The Story of Jumbo
In my life I’ll never shoot a buck like this again. A deer we had zero intel on literally, this giant 8 was working a ridge 175 yards below me. I caught movement and threw up the binos...mature buck with a great frame. Shooter in my book. I didn’t have time to analyze any details about this deer other than....I need to rattle. I believed he was alone, every buck I had seen that day was. I’d seen two mature bucks the day before but they were locked on does. No amount of calling pried them off of her. But this day felt different.
I reached down and did a 5-10 second rattling sequence, didn’t even take the antlers off the hook on the tree. Within seconds he was running up the ridge. I grabbed my bow, turned on the camera (I was self filming) and turned my attention toward the direction of where the buck was. Silence. Not a movement from that direction. For 10 minutes I didn’t move an inch. A small eight who had also responded to the rattling walked under my stand. Another small 4-point a few minutes later...then a doe. I’ve been burned by the patience of a mature buck in this situation before. We all have. You think he must have snuck off...but we were wrong. He was still there looking. Watching. Trying to find the two bucks that had just locked antlers on the top of this ridge. But I wasn’t falling for it this time. It was dead silent in the woods, and I would have heard him walk off.
Then I saw him. All it took was a curious doe feeding toward the smaller bucks and he couldn’t handle it. He closed from 100 yards, where he was buried in the briars, to 60. He worked a scrape, thrashed the licking branch and continued toward the small bucks. I came to full draw at 50, let down, moved the camera left and re-drew. At 39 yards I released the arrow. The same arrow I used to shoot a buck we called Deadpool...and the same arrow I used from this stand (Jagger) in 2019 on a buck we called DogBone. This was number three. Blood on impact. He ran 40 yards, stopped and tipped over. Incredible. To this point I knew he was a great buck, but I had no idea how big. I had no time to focus on that.
I texted Chris Keefer and let him know. Minutes later my phone died. I climbed down and found my arrow. And even though I could see him laying dead 70 yards away, I tracked him anyway. There’s always something to learn from a blood trail. As I approached him and finally laid my eyes on him I was floored. This wasn’t just a mature 8...this was a world class monarch 8 point. I was shocked...in the best way possible.
For the first time in almost two decades I hunted alone, documenting it from my own perspective. I’ve filmed hundreds of hunts...probably thousands for others as a cameraman or had a cameraman filming me, but this method of storytelling, it’s damn tough. But I was determined to make it happen and somehow I laid down an incredible story I’ll never forget. The magic of the November rut is real. Anything can happen. The woods was on fire like I’ve never seen it and this was day two of all-day tree stand sits...and it absolutely paid off. My son Gibson told me about an hour and a half before, “Today is the day dad”...well it sure was buddy.
When Chris got to the stand we celebrated, we shared a hug and I told him a story that nobody else knew yet but me. I described every detail of the hunt to a hunting buddy like I used to do before the world of outdoor television production became a part of my life over 20 years ago. It felt great. It was different, but liberating. I’ll probably always have a camera in my hand when I’m in the outdoors...it just wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t, but as storytelling styles change and the authenticity of it means more than ever before, this self-filmed hunt meant as much to me as almost anything I’ve ever done.
What a day. What a buck. What a memory. Thank you Lord for bow season. Thank you Lord for the fall.
Author: Jason Brown "Stovepipe"
