Eric Childs, 38
Location: New York
Gear: Phantom Elite, Predator Platform
On Jan 1, 2023 I made a decision that this year would be the year I gave it my all. I've been hunting for 7 years, hunting predominantly with a bow for 3 years, and hunting with a saddle for 2 years. I scouted and trained religiously. The Catskill Mountains are not an easy terrain to locate big bucks. I've been successful every year taking does, and on one other occasion a small buck, but I've only encountered a big buck twice, once in my truck and once far out of bow range. High pressure and touch conditions keep the big ratio low.
When September 30 rolled around I felt ready. Dialed in on all fronts. I had 2 saddle lanes carved out for opening day. One for the morning and one for the evening in an old (around 60 years) apple orchard on a private property deep in the Catskills. The morning hunt was beautiful but only brought out a couple of yearlings. Temps were forecasted in the low 70s so my hopes were not high for much movement. After a midday stalk hunt on another property, I gathered my gear and went back to the orchard. I was up in my tree around 3pm. With the last light around 7pm I had 4 solid hours of hunting in front of me.
The wind was pretty steady on my face but did a rear-end swirl ever so often. The tree I was hanging in was on the edge of the property's garden and orchard. I had a wide-open 40-yard lane in front of me with apple trees to my left and right. The edge of the property was 50 yards away to my right which held a primary bedding area the deer used regularly.
At about 5:30 the sun started to go down. Then, to my right, I caught movement and froze. Coming out of the property edge was a giant set of antlers. As you can imagine my entire body went into adrenalin mode but my training paid off. Without hesitation, I swung 90 degrees to the left, putting myself behind the tree between the approaching buck. I knew that if I tried to get aim as he was approaching I would be busted. So I locked into my training and froze in a seated position with my toes on my platform and knees dug into the tree.
The ensuing minutes were excruciating. Every fiber in my body wanted to poke my head around the tree and then look at those antlers. Is he still there? Is he looking at me? Is the wind going to switch on me? I wanted to look so bad but I held true. After what seemed like an hour but was more like 15 minutes of wondering if I had been busted, my buck casually walked out right in front of me 20 yards angling slightly left. It was a bit of an extreme angle but I knew I could tuck a shot in the back of his stomach and my broadhead would pass through him to his vitals. I pulled back, fired, and watched as my arrow hit the mark. The buck ran 20 yards and dropped.
After a few minutes of tears and shaking I climbed down my tree to find my buck. The sun was edging over the tree line right where he lay between a row of apple trees. It couldn't have been a more beautiful site. After honoring the old buck, I dragged him to a clearing, set up my phone for a timed selfie, and got this shot. After close inspection, it turned out that this 9-point was a buck I had seen on camera and in the field a couple of times during the last two years. This time though, he was coming home with me.
