Shortness of breath. Elevated heart rate. Uncontrollable nerves.

These are the symptoms of heart attack victims. Sometimes in life, there are moments that can produce these same symptoms. These symptoms are most often duplicated in a hunter seeing a buck of a lifetime, be it a 10-year-old’s first spike, a weekend hunter’s first 140-class buck, or even a seasoned veteran with many Boone and Crockett trophies under his belt viewing any quality buck. Here’s my deer hunting “heart attack” story.

As I sat down to write this, I pondered when it had actually begun, and I decided its start really happened the first moment I laid eyes on a beautiful 31⁄2-year-old eight-point that I estimated would score in the high 140s. The buck was very determined at an early age to fight to be a dominant herd buck; I’d watched him take on every mature buck around the rut, and almost every year of his short life he’d break off at least one, if not several, of his tines.

In December 2003, a friend of the family was sitting in the stand in the area the buck I’d dubbed “Heart Attack” frequented. While there he spotted a large six-point buck and called to get confirmation for the go-ahead to shoot. It was agreed and we hung up, but almost instantly I realized what deer the hunter was looking at! Immediately a call was placed back to the hunter, telling him to stand down from shooting the eight-point with broken brow tines.

That was a close one—this story was almost over before it even started! The buck survived the season, throughout which we videoed and took many beautiful pictures of him. We knew that, if we let him age, he would be the deer dreams are made of, and indeed, by 2004 he’d absolutely blown up, growing into a main-frame 10-point with two mule deer forks. The sheds we found from him following that season’s end scored 171 gross Boone and Crockett (B&C).

As he matured, the buck changed his pattern. Around the end of November the year he turned 41⁄2, the monster buck disappeared until the end of January; not a single sighting of him occurred in that two-month period. This new pattern was one he’d keep over the next few years—and it was always nerve-wracking, wondering where he was.

With the advent of the 2005-’06 season, “Heart Attack” was 51⁄2 years old, and we expected good things. But when he showed up on our game cameras as only a mainframe nine-point with a kicker, we worried that maybe we’d underestimated his age, that maybe he was past his prime. We debated back and forth about taking him. Over and over before the season we debated, and we finally decided we should roll the dice one more time and pass on him.

It seemed like the 2006-’07 season was never going to get here. In March I was blessed by marriage to my beautiful wife, Callie. She’s truly my best friend, one in a million, and she showed the utmost support, when I set off traipsing through the brush. The summer months went by slowly, and I was on pins and needles waiting to see what “Heart Attack” would do that season. We’d had ample rainfall, and I really felt the stage was set for taking what would now be a 61⁄2-year-old buck, our minimum age for taking trophy whitetails on our property. He was a beautiful mainframe 10-point with one long, abnormal point growing off the back of his right G-2. He looked to be in the 180s. I was pumped and ready, having whiled away the off-season, practicing long and hard to hone my shooting skills. I had just one problem. Work and other obligations were such that my time afield would be limited. To maximize what opportunity I did have, I set up to make a run at taking him the opening weekend of general season with my bow.

The moment I walked into the house at our ranch, my dad looked at me with an extremely sad look on his face. He said to me, “I don’t know how to tell you this, and you probably won’t believe me, but, ‘Heart Attack’ has broken off both his brow tines.” I was absolutely sick to my stomach when I saw the video that proved my dad right. Dad looked at me after the tape finished and said, “It’s your call.” I thought hard for a few minutes, fully aware that this buck was now 61⁄2 years old and most likely would never get any better—but I rolled the dice yet again.

We went the entire months of December and January without seeing him. I was almost certain he was dead from fighting, but then caught a glimpse of him at the end of doe season and saw that he was very much alive and healthy. Relieved, I sought further solace in the months preceding the 2007-’08 season, which were blessed with more than abundant rainfall. To top it off, my dad had found both sides to “Heart Attack’s” sheds in late April. Adding back in an estimate for his broken tines, we figured he’d gone between 183 and 186 gross B&C, a real brute.

Once again the summer dragged by. In August, at the last minute, I decided to purchase a new bow, a BowTech Tribute, and immediately went to work tuning it. It took some time getting used to it, but ultimately I found myself sailing my new NAP Spitfire-topped Victory arrows into my targets one on top of another.
While my practice went well, I was disturbed that “Heart Attack” hadn’t been showing himself on the trail cameras anywhere. July and August had passed without a sighting. I was worried sick that he was dead, until relief came late in August, when the buck was seen on our Moultrie I-60 trailcam. He tortured me, though, for almost another entire month before we caught him again.

Dad called me the evening of September 21 and told me he had an awesome picture of “Heart Attack” and that he looked huge. With nervous anticipation, I walked Dad through e-mailing me a picture over the phone. It took almost an hour, but it was well worth the wait! The buck was now a beautiful mainframe 10 with three kickers.

I got to work patterning him by using the lunar and time information from his appearances on the Moultrie camera and comparing it to the lunar charts. Yet opening weekend of bow season came and went without a sighting. I chalked it up to the heat and the full moon, not the best conditions for hunting in South Texas. I looked at the charts again and scheduled a week’s vacation from work.

My vacation time came, but it was still hot and the deer were moving late. A couple of our regular bucks showed up about 6:30 one evening and milled about. At 7:10, my dad, who was with me to take video, looked down a long sendero to my left, an area that I could not see. Almost unbelievably I heard, “That’s him!”
“Heart Attack” took his time meandering down the sendero. He finally walked up to within 45 yards of our setup and then stopped for a second. I looked at him one time to verify it was him and then looked back down for fear I’d get buck fever and be unable to shoot. I looked up again after a couple seconds. He was just within my bow range.

I had to wait to draw, because a young fawn had moved in between me and the buck. Daylight grew dim, and I knew I’d have little time to make the shot happen.
The fawn cleared after a couple minutes, and I ranged the buck at 31 yards. I set my pin to 28 yards to compensate for the drop and tried to steady my shaking hands as I put my release on my loop. I drew back, watching the buck turn perfectly to give me a slight quartering-away angle, and I sent the arrow down its path of destiny.

The Victory arrow tipped with my Spitfire hit its mark, and I studied the buck as he bounded off into the brush with all the signs of a vital organ hit. My dad looked at me shaking and smiling and told me that the buck was much larger than we had thought and that he’d gotten it all on video.
We pulled out of the stand quietly and walked back to the house. We watched the video and felt that the shot had been good, but decided to wait a while before going back to trail him. Our good friend Matt Patek showed up about 8:45 ready to help out with the tracking, and we all headed out with all the flashlights we could find.

At 9:45 we picked up his trail.

After just 50 yards, the blood just simply ran out. My heart sank, and I knew that the best thing we could do was to pull out and call in some tracking dogs. I placed a call to Roy Hindes, who answered his phone and hit the road despite the late hour.

When Roy arrived at the house, we looked over the video and then immediately headed to the stand. Roy’s lead tracking dog, Gus, was released and quickly hit the trail. We hadn’t followed the dog long through the brush, when it became apparent where we’d gone wrong in our earlier effort. “Heart Attack” had backtracked and circled around on us before heading east—we’d been headed north. Roy stopped us shortly, hushed us to listen for Gus biting at the deer’s rump. Dad and Matt heard it first, and we all took a few steps more through the brush, and with me at the front, I peeked over clump of brush to see the deer of a lifetime lying on the ground dead. “There he is!” I exclaimed, barreling through the brush to get my hands on him.
Once at the buck’s side, I knew without a doubt he was larger than what we’d thought—in fact, he looked like he would actually break 190. Roy exclaimed that he was the largest deer he had ever found.

“Heart Attack’s” final score varied between measurers, but his official B&C score came to 1943⁄8 (one scorer had him as high as 1962⁄8). He carried a magnificent frame 271⁄2 inches wide, with matching 29-inch main beams, 13-inch tines, and 34 inches of mass. He field dressed at a whopping 198 pounds. He was and is all I could ask for, and more. And the best part was that I’d taken him sitting in a stand with the man who started me hunting. Thanks, Dad. A big thanks also goes out to everyone on www.texasbowhunter.com and www.lonestarbowhunters.com, for encouraging me on and standing by our side all night long, as we looked for this brute. A special thanks goes out to my beautiful wife, Callie, Roy Hindes, “Gus,” Joe Jasek, Don Comedy, Matt Patek, Anthony Weeaks, and anyone else I may have forgotten. This truly was one of the greatest moments of my life. Thank you all for letting me share it with you.