It was the coldest morning so far this season, so Bradley Peterson and youth Alex Reece decided to hit the woods, not knowing they'd get a shot opportunity on the biggest buck of their lives.
They got in late. The sun was peeking over the horizon as they slipped down the road to their box stand. The head high weeds were sparkling with the snowy white frost, and they didn't say much as the climbed up into the stand. It was cold, in the low twenties, and they settled themselves each facing opposite of each other. Alex was watching four hundred yards of power line, while Bradley watched a huge thicket with high weeds and some cleared spots for shooting. They both decided that they didn't want to sit past nine, they were hungry and cold, and if they hadn't seen a thing they didn't want to wait.
Around 8:30 Bradley had just gotten done with a quiet phone call from his brother and Alex was ready to get down. Bradley decided that they should stick it out until nine, as originally planned. They were talking and joking when Alex noticed a bird fly up at the end of one of the shooting lanes. He pointed it out to Bradley who started watching hard and, as luck would have it, out stepped the old eight point Bradley's father had seen a few days ago.
"Do you see it? Can you get on it?" Bradley asked Alex and they both propped up their rifles. "He's heading back into the woods, can you see it?"
"No, I don't see him." Alex whispered, trying to contain his adrenaline.
"If you can't get on him, I'm going to shoot him, he's about to get back into the woods." Bradley flipped the safety, and settled in on the scope. About that time Alex's .270 cut through the air.
"Did you hit him??" Bradley whispered, trying to spot the buck.
"I don't know, I cant see him." Alex whispered shakily.
That's when Bradley saw the buck running though the brush, heading directly into his shooting lane. He locked in on the shoulder, took a breath, squeezed, and the buck started to drop. As soon as Bradley was recovering from the recoil of his seven mag, he heard Alex shoot off another round.
It all happened within 30 seconds. Three shots, two hunters, and one dead buck in the field. As they both caught their breath, Bradley asked Alex where he shot.
"Behind the shoulder." Alex breathed. They both shakily climbed out of the stand and walked towards the old eight. As they both approached him, they realized how big he really was. They both celebrated, took pictures, and loaded the 240 pound giant into the back of the truck. As they headed home, they came to the realization that they had to decide who actually killed it. With closer inspection, they found one bullet hole, directly in front of the shoulder, a good fatal, clean shot for a deer that was quartering to you, and exactly where Bradley had aimed. After much discussion, debating, re-enacting, they came to the conclusion that Bradley had made the kill shot, and got to claim the prize.
The buck will be sent for scoring soon, and will most likely make the South Carolina record book. This was definitely a once in a lifetime buck for Bradley, who had never shot anything larger than a basket six point. It was an experience he'll never forget, and a roller coaster of emotion that will take days to get over. One of the many reasons why the feelings hunting gives is something that can never be explained, just experienced.
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