The Quest for Big 8: A 203 2/8-Inch Iowa Giant

I was born and raised in Northeast Iowa, and my passion for pursuing whitetails, like many, started at a young age. I can still remember my very first successful whitetail hunt as if it happened just yesterday, way back on Nov. 8, 1995. Nearly three decades have passed since that day, and it’s hard to believe what whitetail deer hunting has evolved into.

In the late 2000s, my wife and I moved to southern Iowa and settled in the rolling hills of Warren County. Being a self-employed Real Estate Broker has allowed me to spend most of my time each fall doing what I love, pursuing whitetails. It quickly became evident to me that if you have a passion for whitetails, southern Iowa stands out as one of the premier places in the world to hunt them.

For over a decade, my good friend and hunting partner Scott Powers and I have been fortunate to have access to several farms across the state. There was one particular farm I referred to as the “South Farm” — which I didn’t hunt often due to its lengthy 90-minute, one-way drive. The farm consisted of several hundred acres of crop fields combined with one large, wooded draw that had several small fingers branching off it.

Its hunt-ability was exceptional, as the layout of the terrain created some of the best pinch points and funnels any archery hunter could ask for. We rarely planted food plots and just hunted it the traditional way with tree stands, playing the wind and waiting for the proper time to hunt.

The story begins in late October of 2021. While looking through trail camera photos from the South Farm, I came upon an image from a massive, tall-tined 8-pointer that I estimated to be in the mid-160s and appeared to be 4 1/2 to 5 1/2 years old. With no history of the deer, it seemed fitting at the time to name him “The Big 8.”

Despite monitoring the cameras throughout the rest of the season, additional photos of him were scarce. His sporadic appearances led us to believe he was not residing on us and probably lived on a neighboring farm. I simply wrote the deer off for the remainder of the 2021 season.

As we came into the early fall of 2022, to my surprise it didn’t take long before the first photos of him emerged. He had put on a fair amount of growth since the previous season. While maintaining a similar mid-160s 4x4 frame, he had added approximately 20 inches of abnormal points on his right side, while the left side resembled a similar look as the year prior as a clean 4-point. We estimated his gross score to be in the mid-180s non-typical.

Upon the opening of the archery season, I was faced with a good dilemma as I had another deer of similar size that also had my full attention. Little did I know, that my first sit for the other deer would have a picture-perfect ending, filling my archery tag on a mid-180s 5x5 with matching flyers. A short time later, Scott encountered the same scenario, and ultimately harvested a different deer as well.

Around Thanksgiving time, Scott was going through trail camera photos and discovered that the Big 8 was pretty consistent in one area of the farm. It was also evident from the photos that he had sustained a severe injury from what appeared to be the results of being struck by a vehicle. More than a third of his hair was missing, and his nose and jaw appeared to be broken. Both Scott and I agreed to intensify our efforts to harvest him in the upcoming late muzzleloader season.

It wasn’t until December 27th that I finally had the opportunity to get out. Iowa had just had its first blizzard followed by an arctic blast of cold air. With temperatures well into the single digits and the wind chill well below zero, the conditions were perfect. I felt good about the evening hunt as I packed up and headed to the farm.

It was a cold and sunny day, and it didn’t take long for the deer to start pouring in. As I scanned the field, I spotted a decent-sized shed about 300 yards out, lying beam-up in the bean stubble. Initially, it didn’t strike me as anything big, but I made a mental note to retrieve it on my way out after the evening hunt.

Activity that afternoon was great, with nearly every deer on the farm making an appearance, except for the one I was looking for. On my way out, I turned on my head lamp and proceeded to the shed. As I got closer, I couldn’t believe what I was looking at; it was the 4-point side from the Big 8. With a G-2 measuring 15 2/8 inches on a broomed-off 26-inch beam, the shed scored an impressive 74 inches. Given the stress of his injury, it made sense to me for him to shed out early. Unfortunately, though, our quest for the Big 8 in the 2022 season had just come to an early ending.

A few weeks later, Scott and I combed the area in search of his other side, and we were unable to find the match. However, Scott did find the buck’s left side he carried in 2021, which measured 73 inches. Miraculously, it didn’t have a rodent chew on it. We were really intrigued with this whitetail at that point, and we decided if he was still alive in 2023, we would both devote our season to him.

Before I knew it, time flew by from spring to late summer. And on August 18th, I put out several cameras in a variety of new locations. One of those locations was an open gateway between two ag fields. I had a good feeling that, if the buck was alive, this is where we would find him. Unbeknownst to me, it wouldn’t even take 24 hours to get our first photos, and by 1:00 a.m. the following morning, there he was, alive and well.

Over the years, I’ve captured my fair share of photos of impressive whitetails, but this one was truly special. Despite his injury the previous year, he had grown into something beyond my highest expectations. With towering G-2 tines that looked 16 inches long, and now a 5x5 frame, the buck’s impressive rack had added several more abnormal points. I felt confident he would gross in the low 200-inch range.

I immediately shared the photos with Scott, and we started to devise a game plan for the fast-approaching season.

Based on the buck’s summer range to where he spent most of his time rutting, we figured his home range was nearly a full mile. We didn’t have as many stands out as we felt we needed, so over the next week we hung around a dozen new sets. Our plan moving forward was quite simple: stay out and start hunting him around November 1.

Over the next two months, he was very consistent on camera, but he always showed up well after dark. He favored one particular area of the farm’s main draw. My plan was to hunt a two-week dawn-to-dark stretch beginning right after a Halloween night of trick or treating with my son.

November 1st finally arrived, and I found myself in the main draw, perched in a cedar tree along a pond dam. Bordered by unpicked cornfields on two sides of me, I was not entirely in love with this setup, due to limited visibility. That day’s hunt was rather slow, with only a few bucks and does filtering through.

Around 3:30 p.m., movement caught my eye as a doe came running out of the corn and stopped on the far side of the pond. It was obvious from her reaction that she was being chased. Seconds later, her pursuer came into full view — and it was the Big 8. For the first time in three years, I finally laid eyes on him!

He was about 150 yards and heading my way. However, as the deer entered the opposite side of the pond dam, a low spot in the terrain took them out of my view. As I watched them disappear into the low spot, I patiently waited for them to reappear. After several minutes, I began to sense something wasn’t right. It occurred to me that they may have slipped back into the standing corn out of my line of sight.

Assuming that the doe was likely in heat or coming into, I concluded that’s exactly what happened. Though I was excited to finally see him, I couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that he didn’t follow the script.

Over the next week, I bounced around and hunted dawn-to-dark sits in several different locations. I saw an abundance of deer activity but had no encounters with the one I was looking for. I was confident he was bedding further down the main draw and in the standing corn around it. The problem was, it was impossible to get in and out undetected without the corn being harvested.

The standing corn was restricting my options of where I could hunt, and it was keeping the deer out of the woods. It was quite frustrating. Every day I would hear grunting, chasing and sparring in the corn, and I literally had no idea what the source was. Scott was also consistently hunting nearby and was running into the same problem. We visited every night and remained confident that eventually one of us would catch a break.

After another all-day sit on November 8, as I was leaving the farm, I was greeted by the flashing amber lights of a combine. Our much-needed break was beginning to unfold. The next morning, I hunted a set about a quarter mile from the main draw. The day was like most others with great deer activity, but the one I was looking for was once again nonexistent. Around 9:30 a.m. the sound of the combines running over the hill caught my attention.

It appeared they had moved to the backside of the farm and were harvesting the fields around the main draw. After a few more hours I made the decision to pack up, drive around and check it out. Upon reaching a high vantage point, I couldn’t help but smile. Most of the corn on both sides of the main draw had just been harvested.

The main draw varied in width from approximately 150 to 200 yards wide, with one spot creating a classic hourglass funnel. We had hung two new stand sets there back in August, not 50 yards from one another. One was for a north wind, and the other was for south winds. Scott and I both felt strongly at that time the corn needed to be harvested to get in and out undetected, so neither of us had hunted it yet.

I called Scott, and his exact words were: “Go get him!” I gathered my gear and was settled in the tree stand by 1:00 o’clock that afternoon.

From the minute I got in the tree it was nonstop movement with nearly a dozen different bucks passing by. My head was on a constant swivel from all the activity, and it was shaping up to be one of the best days in the woods thus far. Around 4:30 p.m., I caught movement to my left down the draw. As my eyes focused on the movement, I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. It was him, and he was heading towards me . . .

As calm as he could be, the giant buck seemed to have no sense of urgency and was slowly working his way along the field edge. I watched him for several minutes. And after what seemed like an eternity, he finally closed the distance to 50 yards. If he continued his course, he would enter a wide-open shooting lane at a distance of no more than 25 yards.

With my release on the d-loop, my confidence was high that this was finally going to happen. Then, the buck did the unexpected and began to angle away from me and out into the picked cornfield. It felt like déjà vu all over again.

It was dead calm with little to no wind, like one of those moments you could hear a pin drop. So, I opted not to call at this distance for the time being, deciding instead to just let the buck do his thing. He proceeded out into the field to about 100 yards and was slowly feeding farther and farther away from me.

Then, from somewhere behind me in the field, I heard a buck grunting and chasing. Of all things, a spike buck was chasing a doe into the draw and pushing her right to me. Before I knew it, they were both standing right beneath me, panting and looking out into the field. As the doe let out a bleat, from the corner of my eye I saw the giant buck raise his head and look their way. Then, almost simultaneously, he broke into a fast trot headed right towards them.

As the big buck quickly approached, the two deer below me bolted in the opposite direction. I took advantage of the commotion they created and got to full draw undetected. I bleated several times trying to stop the shooter when he closed the distance to 30 yards, then 25 yards, then 20 yards! About that time, the buck stopped and was slightly quartering away. I quickly settled my top pin toward the back of the ribs and squeezed the release.

I watched as the lighted nock passed through him and stuck into the ground. He spun around and trotted a mere 15 yards and stopped, right behind a big cedar tree. I quickly knocked another arrow, but it was just too thick for a follow up shot. He stood behind the cedar tree for several minutes. Moments later, he turned towards me and then bedded down.

So there I sat, still in disbelief at the chain of events that had just unfolded. From the moment I saw the spike and doe, to the time I released the arrow, couldn’t have been more than a minute. My eyes assured me the shot placement was a touch back, but I began to doubt the extent of his quartering-away angle. With the deer bedded at just 30 yards, and literally facing the tree I was in, I was quite hesitant on what to do next.

I tried texting my wife to tell her I was going to strap myself in the tree for the night. The problem was, this area had absolutely no cell phone service. I came to the conclusion to just sit tight until it was as dark as it could be, then try to get out without bumping him from his bed.

As the darkness fell, the farmers began picking another field over the ridge behind me, so there was some noise to my benefit.

There were also some raccoons that decided it was time to come to life, rustling in the corn stalks close by. With my climbing sticks on the opposite side of the tree, I felt a lot more confident about the situation. I left everything in the tree and proceeded to slowly climb down. Then I realized, halfway down, that my keys were still in my pack. I slowly snuck back up, gathered the keys, and moments later, I was on the ground.

I knew I had not spooked him up to this point, but the crunchy leaves on the forest floor created yet another problem. I took my boots off, and before each step, I picked up every leaf in the way. An hour later, I finally made it back to my truck, where Scott was waiting.

I called my wife and filled her in. She was excited to hear the news but also reaching her wits’ end with me from the 3:00 a.m. wakeups over the past nine days. Explaining the details of what transpired with Scott, he was confident the final chapter had just been written. We agreed it would soon be a happy ending to this epic deer story, also that it would be best to leave the deer overnight and recover him in the morning.

The following morning, Scott and I arrived at the farm and proceeded to the stand site. Upon recovering my arrow, it had the smell of a gut shot, with some dark blood indicating a liver hit. We took up the trail from where he was last bedded, and it didn’t surprise me that he had gotten up.

However, he left a substantial blood trail that led us into a deep ravine. Just 50 yards from the shot, we came to a point where he climbed up out of the ravine, and either went left or right. As I looked right, I saw nothing. But as I looked left, I couldn’t believe it! Just 10 yards away, there he lay, expired in his bed.

I have been on a fair amount of big deer recoveries, but I must admit, the sight of this one lying there was one I won’t soon forget. With those towering G-2s, his overall eye appeal was simply incredible. Scott and I knew he was big, but we had no idea how big he truly was. We sat there and admired him for the next hour and reflected on the years of history we had with him.

We took several photos, and after a few struggles, we finally got the deer loaded up and were headed for home. I shared the news and showed the deer to family, friends and several clients. Later that afternoon, I met up with my friend Cameron Coble, who took some spectacular harvest photos for me. A short while later, we got the deer caped out and in the cooler.

After the 60-day drying period, I had my dear friend David Boland put the final numbers on him. The impressive thing about this buck was the G-2 tines; though they didn’t quite come in at 16 inches, they were very close at 15 5/8. Combined with exceptional mass on a 173 2/8 typical frame with 30 inches of abnormal points, he grossed 203 2/8 and netted 195 2/8 non-typical.

Looking back at the very first photo I had of this deer, I could never have imagined it would lead to a three-year journey for such an incredible whitetail. The emotional highs and lows that this animal brought to Scott and I are simply indescribable, and I will forever be grateful to Scott for the joint effort that contributed to my success. While I have been fortunate to harvest some magnificent whitetails over the years, one thing is certain, the quest for The Big 8 will be etched into my memory for a very, very long time.

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