This article was first published in the August 2024 issue of North American Whitetail magazine.
In the world of fine art, the racks of whitetail bucks are invariably depicted one of two ways: either they are rendered as classically framed fourteen pointers with nary an inch of deduction, or they are portrayed as prehistoric looking non-typicals with half a dozen drop tines dripping off each main beam. Oddly enough, I’ve yet to see either variation in the wild.
No, the deer I’ve hunted have been decidedly more run of the mill. And yet at the same time, every single buck I’ve ever shot has been singularly unique. That may well be the thing I love most about the racks of whitetail deer. One tom turkey might have a longer beard or a sharper spur than the rest of his running buddies, but there aren’t enough discernible differences between them to distinguish one from the other. And save for the occasional banded leg, the vast majority of waterfowl and upland game birds are carbon copies of one another. But the same can’t be said for whitetails. They are, every last one of them, utterly unique.
Take, for instance, the eight point buck I tagged in 2008. He was tall tined and heavy beamed, but he looked like he’d survived a head on collision with a semi-truck because one of those heavy beams canted way in towards the middle of his head, shaving six inches or so off his inside spread. That oddity certainly didn’t stop me from shooting him, and incidentally, it’s the first thing my friends note when I pull his skull mount off the shelf to show him off.
The nine point I shot in 2012 was sure enough unique. Based on what I’ve read from biologists, a bug had evidently burrowed beneath the buck’s velvet sometime in the early summer because he had what amounted to a feed trough smack dab in the middle of his left main beam. I didn’t know that, though, until I got an up close and personal look at his rack. The ten inch G-2 on his right side had been all I needed to see to pull the trigger on that deer.
The buck that’s nearest and dearest to my heart has more unique characteristics than any one whitetail has a right to claim. I ought to know, I’ve spent enough time staring at him. Like 2012’s nine point, I didn’t know exactly what I’d shot that morning until I lifted his head out of the leaves. When I saw the sapling shavings in the bases of his beaded brow tines and the whale tail kicker on his G-2, I got weak in the knees. I pried open his mouth to check the wear on his teeth and was shocked to find that my buck had canines. Upon that discovery, I had to sit down, as it’s believed that less than 1% of whitetail deer have eye teeth.
God broke the mold with that buck, and everyone who’s ever admired his shoulder mount above my fireplace wholeheartedly agrees. But honestly, that’s the way I feel about every whitetail I’ve ever shot. From the first buck in my bag, a year old spike, to the most recent, a scar muzzled six point, every single one of them has been unique.
Chances are, I’ll never kill one of those fine art bucks, and honestly, that’s fine by me. Because I’m perfectly happy with unique.
Wright Outdoors 