It’s a long drive to Osage Beach, Missouri, 16 to 17 hours in fact with good weather and minimum traffic problems. So it wasn’t surprising that Jim Zirkle, Terry Claypool and myself met early to begin our journey west.
We were headed to the Whitetail Trophy Hunt to spend three days hunting huge whitetails on the 30,000 acres of leased property there. The area abounds with large, heavy antlered, long tined bucks and this hunt had additional monetary rewards if you should be fortunate to harvest one of those bruisers.
We loaded Terry’s truck quickly. Even the swirling, bitter cold wind couldn’t dampen our good spirits; adventure lay ahead. For Terry and I this was our first trip. Jim had been there many times before and bagged some exceptional trophies. We were excited.
Our first day’s journey took us to a motel just past St Louis. After 12 hours of driving we all crawled from the vehicles groaning and moaning, the results of our long confinement in the truck.
The next morning we ate an early breakfast, on the road by 7 a.m. Around noon we arrived at the hotel where all 230 hunters participating in the hunt were staying. Hunters in camouflage filled the parking lot and lobby creating an atmosphere resonating with good fellowship and anticipation.
After settling into our rooms Jim showed us the sites and we saw a nice 11-point buck by the road. His rack was in sad shape: broken eye tines, left hand G2 snapped off, right hand main beam missing past the G3. He’d met his match it appeared.
Dinner time was a wonderful buffet with excellent food. Following dinner a 30-minute orientation session after which a computer lottery picked which of the 500 stands you’d be hunting at tomorrow. You then met the land owner your stand was located on at a designated area in the hall, asked any questions you may have and were informed of your pick up time. Don’t be a minute late: if they say they’re leaving at 4:05, they pull out at 4:05. Hunt arranged we headed for bed, it’d been a long day and at the Trophy Hunt things begin early.
A 3 a.m. alarm, big breakfast, grab your provided lunch, hunting gear and hustle out to your ride, in most cases a 10-passenger van which drops each hunter off at his location. Terry dressed, grabbed his pack, the 300 Winchester Magnum, and headed for the parking lot.
He’d be hunting stand Z-1 today and was the first hunter out of the van. It was still pitch black. His guide showed him a trail marked by pieces of reflective tape and after short instructions and advice sent him on his way. After a couple hundred yards he arrived at his stand and climbed in glancing at his watch, 5 a.m. An entire hour remained until daylight. The temperature was 11 degrees and Terry was glad he’d packed enough warm clothes for unexpectedly cold weather like this in Missouri.
Luckily the walk in had warmed him for the long wait until dawn. Imperceptibly the light grew until the black world surrounding him began to take on form and substance.
His stand overlooked a dry creek bottom, the stream bed forking to his left, a low, oak covered neck of land separating the rocky channels. Zipping up his coat and hunching his shoulders against the cold he began the incessant turning of his head necessary to watch the forest surrounding him.
It grew lighter and at 7:30 a doe and two fawns crossed in front of him. Time passed, then looking behind Terry caught motion and saw two deer at the edge of his vision. One was a doe, the other’s head was hidden.
Two hours later, as if by magic, a doe appeared on the neck of land to his left. Immediately, a buck materialized behind, hot on her trail, cutting the corner on any turn she made. His antlers were impressive, about 16-inches wide with heavy points and beam. An exceptional Pennsylvania buck, but we agreed the night before to hold out for 10-points the first day. Reluctantly, he let him go, the buck would have scored around 120, would he regret his decision?
At 1 o’clock he picked out just the back leg of a deer to his left. It was a doe and she jumped nervously ahead. Thirty feet behind her another big buck appeared, an 8 also, but this buck had impressively tall tines and mass as well. It wasn’t a 10-point, but what a deer!
Three times the doe leaped ahead only to be cut off and stopped. Terry was agonizing whether to shoot or not. Then the doe bolted to the ridge top and he made up his mind, you just can’t pass an 8-point like that. The big buck began to trot ahead.
Quickly he shouldered his 300 Win Mag and as the buck entered the last narrow opening, he fired, the buck dropping in his tracks. Running up and grabbing those wonderful antlers he was thrilled with his decision. The buck scored 138 and an eighth, a magnificent trophy with long tines.
In fact, Terry came in fourth overall, won a free hunt next year and a fist full of cash. It had been quite a day. Congratulations Terry, dreams do come true.
