Back when I started hunting, I put out trail cameras to see what kind of deer were in the area that I hunted. I was a brand new hunter, trying to do what the more experienced hunters were doing, because I thought that was just what you did. I was just getting into social media and as a new hunter, I was extremely excited to learn "all the things". I followed every hunting account I could find and I watched what they were doing in the off season, things like moving stands or blinds, putting out mineral blocks or food piles for the deer, and of course, putting out cameras. People were posting pictures of the most amazing big bucks I had ever seen. It made me think about what might be out there and how cool would it be, if I could get pictures of deer like that and better yet, how cool it would be to post those photos for others to see. That way I could show people that I was doing the work too, I was checking my cameras and starting to pick and choose what deer I wanted to go after.
I would go out each spring, find some good trails, pick a good tree along that trail, and hang a camera. I figured that if I dumped a bag of "special formulated" deer feed in front of it, I would for sure increase my odds of getting some good pictures of whatever was out there. For the most part, we would get a lot of does on camera, a few spike bucks, and my favorite, new fawns. I had no idea that I would end up getting a picture of the biggest buck anyone had seen around there, nor did I understand how seeing that buck on camera would send me down a road of high expectations that could have really derailed my experience of being a hunter altogether.
Almost exactly six years ago, I walked up our driveway, crossed the county road, and walked across the bean field that is owned by Chance's dad. On the other side of that bean field, his property continues with a wooded area of about twenty to thirty acres. I had put a camera over on that field edge about two weeks prior and I was headed over to check it. I faced the camera to the west, essentially pointing right at our house. The deer like to hang out out in the field and feed on the soybeans, and sometimes, even bed down out in the field. I couldn't believe what I was seeing when I loaded the pictures onto my laptop.
The buck was the biggest thing I had personally ever seen, which probably wasn't saying a whole lot, because I had only been through one deer season prior to the one that would take place a few months later. But still, I knew what a big buck looked like and this dude qualified. I couldn't wait to get home and show Chance what was living in his dad's woods, the woods that we had permission to hunt, the woods that were simply a hop, skip and a jump from our front porch. I was so excited, and I knew that my sole purpose of hunting that year was going to be to kill that buck, nothing else mattered.
Chance was of course, in awe of the pictures I showed him. We ended up watching that buck the rest of the summer and into early fall. He eventually moved over to our side of the road, and we often saw him bedded in the hay field right behind our house, not one hundred yards from our bedroom window. He had a couple other smaller, but still nice by our standards, bucks that he traveled with, and they almost acted as his lookout, or security detail. When they would catch us watching them from the backyard, the two "little" fellas would stand up and get between us and the big guy, as he stayed put, enjoying his slumber.
Hunting season arrived on October 1st, and like always, the buck left his buddies and went into hiding. I was a new bow hunter, but it didn't keep me from dreaming of arrowing this buck. Chance had the same dreams, ironically. And almost in an instant, both of our dreams went up in smoke. On November 9th, 2013, the guy that lived around the corner from us, killed the buck we had been watching for the previous three months, and to make matters worse, he killed him about four hundred yards behind our house. I was devastated. And while I didn't know the guy who shot him, I was angry and I hated the guy for it. How could he? Why should I even bother going out now? The only deer I wanted was now hanging in his uncle's shop.
Chance, the more experienced hunter between the two of us, took the high road. Well actually, I think he was just curious, so he went to the guy's house and asked if we could see the deer. When I say guy, it was actually a young man in his mid-twenties, who was very polite,and oddly enough, a taxidermist. Chance told me that he was going to go to the next town over to see the deer and wanted to know if I wanted to ride along. I was adamant that there was no way I was going to look at my dream hanging in someone else's garage. "Hell no, I won't go" I said. And five minutes later I was riding shotgun on our way to Coatesville. Apparently curiosity got the better of me, as well.
When we met the young man, Josh, along with his uncle Brian, they were the most humble, gracious guys you could hope to meet. They were both excited, but were very friendly and answered any questions we had about the deer, and how it all went down. We drove home that evening and I couldn't help but be embarrassed. Leading up to that visit, I was so mad, and had spiteful and hateful feelings toward someone I didn't know, because I used pictures from a trail camera as a way to set the expectations for my hunting season. My expectations had turned me into an asshole. And to be honest, while I was feeling better about not having a shot at that deer, and I was actually happy for Josh, now that I had met him, I was still pretty bent for the rest of that deer season.
I still chose to use trail cameras for a few years following that deer season, but I found myself enjoying the photos due to the neat opportunity of watching how the twin fawns would grow throughout the summer, or the funny pictures we would get of a doe taking what seemed like endless close-up selfies. It was always a thrill to see a buck show up, but I no longer bet my hunting season on one single deer that walked past the camera. I shared countless photos of does, and fawns and it didn't bother me that I didn't have that all important "big buck" picture to post on Instagram or Facebook. I found that the people I was truly friends with were mostly non-hunters anyway, and they loved the shots of the does and fawns more than anything else. It was a way for a lot of folks to see deer close-up for the first time, and I think that is pretty cool.
The last time I put a camera out was late summer of 2017. I wish I would have stopped a year sooner. Once again, a bigger than average buck showed up, at almost the same time in August as the one from four years earlier. I got an urge to once again be an idiot, to become obsessed with the giant. I hit the stand forty yards from where the picture was taken within two days of returning from our Wyoming trip. Chance was pissed because he had hung that stand specifically for Cianni. I told him I wasn't going to shoot anything, I just wanted to see if I could get eyes on him. But I still took my bow, because I was slowly inching towards, once again, those high expectations. I did get eyes on him, after an hour in the stand, I saw something move and it was him and a buddy bedding down on the other side of thick cover, about sixty yards from where I was perched. I had no shot, I never had a shot, but I was shaking like a leaf all the same. That deer was killed by a different neighbor, during the rut, about three quarters of a mile away. It was then that I decided I was done with trail cameras.
I haven't put one up since for deer hunting. I did put one out in our backyard last year, for fun, aimed at our garden because the deer were wearing a path through it. And I wanted to see how many coyotes were coming up into the backyard at night. But I didn't put one out last year for deer, and I haven't this year either. I also haven't put any type of mineral or feed out for the last two springs because I refuse to be a catalyst for the spread of CWD in my state.
Everything about hunting is a personal choice, except for the laws of course. I am getting ready to enter into my seventh hunting season and my perspective has evolved. I flew through those infamous five stages and have quickly, and happily, landed on the last one. I am out there for the experience. I don't want my hunt to have such high expectations due to what I saw on a camera, that I may miss out on the enjoyment altogether. I hunt because it is peaceful in the woods, I hunt because it is hard and I want the challenge of outwitting the game I pursue. But ultimately, I hunt because I want to eat the meat that I take home. I want to help provide for my family and share with my friends. It is important to me that I remember to respect each animal and avoid the mindset that if it isn't the biggest, it doesn't deserve my attention and gratitude. I am skipping the trail cameras because I want the element of surprise. I want to lose my breath, and I want to worry that my heart is going to jump out of my chest no matter what walks in front of me. I mean, if I lose that, I probably don't need to be out there anyway.
We will be going to Wyoming in less than two months for our mule deer hunt. This year however, there will be a couple of other guys we know, heading out from Indiana as well. Back in May, two of our really good friends asked if we would help them put in for tags in Wyoming. I do that for Chance and I, so of course I would do it for them. They came to the house, I got them in the system, put in for their tags, gave them the pertinent info, and essentially told them that we all just have to wait to see if any of us draw. I am happy to say that we all drew for mule deer in the same unit. So this year, we will be introducing Josh, and his Uncle Brian to hunting public land mule deer, in the great state of Wyoming. And you know what, nothing would make me happier, than if they were to find the two biggest bucks the unit has to offer, and bring them back home to Indiana. I won't even be mad about it.