Pursuing really big deer takes patience and luck during the rut, plus a persistent conviction that sooner or later that special buck will show up, that is, if he exists where you hunt.

Story and photography by Bob Zaiglin

The loud, distinct crack of a rifle temporarily shattered the tranquil South Texas morning as a buck fawn, preoccupied with a Texas tortoise, which it had never seen before, suddenly realized its dam was nowhere in sight.  Immediately, the youngster began to search for its mother, but without success, it began to bleat. Without an audible response, the stressed youngster continued its frantic search through the maze of thorn scrub, alone for the first time in its life, searching for its mom.

Walking erratically, it accidentally came upon its mother lying motionless on the ground and rapidly dashed to her, instinctively ramming its nose into the doe’s udder to quench its thirst, but the doe remained stolid.  Suddenly, sounds alien to the fawn were heard and two men in camouflage clothing appeared.

Startled, the fawn bounded off a short distance and stood behind a small leaf sumac bush and watched as two humans carried its life support system, its mother, away.  This initial human interaction, one of many more to come in the future, intensified the inherent fear this deer would have for its number one predator—man.

One year later, the yearling experienced several physiological changes with the development of its first set of antlers, and above all, its interest in participating in the rut.

Over the long, hot, dry summer, the youngster formed a bond with two amicable older bucks.  The companionship insulated the youngster from the many dangers in the wild.  It spent so much time with its older cohorts that it mimicked many of their mannerisms, but the most important thing the youngster learned from its older cohorts was how to evade humans.

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