Seeing The Light: Becoming a Land Manager for Whitetails

I’ve written many times that I’m comfortable throwing myself under the bus if it helps others, and this is one of those times.

Early in my career, I had little exposure to whitetails. This was largely because I’d always been a bowhunter from Colorado. I cherished elk, mule deer, pronghorn and black bear. Whitetails were a mystery to me.

Then, years ago at Mossy Oak’s invitation, I was blessed to attend an Illinois deer camp. During a pre-hunt meeting, I was briefed not to shoot deer under 4 1/2 years old. They had pictures of mature and immature deer on a video reel — some even had names. And I was confused. The outfitter spoke of management plans, habitat work and goals for the future. The information made my brain hurt!

I got to be good friends with many of the guys running the deer camp, and toward the end of the hunt, the owner told me, “Shoot a buck that makes you happy.” I called this receiving the “green light,” and I was ready!

The following day, I took a young 9-point; I was elated. The buck chased a doe around my stand and worked a scrape, and minutes before I sent an Easton through his lungs, I watched a pair of gaggers fight across the ridge.

That hunt sparked something in me: a passion for whitetails. However, I had a terrible attitude about it. I regularly joked about the ridiculousness of food plots, naming deer, age management, doe harvests, etc. Yes, I was that guy. I laughed when I heard whitetail gurus talk about their history with a deer or an incredible encounter with an up-and-comer. I ridiculed habitat work, naming different phases of the rut and anything else I could think of.

I loved the animal, and I cherished being in a tree on a crisp, November day, but I didn’t care about the size or age of any whitetail I wanted to shoot.

CHANGING MY MINDSET

Several years ago, I hunted Nebraska at the invite of my good buddy and certified whitetail freak, Terron Bauer. Going into the hunt, I was ready to do what I’d always done — drop the string on the first decent buck I saw. I saw numerous bucks on that hunt, but I never got an opportunity until the last morning.

A solid, 140-inch 8-point with a big body that Terron had trail camera pictures of slid across a small opening on the inside corner of a native grass field. The buck’s size freaked me out, and I missed that deer badly!

The following spring, Terron invited me back for a turkey hunt. In between blind sits, Terron took me to school. We spent most of our time improving bedding areas, blocking and enhancing deer travel, prepping areas for food plots and adding new rubbing posts to the property. We made minerals sites and planned for fall hunts.

It was fun. I saw Terron’s passion for deer and deer management, and the whitetail wheels in my brain began to turn for the first time.

A NEW PLAN

I don’t harbor, I reflect. Harboring leads to negativity and bitterness, and reflection leads to growth. I realized my errors. I was uneducated in the ways of whitetail, but that changed when I dove deep into whitetail management. I studied magazines like the one you’re reading and learned all I could from conservation organizations and biologists.

That spring, after returning from my Nebraska turkey hunt, I gained access to a small farm near my Colorado home. The property hugged the Arkansas river and was engulfed by agricultural fields. The owners of the property were family friends, and they graciously allowed me to bowhunt the property and make habitat improvements.

Time was of the essence, and I went straight to work. I traded a day of labor to another local farmer for use of his John Deere tractor and mower implement. I created mowed paths between deer bedding and the ag fields. I blocked areas of travel with my Stihl chainsaw to create more defined pinch points and funnels. I did some cutting in a dense area of young cottonwoods to make better doe bedding, and I placed cedar rubbing posts in front of each of my stand sites.

Though I didn’t know it then, my best addition was a small, 120-gallon pond. Using a shovel and an old pool liner, I dug in a pond directly off a primary doe bedding area. I knew the Arkansas river was close, but I’d also read that deer prefer to drink from a still water source so they can drink and listen simultaneously. I also figured does and bucks would get up from their beds throughout the day and visit my refreshment stand. I hauled water with five-gallon buckets and a four-wheeler to keep the pond topped off.

It was a lot of work, but I enjoyed every minute. My last step was to hang trail cams in late July and start getting inventory of the local deer herd. I screamed like a kid at Christmas the first time I pulled my card and had multiple pictures of does and bucks drinking from my pond! I freaked out when I inadvertently bumped a family group of does from my bedding area and was even more pleased when I found my mowed travel paths pounded with tracks. I was having a blast!

MATURE OR BUST

I went into the season with several mature deer on camera. I promised myself I would shoot a mature deer or nothing at all. Regarding bucks in particular, a big-bodied and wide 8-point was a regular at my pond. By mid-October, the buck was crushing my cedar rubbing post and hammering the mock scrape I placed by drilling a hole and adding a licking branch atop the post.

Trail camera photos captured his bed to water to agriculture routine. On the evening of Oct. 24, I climbed into a cottonwood situated 21 yards from my pond and 24 yards from the rubbing post with the mock scrape.

It was hot, and movement was minimal. Then, with 20 minutes of shooting light remaining, I spied the wide 8-point. The buck emerged from a thick stand of native grass. He walked down my mowed path, hung a left, and slurped water from my pond before I could gather my wits.

I hadn’t even drawn my bow, and the sense of satisfaction that coursed through my veins was incredible. The buck drank and drank. He was quartering hard to me, but after his last gulp, the 8-pointer turned broadside, looking at the rubbing post. I pressed my Hoyt into action and made a perfect shot on the old warrior!

I am blessed to hunt all across America each year and have harvested many animals with stick-and-string. However, this hunt is one my bowhunting heart and mind call on often.

FULL CIRCLE

Today, I’m a certified whitetail nut. I eat, drink, live and breathe white-tailed deer. Of course, my pursuits for other game animals haven’t stopped, but I’m chasing America’s favorite game animal from October through January.

I’ve continued developing my small hunting property over the years. I’ve added more rubbing posts, timber cuts and improved deer travel. I’ve sprayed brome grass so native grasses can come in strong and optimized my stand and blind locations.

I run cameras year-round, and in the fall of 2022, I got pictures of a tall-tined 8-point I named “Too Tall.” Yes, I am now naming deer, too! The buck was impressive on camera. However, the first time I saw him on the hoof was at a stand location I call “The Intersection.” It’s an area where three mowed paths emerge from the native grass and tamarack and join beneath a Muddy lock-on.

Too Tall stood at 12 yards, hammering my rubbing post. I guessed the deer to be 4 1/2 years old and estimated his score between 145 and 150 inches. He was mature, but something inside me told me not to shoot, so he could grow another year. My gracious, what was happening to me? The deer looked like he could explode if given another year, so I let him walk.

That buck tempted me several times in 2022, but I never grabbed my bow. As bad as I wanted to hold his rack and examine his long brow tines, I left my Hoyt on the hanger.

THE PAYOFF

My habitat work doubled in the spring and summer of 2023. The puzzle pieces were coming together, but there was still more I could do.

Because of the crop rotation, the pond where I killed the wide buck was no longer an excellent deer spot. I filled that pond in and dug a bigger and better one at the Intersection Stand. The pond held 200 gallons and was situated near heavy native grass and tamarack bedding. I also added a ground blind to hunt the area on almost any wind.

I haven’t touched on this yet, but food plots planted in the drought-stricken, poor-soil area where I dwell in Colorado don’t tend to make it. I have tried several times, but days of 100-plus-degree heat bake them.

This year, though, I had a new plan. My Intersection Stand sits in a small timbered funnel near the heavy native grass and tamarack bedding. After spraying and killing all the weeds in the funnel, I borrowed my neighbor’s Kubota and tiller and chewed up the earth. Terron was kind enough to send me a bag of rye seed, so I broadcasted the seed in and rolled over the small kill plot with my four-wheeler. That’s when the real work started.

I planted the plot with a thunderstorm in the forecast. I got enough rain for germination, but the long-term prognosis was dismal. So, I purchased a pair of 87.1-gallon water storage bladders from Amazon, devised a nozzle and hose system, and started watering my food plot.

Twice a week, if I didn’t get any help from Mother Nature, I would drive my Chevy down my mowed path, top off my pond and water my plot. By the end of August, I’d been chewed on by so many mosquitos I likely needed a blood transfusion!

Finally, September rains and cooler temperatures arrived. My plot would make it, and guess who was the plot’s first visitor? Too Tall! And my decision to let him grow was a smart one; the buck had exploded. Not only did his brow tines almost reach up to his G-2s, but his left brow forked, and he added a pair of points to his right side. I guessed him to be in the 160s.

Too Tall was 5 1/2 years old, and his core range had shrunk. I got him regularly through the summer at the plot and pond, which are separated by 20 yards; I can shoot to both from the Intersection Stand.

My Reveal X-Pros worked perfectly, and though I would have to remove them before the season because of Colorado’s game laws, they were a pivotal tool.

When the wind was right in early October, I started carefully checking my non-cellular trail cameras. Too Tall shed his velvet and was impressive. When I checked the camera on Oct. 22, I had pictures of him on Oct. 19, 20 and 21. He had yet to daylight but was at the pond and plot minutes before and minutes after shooting light.

On Oct. 23 an east wind blew, which meant I’d be jumping in my ground blind at the intersection. Too Tall made his first daylight appearance that evening. He hit the rye plot and headed right for the pond. It was there a SEVR-tipped Easton arrow met him.

I can’t stress how much that evening, that buck and all the work that went into harvesting Too Tall meant to me. Most of all, I’m blessed to be a whitetail hunter who learned the error of his ways and will now never look back!

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