The 2024 Black Hills rifle opener began like any great hunt—fueled by excitement, hope, and a touch of luck, though we didn’t manage to bring home any whitetail that first day. Instead, we focused on scouting the terrain for future hunts. With breathtaking vistas and endless timber, the Black Hills holds plenty of promise for hunters who enjoy the challenge of the chase. Our first trip was productive in many ways; we even spotted a magnificent whitetail buck, but shooting hours had ended, leaving us to dream about encountering him again.
Two days later, with Erik tied up at work, I geared up for a solo hunt. I was up before dawn, rolling out of bed at 4 a.m., and soon I was on my way to the spot we had scouted on opening day. I could still picture that trophy buck, and I had a good feeling that he might still be roaming somewhere out there.
The morning unfolded like a scene from every hunter’s dream. Deer were everywhere. I climbed to a high vantage point and started glassing, taking in the Black Hills’ scenery while watching deer filter through the terrain below me. In the distance, about 700 meters out, I spotted a group of bucks moving along a thick stand of timber. Among them was the big guy, the one we’d seen on the opener. My heart jumped, but at that distance and with all that cover, a clean shot just wasn’t possible. I decided to stick with patience as my strategy and kept glassing. And to add to the thrill, I heard elk bugling nearby and even caught sight of a nice bull—it was one of those mornings when being out there was its own reward.
As the morning wore on, activity slowed, so I shifted my plan. I moved toward the heavy timber, following my OnX map to a clearing I thought might bring me some luck. Setting up on a hill overlooking the open space, I rattled intermittently, hoping to draw in any nearby bucks. After an hour of no signs, I decided to go deeper into the timber. That’s when I spotted something unusual.
A shape caught my eye—a figure, hidden in the shadows, motionless like a statue. I could’ve sworn it was a deer, but with its head obscured by a tree, I couldn’t be certain. My heart raced as I stared through my scope, then switched to my binoculars, hoping for any sign of movement. I watched for what felt like hours. Finally, he moved, and I knew I was looking at a buck.
I steadied myself, slowed my breathing, and placed the crosshairs on his vitals. My finger squeezed the trigger, and the shot echoed. The buck dropped instantly, then rolled and took off running. My heart sank as I watched him disappear into the trees, but I stayed calm, waiting thirty minutes before tracking him. I reached the spot where he’d fallen and found blood, so I started following the trail with a hopeful but wary heart.
Hours passed, and though I worked carefully, the blood trail ran cold. Despite my efforts, daylight started to fade, and I knew I’d have to return home empty-handed for the night. Reviewing the footage back home only deepened my disappointment—I could see I’d made a solid hit, so why hadn’t I found him? Restless and determined, I returned at first light.
Back at the spot I’d left off, I picked up the trail and scanned every inch of the ground. After what felt like a lifetime of searching, I finally spotted something between fallen trees: a patch of fur. My pulse quickened as I approached, and there he was, lying quietly in the morning light. Relief washed over me—I’d found him.
As I began field dressing, I saw that the shot had hit one lung, with him quartered toward me, which caused the bullet to clip part of his gut. For safety’s sake, I left behind the backstraps and tenderloins but was able to keep all four quarters and his head. Though I was disappointed to lose some of the meat, I knew I was lucky to have anything at all after nearly losing him.
After packing him up and loading him into my cooler on ice, I headed to the fire department, feeling a mix of pride, gratitude, and relief. This hunt was an emotional rollercoaster from start to finish, but it reminded me of why I love hunting: the thrill of the chase, the patience, the persistence, and the sheer respect for the wild. This Black Hills buck was truly hard-earned, and I’ll carry the memory with me, grateful for the lessons and the chance to harvest such a magnificent animal.
— Written by Tyler
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