THE LONG SHOT

It was the summer of 1992 and I was again looking forward to my fall whitetail deer hunt with Jim Roche and Magnum Guide Service. I had begun hunting with Jim in 1990, and in 1991 I had joined him at his home in Ft. McKavett, Texas for a follow-up hunt. At the time Jim was wildlife manager for Jimmy Powell Ranches where he dealt mainly with annual lease hunters, and his guiding business was just getting started.

The previous fall Jim had invited me to stay with him at his home on the Jimmy Powell Ranch. Jim was not married at the time so it was just me and him hunting and fooling around together for a week. There were plenty of deer on the ranch, and I shot two respectable bucks. I thought I knew a lot about hunting whitetails, but after a week with Jim I realized that I had a lot to learn. I planned my hunt later in the season after Jim was pretty much through with his annual lease management duties and we had plenty of time to hunt together. During the middle of the day I would ride with Jim as he checked on the lease hunters.

Jim would normally put me on a stand for the early morning hunt and then we would ride around over the ranch during the middle of the day. In the afternoon I would usually go back to a stand. In addition to just showing me the deer, Jim was teaching me things that I had never even thought about. He was educating me about the deer’s habits as well as how to age a deer on the hoof. He was telling me that we were after the older deer, five, six years or older. Hunting in north Georgia and north Louisiana, where any legal buck was considered a shooter, I had a lot of bad habits to break. I enjoyed seeing all the deer as well as spending one-on-one time with Jim. I learned more about whitetail deer hunting in a week with Jim than I had learned my entire life up until then.

In early December of 1992, I was again back at Jim’s home in Ft. McKavett. We had a great steak dinner the evening that I arrived and I was looking forward to begin hunting the next morning. I sat on a stand for awhile the next morning and Jim picked me up about nine thirty. Deer activity had been slow that morning, and while I saw several nice bucks, they were all young deer and I was learning my lessons well so I did not shoot. We saw a couple of respectable deer later in the morning as we rode over the ranch including a very nice ten point.

As we rode along a ranch road near noon, a huge ten point buck broke from the cover and ran along beside the truck at about sixty yards away. Jim instantly yelled “Shoot that buck”! I scrambled to get my rifle out the passenger side window as Jim braked the truck to a halt. After I regained my balance I found the large deer in my scope and started to squeeze the trigger. But, just that quickly, the buck broke again and disappeared into the brush. That was a close call, but no deer.

The following morning was quiet again, but that afternoon I returned to another stand and shot a respectable eight point buck. The deer was five years old but did not have as good a rack as I first thought. I had gotten in too big a hurry, and had made a mistake, just the lesson that Jim was trying to instill in me. Oh well, I had learned half of the lesson.

For the next two days, a front was approaching the area and the winds picked up considerably from the southeast. As usually happens in that part of the country, the strong wind caused the deer to bed down. Movement during early morning and late afternoon was next to nothing. Hunting on a stand was futile. We would occasionally jump a deer during mid-day when we were riding around and I was able to shoot a mature doe.

I was down to my last full day of hunting and the wind was still howling. After another fruitless morning on a stand, we decided that if I was going to get another buck, we would have to make something happen. It was late morning when we drove the truck to the top of a hill and parked. We decided that we would slowly walk through the brush and see if we could jump a shooter buck. The landscape was filled with low growing brush and small open areas of tall sage grass. We left the truck and started walking into the wind.

We jumped a couple of does and watched as they escaped into the stiff wind. We had gone close to a half mile when Jim suddenly whispered “there’s a buck”. I immediately froze but could not spot the deer. Jim took a step to his right and got behind me. He said, “Raise your binoculars slowly”. I did as he said but I still did not see the deer. “Higher”, he said, “higher”. I felt like I was looking ten feet into the air, but suddenly there he was. I had not expected the deer to be so far away, and he was standing in a small clearing atop an adjacent hill.

I looked the deer over carefully and saw that he was a nice eight point, definitely a shooter this late into the hunt. I asked Jim how far away he was and Jim said “At least four hundred yards”. My longest shot at a deer up to that time had been no longer than one hundred and fifty yards. The deer had already spotted us, but because we were downwind of him he didn’t know what we were. There was no chance to get any closer. Jim said “Go ahead and shoot. You’re not going to hit him anyway”. I looked around for a rest, but there was not one where I could still see the deer, so I shouldered my rifle for an off-hand shot. “Wait! Wait! At least sit down before you shoot”, Jim said. We were standing in a very small open area so I sat down where we were. To my surprise, I could still see the deer so I propped my elbows on both knees. Once again, I asked Jim how far the deer was, and he repeated, “At least four hundred yards”.

I was shooting a Browning A-Bolt in 30-06 caliber with 150 grain Remington Core-Lokt ammunition. The wind was howling left to right at close to thirty miles an hour. I settled the crosshairs of my Burris 3X-9X scope behind the deer’s front leg, then raised the crosshairs to the top of the deer’s back and one foot to the left, and squeezed the trigger. I heard Jim say, “You hit that son-of-a _itch!” I casually looked up and said, “I thought that was what you wanted me to do.” The deer had disappeared from sight but Jim was adamant that I had hit it. We walked to where the deer had been standing and began to look. Within a few minutes Jim came dragging the buck out of the brush. I had shot the deer through the center of its heart. After we admired the deer, Jim said, “I still don’t believe that shot. I’m going to measure the distance.” I stayed with the deer as Jim returned to the spot of my shot and measured the distance. When he walked back up, he said “Four hundred and four yards”.

Jim’s accurate estimation of a four hundred yard shot, my knowledge of my rifle’s capabilities and my bullet’s ballistics, and the grace of God all combined to allow me to pull off the most amazing shot of my life up to that point. Jim and I still laugh about that day as we continue to re-live our hunting adventures together. They were special then and they remain special today.

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