. Probably the heaviest buck I have ever taken. Shannon came over and helped me pull the buck out to the road. It was quite a task.

I've passed on some smaller bucks this year, and I didn't shoot a buck last year, but I did have an encounter with a good one from this stand. It might have been this same deer. Now you know my story.

Email Dan Geddings at cdgeddings@gmail.com.