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Having been standing near the deer trail for a short period of time, I heard three gunshots over the horizon of the ridge in front of me. The shots came from one of the deer-chasers in the hunting group. Suddenly within seconds I could hear what seemed like a heavy animal galloping on frozen earth among the fallen crisp leaves spread on the ground. The noise came from approximately seventy-five metres to my left, and then suddenly I spotted a large deer with extending antlers descending the slope. I immediately took aim at the deer and fired, but to my surprise the deer pivoted and continued to run horizontally in front of me at a speed and grace almost unimaginable. I fired again at the deer in full throttle, and then the buck disappeared over the ridge among the hardwood trees.

During a lapse of time, which seemed forever, I did not feel disappointed for having missed the buck, but instead became very concentrated and ready for whatever hunting action would come my way. Then once again gunshots were fired, and to my amazement the massive buck was heading directly toward me. Within seconds, the deer was suddenly within ten metres, rushing straight at me, and all I could stare at was the buck’s glazing eyes, puffed-up neck, muscular shoulders and large rack. At this moment, I fired two rapid, precise shots from my open sight .300 Savage rifle, aiming at the buck’s immense neck. Both shots went in under his chin, straight on. The buck buckled, tumbled, and rolled right up to my hunting boots.

The toe-to-toe sensation of having downed a massive ten-point buck was overwhelming, and the thrill brought to me the unbelievable satisfaction of fait accompli. All the years dedicated to learning the skills of hunting and respect for wildlife taught to me by my father and older brothers helped me become a complete and unselfish deer hunter.

This story is in memory of my Dad, Aurele Breton, who was my deer hunting mentor while growing up at the cottage in Venosta, and who was near by, on this fall day.

Rick Breton

TOE TO TOE WITH A TEN-POINT BUCK

On a calm and brisk fall day, in November, 1978, I had the opportunity to position myself near a runway, on what is known as Merritt’s Hill. This forest terrain, with its scenic hills, ridges, gullies and standing hardwood, was an ideal location, where deer habitually traveled.

Toe to Toe with a Ten Point Buck