This article was first published in the July 2024 issue of North American Whitetail magazine.
The buck stepped out in broad daylight, early enough in the afternoon that I hadn’t even gotten situated and settled in. He showed himself and I shot him, and it was really as simple as that. With the help of my good friend and hunting buddy, I dragged the buck ten yards to the middle of a two-track, backed the truck right up to him, and tossed him onto the tailgate. We were home so early that we had to wait on supper.
Even when a buck makes it easy on a guy, it’s still work getting one home and hung, and I fell into bed that night every bit as exhausted as I was exhilarated. I was sure I’d fall asleep the second my head hit the pillow, but instead, I tossed and turned. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d somehow cheated the hunt, that I had just lucked into my buck. That thought brought to mind all the bucks I hadn’t lucked into. All the early mornings and late nights. All the frozen fingers and frostbit toes. All the empty sits. It didn’t take me long to decide that I’ve earned plenty of deer. This one was a gift, and I wasn’t about to take it for granted. I remember thinking just before I finally slipped off into sleep that night that life couldn’t get any sweeter.
The next morning, though, I crawled into the blind with my hunting buddy and realized that I had been wrong. Dead wrong. There was indeed a way that life could get sweeter. Exponentially sweeter, in fact. Because there’s not a better feeling in the world than to go hunting with a buddy when you yourself are tagged out.
If you choose to go hunting with your buddy, that is. Because sleeping in is a legitimate and attractive option once you’re tagged out. It is a rare pleasure indeed to snuggle deeper into your sleeping bag while your hunting buddy pulls on starch stiff boots and struggles into his coveralls and staggers off into the dark.
If you do decide to leave the comfort of your sleeping bag to sit with your hunting buddy, though, you’ll notice right off the bat just how different the experience is. First of all, you’ll carry next to nothing. When there’s a tag in your pocket, you haul into the woods every piece of gear you think could possibly give you an advantage – tripods and decoys and grunt tubes and cover scents. But when you’re tagged out, your only real concern is your own personal warmth and comfort. As long as you’ve got a comfortable chair and a thermos full of hot coffee, everything is right in the world.
Speaking of coffee, it tastes better when you’re tagged out somehow. It’s stronger and sweeter. But then, that shouldn’t be surprising considering that the sense of taste isn’t the only sense that’s heightened after a successful hunt. Not only is coffee sweeter, colors are brighter. Sunshine is warmer. Oxygen is purer. Life is finer.
On the flipside, sharing a blind with a hunter who’s tagged out is about as annoying as sharing a couch with a couple in love. At least, that’s the feeling I’ve had the few times I’ve been fortunate enough to experience it. Every time I’ve scrolled through pictures and posted to social media the trophy shots of my buck, I’ve noticed that my hunting buddy starts squirming in his seat. When I’ve tried to rehash the details of my successful hunt the sixth or seventh time, I’ve been surprised to learn that my audience isn’t particularly interested in the conversation. And the times I’ve attempted to talk my hunting buddy into shooting an up and comer at the feeder have been met with inarticulate exasperation followed closely by graphic vulgarity. I’ve generally taken that as my cue to lean back in my chair, take another sip of that sweet coffee, and close my mouth for a minute. I’ve figured I might as well close my eyes while I’m at it.
Because you’re a good friend, you’ll poke your head out of the blind between naps and take a look around. You’ll reassure your hunting buddy that the coming cold front will get the deer on their feet and that mature bucks make mistakes when does are hot. You’ll tell him to stay alert, even as you nod off again. And you’ll say those things because you genuinely hope that your buddy will get a shot at a good buck. Just as long as it’s not as good as yours.
Wright Outdoors 