Dream on! Never stop believing, never stop dreaming! And I’m not talking Tinkerbell or Peter Pan dreams either. I’m talking big buck dreams from the big buck dreamlands in our dreamy little deerhunting heads!
I don’t have a crystal ball or a magical future predictor of any kind. In fact, I am always amazed at so many deerhunters whom I know that consistently predict which buck will show up where and when.
I strategize with all the smarts and experienced hunches I can muster, but it has always been a random roll of the dice for this old backstrapper.
I dream nonetheless and have on more than one occasion made some bold, cocky predictions of my own that unfortunately have never come to fruition.
But on November 2, 2017, the planets aligned, and my radar was on an alltime high and my luck meter pegged.
And it goes like this…
I hunt hard every day. No really! Every day!
And I like it and the inescapable frustration never comes close to the thrills and the happiness that every day afield brings me, kill or no kill.
But this buck kill is one for the books, the most important book of all, the Dream Books.
So as always, just before hitting the sack in my little Michigan swamp log cabin, I go to the front door and switch on the big floodlights and have a look at what might be in the cabin foodplot.
Whoa! What have we here! Amongst the scattering of does, fawns and young bucks stands Sir BuckO, a handsome 4 or 5-year old something, mature, classic, tall, wide, very symmetrical 8 pointer that we have no history with in the field or on trailcams.
I study him intently with my Bushnells as he stands regally surveying the deer activity all around him.
I immediately call son Toby and convey my discovery and lay out a plan.
I tell Toby how since the buck is on the high ground by the cabin at 9:30 at night, that maybe, just maybe, he will cruise the north marsh ridgeline looking for stinky does through the night, and maybe, just maybe if I walk the mile west before dawn and get in the new ladderstand, maybe, just maybe, I can ambush the 8-pointer in the morning.
Toby chuckles at his old man’s eternal optimism and says, “…sure dad, that’s what we dream every day we…
