For those of us who hunt on a regular basis, it is often said the have been "bit" by the passion and romance the sport holds. Of course, for some, that "bite" is more like a five-course meal.

Someone once asked Kim what is was like to be married to a hunting fanatic. “I don’t know,” she told them, “I guess you need to ask my husband!”

It wasn’t always like that. While Kim may not have grown up in a hunting family, you wouldn’t know that by talking to her today. Certainly, exposing our kids to hunting at a young age is very important to the future of our sport, but Kim is a perfect example of how someone past their “impressionable” years can grow to love the thrill of the hunt every bit as much as the most seasoned hunter in the field.

These past couple of years hunting, Kim has had her share of excitement—and disappointments. Our deer lease, a rather small tract of land by Texas standards, is located in prime deer hunting country north of Albany, in Throckmorton County. While the town of Athens, in East Texas, is our home, Kim went to school in Albany and still has family and friends in the area.

The 2006-’07 season found Kim maturing as a hunter. I noticed she was reading as much information about hunting as she could get her hands on. I purchased a book on aging whitetail deer on the hoof, and she quickly became a student in the “art” (those good at it will tell you it is indeed more art than science). Next, she kept wanting to write up some rules on a management plan for the lease. I told her that since there were only the two of us and my nephew Chris on the lease, a formal plan wasn’t necessary, but that wasn’t good enough for her.

While I was still just thinking about it, Kim took matters into her own hands and started identifying young bucks with “potential” that we should pass up (“we” meaning Chris and me). Her research included photographing as many deer as she could, so she could show us what not to shoot! Not to ignore the advice of a woman—which I hope will get me some brownie points—we heeded her words as we went about our hunting.

Though all her “management plans” were in place, while sitting on her stand one cold, November afternoon in 2006, the inevitable happened. It was an event that no doubt changed Kim’s life from that day forward, just as it has many a deer hunter before her and those who will follow. A “monster” buck walked out, and Kim contracted that dangerous, especially heinous, disease we all know as buck fever. And no, this wasn’t the every day, run-of-the-mill buck fever, this was the variety that affects every cell in you. You know, the type of buck fever that causes your whole body to convulse, where you shake so hard your hat falls off your head and you’re left with only one boot on.

This was not Kim’s first buck. She already had a few small, East Texas bucks, a fairly nice Arkansas buck, and a couple West Texas “good’ns” to her credit. But none compared to this big boy. Kim told me later that, while she’d been excited when she’d taken her other bucks, she had no idea about the severity of this thing called buck fever.

Well, you know the rest of that story. The monster buck walked off, leaving Kim to collect her composure, pick up things shaken off her body, and try to figure out what had just happened to her.
I’ll tell you what happened. What happened is that Kim underwent a transformation. Deer hunting was no longer something she did with her husband and friends. It became her passion, and the hunt for this monster buck was the fuel for her fire. Some-one who once before had been a little apprehensive about walking to her stand in the dark by herself now picked up the phone, took care of a few things back at the office, and convinced me to let her stay at the lease for another four or five days while she hunted for the monster. She had it all figured out. She would call her mom, borrow her mom’s car for a few days, then catch a flight home from Abilene to Tyler.

The monster buck never showed, and the end of the 2006-’07 season left Kim with all of her tags intact. And while she came home and life went back to normal, Kim was not the same.

Opening day of the 2007-’08 season found both of us in East Texas, working on our plans for the second weekend of our Throckmorton County hunt. Then Chris called, telling us that he had seen a large, wide-racked 10-point near Kim’s stand. That was all it took. The next thing I knew, Kim was packing clothes and guns. I told her I couldn’t go until the weekend, and I’m not sure what she said next, but it was something like, “Be careful, and I’ll see you when you get there.” I knew right then and there that I had created a hunting fanatic. Not that that’s a bad thing, it’s just not something commonly found in the female version of our species.

The big 10-pointer never showed, and the rest of the 2007-’08 season saw Kim making numerous trips west, many by herself, and sitting for untold hours waiting, waiting, waiting. By the end of the season she had racked up enough seat time to have a nickname for every buck within a 10-mile radius, and she had redesigned every window, hinge, shelf, door, and parts of her chair in the stand. (If you have ever spent hours upon hours in a deer stand, you know what I’m talking about).
For the last planned trip out west, we scheduled a few extra days around Christmas, and Kim took a nice cull buck one Saturday morning. Since ours is a one-buck county, she was done, and on our lease, when a member “shoots out,” as a courtesy, we usually make our stands available to others on the lease (i.e., Chris).
You probably already know where this is going. Sunday morning Chris went to Kim’s stand and, you guessed it, he tagged a good buck. While it wasn’t the big 10-point Chris had seen earlier, it was one of the best eight-point bucks I have ever seen. The brow tines were over 12 inches! No one had seen that buck before. So goes deer hunting. Kim, being a good sport, congratulated Chris on his fine trophy, then had a little breakdown. All the hours, all the preparation—who could blame her?
Back home, I thought about the past couple years. Uncertain if I could keep Kim’s enthusiasm for deer hunting going, I wondered if I would lose my hunting partner. Then I got an idea! What if I could find a year-end hunt for Kim on a managed whitetail ranch? Maybe South Texas, I thought. We had never hunted that area of the state before, but I knew they had big, big deer. In the office the next morning, I started making some calls. Eventually my search led to David Weigand with BowTech archery. An old friend, David also knew Kim, and when I told him of her experiences over the last two years, David was as determined as I was to make something happen. He made some calls and hooked me up with Jennifer Pearsall, editor of TTHA’s Journal, and she put me in touch with John Mills, a guide for TTHA founder Jerry Johnston and his Double JJ Ranch in Castroville, Texas (210-288-1558; www.jjtexasranch.com).
As soon as I finished talking with Jennifer and John, I knew we had made a good choice and something special was in store for Kim. When Kim was told of her “Christmas present,” she started crying and screaming at the same time. A girlfriend kidded her about all the things she could have received for Christmas instead of a deer hunt. Kim looked her straight in the eye and said, “You just don’t get it, do you?”
John understood the situation, and within days we had a hunt scheduled. We arrived at the ranch on a Friday around noon, unloaded the gear, met Jerry Johnston and his wife, Teresa, and headed off to the range. (And I’ll say here that the hospitality of the Johnstons was second to none. They all made sure we had everything we might need, and the meals were outstanding!) It only took a couple shots with her Browning A-bolt .25-06 to convince Shane, Teresa’s son and the ranch’s manager, and John that this girl knew how to shoot!
Kim passed on a buck that Friday afternoon’s hunt, but it was one that had her second-guessing herself all night instead of sleeping. She kept saying, “But it was the first hunt!” Still, we both wondered if she’d made the right choice. When the alarm sounded at five Saturday morning, Kim shot out of bed like a rocket, which, I can assure you, is not her usual wake-up routine.

That day’s hunt was similar to the previous afternoon’s. There were lots and lots of nice bucks, deer that any hunter would be proud of. But by this time in the season, Kim had looked at—and passed up—dozens upon dozens of “nice” bucks. She knew what she wanted, and this was not the time to compromise. John quickly got the picture and focused on making the season end on a good note for Kim.

For the Saturday afternoon hunt, John took us to the “Hotel Stand.” He didn’t need to tell Kim to be alert—she was like your best pointer in pen of quail. Every deer that walked out had her full attention. And while still fairly new to hunting, she’d been a quick learner. She knew the game, knew that when the single, nervous doe stepped out and kept looking back to the brush so, too, should she stare there. And so she did, eventually making out the buck. She could tell he had a large body, but could barely make out the horns.

With daylight fading, Kim tried to describe to John where the deer was located—John, though, couldn’t see him from his vantage in the stand. Kim estimated the big buck had stood in the same place, checking out the doe, for more than 15 minutes without moving a hair. John moved around in the stand, trying to get a look, but the next thing Kim heard was, “Get your gun, get your gun, get your gun!” Kim understood the importance of a guide telling her to do something three times in a repetitive manner, and she did not hesitate.

Kim recalled John asking her if she needed him to back her up as she aimed. Kim told me she’d thought to herself, What do you think, I’m a girl or something? but she simply answered, “No, I think I can get it.”
The huge, wide, 61⁄2-year-old nine-point lunged back into the brush, but not very far. The .25-06, and Kim, had done their jobs.

For Kim, the rush of emotions, stored up over two seasons, came pouring out. Finally, the trophy she had hunted so hard for. So many sacrifices, but the result, says Kim, “was worth every cold, freezing morning, every mile driven without a companion, every night spent alone at camp, every a.m. alarm buzzer.”

And me? Well, I was able to keep my hunting partner!