The author has never killed the staggering whitetails that are often featured in wildlife artistry; however, he’s taken his fair share of unique bucks that any hunter would be proud of. From bucks with rare antler characteristics to a deer with canines, the author has always admired whitetails that “break the mold.” (Photo courtesy of Kyle Wright)
April 24, 2025
By Kyle Wright
In the world of fine art, the racks of whitetail bucks are invariably depicted one of two ways: either they are rendered as classically framed 14-pointers with nary an inch of deduction, or they are portrayed as prehistoric looking non-typicals with half a dozen drop tines dripping off each main beam. Oddly enough, I’ve never seen either one in the wild.
No, the deer I’ve hunted have been decidedly more run of the mill. And yet, every single buck I’ve ever shot has been singularly unique. That may well be the thing I love most about hunting whitetail deer. One tom turkey might have a longer beard or a sharper spur than the rest of his running buddies, but there aren’t enough discernible differences between them to distinguish one from the other. And other than the occasional banded leg, the vast majority of waterfowl and upland game birds are carbon copies of one another. But the same can’t be said for whitetails. They are all utterly unique.
Take for instance the 8-point buck I tagged in 2008. He was tall-tined with heavy beams, but he looked like he’d had a head-on collision with a semi-truck because one of those heavy beams canted in towards the middle of his head, shaving six inches or so off his inside spread. That oddity certainly didn’t stop me from shooting him, and incidentally it’s the first thing my friends note when I pull his skull mount off the shelf to show him off.
The 9-point I shot in 2012 was sure enough unique. Based on what I’ve read from biologists, a bug evidently burrowed beneath the buck’s velvet sometime in the early summer, because he had what resembled a feed trough smack dab in the middle of his left main beam. I didn’t know that, though, until I got an up-close and personal look at his rack. The 10-inch G-2 on his right side had been all I needed to see to pull the trigger on that deer.
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The buck that’s nearest and dearest to my heart has more unique characteristics than any one whitetail has a right to claim. I ought to know, I’ve spent enough time staring at him. Like 2012’s 9-point, I didn’t know exactly what I’d shot that morning until I lifted his head out of the leaves, and when I saw the sapling shavings in the bases of his beaded brow tines and the whale-tail kicker on his G-2, I got weak in the knees! I pried open his mouth to check the wear on his teeth and was shocked to find that my buck had canines. Upon that discovery, I had to sit down, as it’s believed that less than 1 percent of whitetail deer have eye teeth.
God broke the mold with that buck, and everyone who has ever admired his shoulder mount above my fireplace wholeheartedly agrees. But honestly, that’s the way I feel about every whitetail I’ve ever shot. From the first buck in my bag, a year-old spike, to the latest, a scar-muzzled 6-point, every one of them is unique.
Chances are I’ll never kill one of those fine-art bucks, and that’s fine by me. Because I’m perfectly happy with unique deer.
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