"This is the box blind I was sitting in when I shot my big Georgia buck. Throughout the morning, I saw deer on three sides and probably had some behind me as well."

I was sitting in a raised box blind, intently watching a long cut line in a pine plantation. There was an odd bush on the left-hand side, and I knew it was just a bit over 200 yards, because, with omniscient astuteness, I had measured the distance with my rangefinder.

While I was watching with unflagging concentration, a set of antlers appeared over that bush, just exactly as I had expected. And, of course, they belonged to the great whitetail I was hoping to see!

OK, that's mostly horse puckey. I was in a Georgia pine plantation. I knew that bush was 200 yards away because it was one of the few things I could range and remember down that long lane between identical pine trunks. The range wasn't important, because my rifle could reach to the end of the lane without holdover.

The reason I knew the range is because I have an extremely short attention span. As soon as it got light I got bored, and one of the things I do when I'm bored is use a rangefinder to check everything in sight. It was about 9 o'clock, and the deer surprised me. I'd been looking down another lane to my right -- and the antlers were there when I looked back.

The antlers sticking up over that branch were pretty darned good. As for them belonging to the specific buck I was looking for, well, that was distilled horse puckey. A buck this size might have been seen a week earlier not too far away, but this wasn't the buck I was looking for or even hoping for. This one was a whole lot better, and if I had wasted any time thinking, I would never know exactly how good he was.

MY FAVORITE HUNT?
Editor and friend Duncan Dobie didn't ask about my best whitetail. Just as well. I have never taken a "net" B&C whitetail, and, like most whitetail hunters, probably never will.

My best buck actually comes pretty close, but that wasn't my fault. I was in South Texas, watching a long sendero, when I saw a buck thrashing a mesquite about 10 miles -- in reality at least 500 yards -- away. I had sense enough to leave the stand and stalk along the brush line until I cut the distance in half. The buck was still there, but he was fixing to leave. I crawled into a prickly mesquite, got a rest, and shot him. The closer I got the bigger he got, a most unusual sensation.

Duncan also didn't ask about my first whitetail. He was a real dandy, taken behind dogs in North Carolina back in 1975, when I was a brand-new Marine lieutenant. Nice buck for the time and place, but it was some years before I appreciated him properly. Fortunately, Duncan didn't ask about my worst buck, either. I'd probably have come up with one that got serious ground shrinkage.

In truth, Duncan asked about my favorite whitetail. My best Kansas buck was tempting. I did a very smart thing in leaving the river bottom and hunting a system of corrugated breaks. I also made a great long shot when he popped up. But I didn't even suspect he was there, so it was kind of a lucky deal. I've also taken good bucks in Saskatchewan -- but I hate cold weather. After days in freezing cold, that poor deer was my ticket to getting out of the stand!

So I keep coming back to a fine buck that stepped out of the Georgia pines last December. Human nature being what it is, this was one of my most recent and thus most familiar whitetails. I think he's my also my favorite, but time may tell. For sure he's my favorite right now!

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