Updated
Chapter xvii
The “Mountain Mike!” Story
As I hunted the old mountain buck in my mind and tried to piece together a plain for his demise, I had to wonder, has his nocturnal nature made him un-killable?
The vast, rugged mountains you can see behind me was the domain of Mountain Mike and his namesake.
“Dad it’s the rut, when are you going to hunt Mountain Mike,” ask my son A.J. over supper? ”When things get right; it’s too dry and warm now,” I replied. “I wished you would quit naming these deer,” interrupted my wife Karen. “Every time one reaches the status that you name him he ends up on our table. I don’t know why but it’s hard for me to eat a buck that you and the boys talk about a lot and call by name.” She continued. “I don’t think you have much to worry about with this old buck,” I replied. “He’s awfully afraid of the daylight.”
Mountain Mike had been a name spoken almost daily in my home since early August 2007. Even though I knew that somewhere in the remote mountains of East Tennessee lived this old buck; I often wondered, would our paths ever cross?
My First Encounter With Mike
Mountain Mike, as he came to be known, was the most nocturnal buck that I have ever hunted. Every trail photo and wildlife-eye video I got of the buck was at night. I saw him only once and that was in 2005 during the peak of the rut. As I watched him from a distance, I could tell even at the young age of 3 ½--he did not like moving around during daylight. He was moving fast and kept turning his head from side to side looking for danger. His actions reminded me of an older age--class buck that had gotten drawn out into daylight by a hot doe or forced movement.
I had gotten my first trail photo of the buck a couple of months earlier on September 23rd 2005; an unassuming event at the time. After studying the photograph, I decided to cull him if I had the opportunity. Even though he was big-boned with a tall, long body; he did not have the kind of genes I wanted to see spread around. He was a clean 8--point, and at the age of 3 ½, I figured he would always be an 8--point. He was also fairly narrow and weak on his brow tines, and mass.
There were some other distinguishing characteristics about his rack. His left side was a little better than his right, and his right main beam dropped down below his left at the tip. His only good trait was that he had long G-2s. Even at the age of 3 ½ I believe they were about 11 inches long. These distinguishing characteristics he carried the remainder of his life.
This is the first photograph I got of Mountain Mike. At the age of 3 ½ this was an unassuming event at the time.
Even though I never targeted this buck specifically, I did expect to see him some more and perhaps get a shot at him since the rut was going strong and he was an energetic 3 ½ year-old. I never saw him again; neither did I get any more trail photos of him that year.
Mike Was Still Around A Year Later
The following year, 2006, when he was 4 ½, I started getting Wildlife--Eye video of him in August and that continued through the year. I also got one trail photo of him that year. The buck was still a clean 8-point. His G-2s were around 12 inches long and I believe he would have scored about 140. As a side note; let me mention that the big 8--point was often in the presence of another 8--point which was a year younger. Several times we got Wildlife-Eye video of the two bucks sparring. The 3 ½ year-old 8--point was easily recognized because he had exceptional long brought tines. My son Clay said the long, crooked brow tines looked like daggers , therefore we began calling him Dagger.
This is the trail photograph I got of Mountain Mike when he was 4 ½ years old. The photo was taken on August 6, 2006
A personal note: On April 5th, 2008 I found one side of Mountain Mike’s sheds from last year when he was 4 ½ years old. His G-3 had been eaten on quite a bit by rodents however; I could still measure its entire length because only on one side of the tine had been eating. The remainder of the antler had hardly been touched. I was correct in assuming that his G-2 was 12 inches long. His main beam was 25 inches. When I added the measurements on the antler and doubled it and added a 16 inch inside spread I come up with a score of 143 ½ inches.
I still had in mind to cull the 4 ½ year-old 8 point if the opportunity presented itself. However, I did not target him because he was not what I considered a trophy.
The property the buck was living on was hunted fairly heavily by archery as well as firearm hunters, I hoped one of them would shoot the buck during the rut.
By the end of the 2006 dear season, it became apparent to me that this was no ordinary buck. No other individual hunting the property had laid eyes on him. And that I was aware of, he had only moved once during daylight; and that was the time in 2005 when I had seen him. I had gotten no images of him in daylight, even during the rut. That did not overly concern me since the buck was not what I considered a trophy. However-- that all changed in 2007.
Discovering A Giant 8-Point
As I usually do, I made mineral licks on all my hunting areas in Tennessee during the spring of 2007. In mid July I placed Leaf River trail--cameras on several of the mineral licks. The first camera I checked in early August was within a few yards of a 20 acre thicket. On this camera I had captured two photos of a huge 8--point! His G-2s appeared to be14 or 15 inches long and he had exceptionally long main beams and good mass. As I studied the photos, I noticed that his right main beam tip was lower than his left. That is when I realized; this was the big 8--point that I had been watching thought images since he was 3 ½ years old.
Wow—had he grown! He was now 5 ½ years old and he had put on at least 20 inches from the year before. He was a 160 class 8--point with a mammoth body. I like big 8--points and they don’t come much bigger in Tennessee -- or anywhere else for that matter.
My Leaf River trail--camera captured these two images of the big 8 point On August 7, 2007
I also got photographs of Dagger on the same mineral lick. Dagger had turned into a great 4 ½ year-old 9 point. His brow tines now appeared to be 7 or 8 inches long. I was not interested in hunting Dagger since he was only 4 ½ years old.
I decided to target the 5 1/2 year old 8--point for two reasons. At 5 ½ he was more than likely the most dominant buck in the area and would be passing around his 8--point genes a lot --this I did not want. I also wanted to shoot him because a 160 inch, 5 ½ year old 8--point is a trophy in anyone’s book. Especially, when you consider he got this old in a fairly heavily hunted piece of property. He would be the buck that I would hunt in Tennessee in 2007.
Because of the rugged mountainous terrain where he lived in East Tennessee, I started calling him “Mountain Mike.” As it is with any big deer I target; along with the thrill of patterning and hunting him comes the concern that he might not survive long enough for me to put an arrow through him.
I was especially concerned this past fall. We suffered one of the worst droughts in history. Along with the drought came “blue tongue.” It spread rapidly because of the lack of running streams, and the dwindling water sources in general. Gnats spread the dreaded disease throughout our deer herd as they congregated at the few remaining watering holes. The State Game and Fish Department predicted that Tennessee would lose between 35 and 50% of the deer herd. There were a lot of dead deer found on the properties were I hunt. Of course, I was very concerned that blue tongue might be the fate of Mountain Mike as well.
As it is always the case, I was also concerned that the emotions of selfishness and greed delivered by the hands of a poacher’s spot light and rifle would take Mike’s life. Poaching is a major problem in the area where I live. I was very keen to the danger that these criminals posed to Mike and was very vigilant in my efforts not to allow this to happen.
Closing In On Mike
About two weeks after I got the photo, I walked over the location where the mineral lick was located. On the opposite side of the 20 acre thicket was a natural woods pond. Since water was at a premium, I decided to see if the pond had dried up. As I walked up to the bank I could see there was about 150 gallons of water remaining. As you might have guessed, there were deer tracks--lots of them-- around the water.
As I looked around the pond to see how the majority of deer were traveling to it, I found something very interesting. About 30 yards from the water was a very large, fresh scrape!! The scrape was about 6 or 7 feet wide and 10 feet long. The date was August 14! I felt like Mountain Mike and Dagger were probably both using the scrape. Many hunters do not realize that bucks make and use scrapes while they are still in velvet. I have many trail photos and Wildlife—Eye video of bucks of all ages, working scrapes while they still have their velvet on.
After I thought about it, I realized, what a better place for an old buck to advertise his presence to other bucks and to the area does. Every doe and buck in the area was coming to the pond almost daily to drink.
I set up my Wildlife-Eye camera facing the scrape in hopes I would find out if the big 8--point was the maker. When I returned to check my camera 7 days later, I had captured one video clip of the Mountain Mike followed shortly by Dagger coming to the scrape.
A week later I checked it again. I had once again gotten a video clip of the two big bucks. That was the last video I got of Mountain Mike at that location. Realizing he must have moved, I placed cameras on all of my mineral licks in the vicinity. About 10 days I got a “hit” in some bottoms off in a valley about a ½ mile away. This was the only place with a substantial acorn crop. There were also a lot of green honeysuckle vines around the location.
I put out some LeafRiver trail--cameras on his feeding locations in the bottoms. Most of the time it was not a problem to get photographs of him. Over the years he had become accustomed to having his photographs taken and I was not afraid the cameras would frighten him. However, I did believe human scent could cause the buck to change his feeding locations. I only checked the cameras every couple of weeks and when I did I used complete scent control.
During the early morning hours of September 16th, I captured his photograph on one of my mineral licks. He was in full velvet. Later that same night I got another photograph of him and there was blood all over his hard horns and velvet was hanging off his horns and across his face. I had photographed him shedding his velvet!
Mountain Mike shedding his velvet on September 16th
On two different occasions I failed to capture him on film for a couple of weeks. Each time this happened, the thought that he has succumbed to blue tongue would linger in my mind. In each instance, when I had just about decided he was gone, I would begin to get photographs of him again.
As hunting season approached, I began to get more concerned about poaching.
I also knew that there would be more hunters than in previous seasons hunting the property where he lived. I felt like this was less of a liability than the poachers and blue tongue because of the nocturnal nature of the old buck.
By mid October, I was continuing to get photographs of a very healthy Mountain Mike, so I decided he was more than likely going to escape death, like he had done so many years before. The big deer had put on a lot of weight by the middle of October and looked like he would field-dress around 230 pounds.
By the middle of October Mountain Mike had put on a lot of weight.
As I began to think about hunting him, I did not feel confident that I would be able to arrow him. What concerned me was his nocturnal nature.
By the end of October, I had not obtained one single trail photo of the deer within 3 hours of daylight, even though I had gotten 25 or so photographs of him. The two Wildlife- Eye video clips shot of him, were during the middle of the night also. While my family was enjoying the photographs of the huge deer and getting excited about the prospects of me shooting him, I did not share their optimism.
My wife reminded me that I had never felt confident that I would get any of the big deer that I had hunted and it always had worked out. Thinking about it, I guess the reason I have had so much success is because I don’t use the lack of optimism as an excuse not to hunt hard. Quite to the contrary, the more difficult I believe a buck will be to kill--the harder I hunt him.
“If you put a lot of hard work into killing a mature buck and fail, you are vastly better off than if you put no effort into it-- and succeed.” B.W.
I believe the number one reason most hunters don’t succeed is the lack of effort. I probably hung 40 stands not to mention the ones I took down and re-hung this past season. I also walked countless miles while scouting, and most of it was on terrain steeper than a horse’s face. I did all this while working a fulltime job and run a very demanding farming business.
When a hunter tells me that he would do anything to kill just one deer like the ones on my wall; I think to myself--I believe you would do anything--anything that is, except put in the hard work and sacrifice the time it would take you to accomplish it.
I hung several stands around Mountain Mike’s feeding area. I hoped as the rut approached I would begin to get the old buck’s photograph closer to legal shooting light. By the end of the second week of November, it had not happened. I realized I was not going to be able to kill this old deer anywhere near the bottom.
During the next few days I spent a lot of time thinking about how and where I was going to shoot him. I do a lot of my hunting in my head. (I guess there is enough room there for my boys to hunt some also.)
A New Revelation
When I first began getting photographs of Mountain Mike in the bottoms, I believed he was bedded in some thick paper company pines that were located within a couple 100 yards of the bottoms. However, I finally realized that this was not the case. If he was bedded in the pines close to the bottoms as I suspected, it would not take so long for him to enter his feeding areas, even if he was leaving his bed after dark. I had no photographs of him within 3 hours of daylight.
As I thought the situation over,
I began to believe that he was bedding in some rugged ridges that were very
steep and vast. I had not really considered this before because of the distance
from the bottoms to the ridges. Generally speaking, as a buck gets older his
home range becomes smaller. However, a buck’s individual personality and the
deer density have a lot to do with the distance he will travel.
Despite the many photographs that Bobby had gotten of Mountain Mike he had not obtained one of him within 3 hours of daylight.
I was the only person who ventured into these mountains enough to know much about them. I knew from previous trips into the mountains that there are three different ridge backbones, or fingers which lay North and South that leads from the bottoms up into the mountains. All of the fingers merged to within 50 yards of each other where they end at the top of a steep hollow which lays East and West. Most of the deer traveling to the ridges from the bottoms would use one of the three finger ridges or the drainage between them as a travel corridor. I realized the ridge fingers would not be the place to set up on the old deer. If the buck was traveling back and forth from the ridges to the bottoms there was no way of knowing which travel corridors he would use on any given day. If a picked the wrong one to hunt he could be on another that is down wind of me and smell me. One such unsuccessful encounter would make him much more difficult to hunt.
I knew there was a better place to hunt the great 8. Because of my scouting trips I knew that the steep hollow heads up and fades out about 100 yards above the point where the ridges intersected it. Instead of traveling straight down the steep side of the hollow and up the other side, 90% of the deer traffic merge together into one trail and turned right (west) to go around the rim of the hollow up to the head to cross. This formed a classic funnel.
After I thought about it a day or two, I told my boys that I knew where I could kill Mountain Mike. I told them that it was forecasted to rain Monday evening November 19, and that I was going to hang a stand Monday afternoon just before the rain came in.
Arlis James (A.J.) who is 16 was preoccupied that evening, however, my 15 year old son Clay who is very interested in big bucks (even though he had never shot a buck) wanted to go with me to hang the stand.
I asked Clay if perhaps we should hang a double set so we could hunt together and video each other. He was all for it. Hunting mature bucks has always been a solitary undertaking for me. However, I decided the enjoyment of trophy hunting with my son and perhaps capturing his first buck killed on film, would be worth the negative affect it could have.
So, Monday evening with two stands on our backs we made the hard climb into the ridges. When we finally reached a place just below the location where the finger ridges met the hollow, we laid our stands down for a break before we climbed up a little further to have a look around.
Clay looked at me puzzled. He asked, “how far are we from where we are getting Mountain Mike’s pictures?” I told him we were about ¾ to 1 mile from the bottoms. Clay asked, “How--in--the--world do you figure that you will shoot him way up here in the mountains.” I tried to explain my reasoning; however, he was not convinced that I should set up so far away from the bottoms.
After a short break we put on our Elimatrax and walked the remainder of the way up to the funnel to look around. I always put on the Elimatrax anytime during the fall when I am scouting a mature buck’s area. The number one thing you do not want to do is to let an old wile buck know that he is being hunted.
The first thing I wanted to do was look at a thigh--size hemlock close to the head of the hollow which had been rubbed last year. I now suspected that it was rubbed by the then 4 1/2 year-old 8--point. As we approached the hemlock, I could see it had been freshly worked. There were also three scrapes under its lower branches. When I inspected the damage done to the limbs and ground, I told Clay that an old buck had made the sign, and that I believed the old deer was Mountain Mike. Although Clay was impressed with the sign, and believed that a mature buck was using the area; he was still not convinced this was where I should be hunting for the great 8--point. As we moved back and forth at the location where the deer traffic funneled together it took me about 45 minutes to decide on the best tree to hang the stands in. We hung the stands and got everything like we wanted it just as it begin to rain.
I believed these scrapes and this rubbed hemlock were made by Mountain Mike!
Because of the nocturnal nature of the old mountain deer, I knew the situation for deer movement would have to be perfect for him to move during daylight hours. The number one thing I look for, once the rut begins, is cold temperatures. The weatherman predicted that Friday November 23rd, the day after thanksgiving, would be the coldest day of the year. The low for that morning would be in the low twenties and the high for the day would be in the low forties; the perfect temperatures for all--day rut movement.
A Wonderful Day
November 23rd dawned clear with a heavy frost on the ground. It was a good day to be alive and in a tree stand with my youngest son Clay surrounded by vast hardwood hollows and ridges.
The deal Clay and I had worked out was that if any buck, other than Mountain Mike showed up, I would video and Clay would get an opportunity at his first buck, if the buck was what we wanted to see harvested. If Mountain Mike appeared on the scene, Clay would be more than happy to video for me. He had already decided he did not want the first buck he ever shot at to be a monster. He wanted to get some experience on smaller bucks before he was faced with the challenge of shooting a mature buck. He felt like this would lessen his chances of a miss, or much worse, a wounded deer.
We saw two does and the 4 ½ year-old, 9 point we call Dagger early that morning off on a distance ridge. I had to silently wonder, was seeing Dagger an omen? Was his ever present partner near?
We saw no other deer for the next 3 hours. This is not unusual, even under perfect conditions, during the rut, in our neck of the woods. There is a low deer density here in the mountains and sometimes we may hunt three or four days in a row and not see a deer.
By 9:00 the wind had really picked up. I looked around at Clay and noticed, because of the cold, and I guess boredom, he was hunkered up and starring straight at his feet, instead of keeping a watch on the ridge on his side of the tree
I decided to stand and survey the ridge and hollows in front of Clay. I immediately saw a doe standing on the opposite side of the big hollow approximately 150 yards away. She was walking to my right and slightly away. I knew her course would take her to the head of the big hollow and back around to our location.
I whispered, “Clay there’s a doe over there on the ridge. Look behind her for a buck.” A few seconds later, I noticed another deer standing about 30 yards from the doe. The other deer’s body dwarfed the doe’s. Then I saw horns--Big Horns!!! I said, “There’s a buck.” When I put my binoculars to my eyes; I knew at once that it was the old mountain buck that had consumed so much of my thoughts over the past 3 ½ months. To be quite honest--I was surprised to be able to lay eyes on him for the second time in his life the first time I hunted him.
I whispered to Clay--“its Mountain Mike!!!” Clay looked at me in disbelief and slowly began to stand and reach for the video camera. As I handed it to him I put it on standby and hit the record button. “Its recording,” I said as I reached for my Mathews LD. As soon as I had my bow in my hand things begin to happen really fast.
The doe picked up her pace and traveled around the side of the ridge until she reached the head of the hollow. She then turned right and started moving around the side of the ridge we were on. Mountain Mike was in tow. The big buck was not pushing the doe. He kept his distance and stayed about 30 or 40 yards behind. He tried to keep an unassuming posture (as old bucks often do.) He did not want to push her into flight.
The doe had approached to about 27 yards and was milling around. I glanced at Clay and noticed that he had not moved the camera up to his eye or turned it toward the deer. I whispered, “Clay, you’re not filming the deer.” He whispered back, “I can’t move, I’m afraid.” I told him that the doe was close on his left side. He whispered that he was afraid that she would see him if he moved; and that he was going to wait and film Mountain Mike when he got close.
I looked around the side of the ridge and I could see the old buck approaching fast. I knew I could not give him a chance to see or sense us. “You better start filming him,” I said. “I’m going to kill him quick,” I continued.
These deer living in the mountains of East Tennessee are not half--tame farmland deer. It is my belief that they are the most wile and hard--to--kill--deer on earth. They suspect everything, and have the most keenly honed senses of any deer--living--anywhere. If an ATV cranks its engine ½ mile away, these deer will turn inside out fleeing the area. I believe the statement--“wild as a buck”--came from big--woods mountain deer. They truly are the masters of the forest.
I knew better than to hold up on the shot until we had some nice footage of the buck walking by in the open. I knew that if I gave this 5 ½ year-old buck half a chance he would be gone--possibly forever. I intended to shoot him as soon as he got within bow range.
Clay slowly turned the camera on the buck when he was about 40 yards away walking straight toward our location. Mountain Mike continued for about another 10 yards, to the point where the doe had been standing. About that time, for reasons that are unknown to me, the doe trotted about 40 yards and stopped. She may have saw something or she may have just wanted to put more distance between her and the big buck.
When she trotted down the hill, she got Mountain Mike’s attention. For about 15 seconds he stood still and surveyed the area all around him. He soon decided all was well, and began turning in a circle smelling the ground and vegetation where the doe had been standing. I believe he was trying to evaluate her state of estrus. When he dropped his head, I drew my bow. He was in a thick location with a lot of saplings and limbs between me and him.
I desperately tried to find a hole to shoot through. As he moved into position quartering away he moved his rib cage into an opening about the size of an apple. I felt confident that I could place my arrow through the hole. I took careful aim and released. When my arrow reached him I thought I saw a hole open up in the back of his rib cage. However, I was not sure.
The old buck begin running down the steep hill toward the hollow. I immediately lost sight of him behind Clay and the tree, however, I could hear that he had turned and was now running straight toward us. Not knowing for sure if I had hit him, I quickly removed another arrow from my quiver. I looked around just in time to see him running under Clay’s feet. He ran about another 30 yards up the hill and started stumbling. He went down and rolled down the steep ridge about 10 yards before he became tangled. A few seconds later he was still.
The deed was done--The old mountain monarch was following his moonlit shadow through the valley for the last time.
I turn toward the camera which was now focused on me in front of a very excited 15 year old and said, “I just killed MOUNTAIN MIKE!!”
My broadhead had entered the back of the rib cage on his left side, and had exited right behind the leg knuckle on the right side. It had made short order of the huge buck.
He is one of my most cherished trophies for many reasons. Top on that list is the fact that I was able to share this experience with a trophy hunter in the makings; my 15 year old son Clay.
What are his measurements? Score is not as big an issue with me in determining what a trophy is as age. However, for those of you who are curious, his back tines are 14 ½ and 13 ¾ inches. His G-3s are 10 and 9 7/8 inches long. He has exceptional main beams for a Tennessee deer. The left one is 27 inches and the right is within a few fractions of an inch to the same length. He also has excellent mass. Although his inside spread is just 16 inches he grosses 158 ½ inches. He loses about 2 ¼ inches for side to side deductions. Mountain Mike has three features that are very desirable to me. His rack is a beautiful dark chocolate color. All of his tines are tilted forward and he has unbelievable high to his rack.
I sometimes regret that the old mountain buck is no longer out there to challenge me. However, I know there will be others in the big woods of East Tennessee that will make their way into my dreams. I just hope the next will challenge me the way Mountain Mike did--as I search my mind for a place to meet him.
