Pennsylvania Game News - December 2022 - 17

For the first time in hours, I knew
where he was going and felt confident we
would get him.
I scrambled down the slope and back
up, somehow without falling, to stand
opposite my friend, 30 yards across the
glacially-cut gap. No words were necessary.
He understood he had to do the same
or quit. Our eyes met.
" I can do it, " he said.
He made it, too, though I didn't breathe
the whole time. Then we were on our
way again.
The trail was easy to see and I expected
we would jump the buck at any moment.
Five hundred yards later, that feeling
waned. We came to another deer bed,
now more than a mile into the chase, with
Junior feeling every inch of it.
The thought of losing a deer is terrible.
But given our situation, I called Jonnie,
explained what was going on and asked
what he thought we should do. He suggested
returning to the cabin until we
could get more help and regroup. Junior
was looking at me as I slid the phone back
into my pocket.
" One more bed, " he said. " Track him
to one more bed for me and if we don't
get him, I'll quit. "
That decided it. We walked inside the
deer's tracks, moving slower and quieter,
as I said a silent prayer. Heading upslope,
we stopped, perhaps 100 yards from one
of the most beautiful spots in Penn's
Woods, a place I call the cathedral.
The toes of three mountains come
together there in a deep abyss. Very few
people ever see it because it's a challenge
to reach. Standing on the bottom of the
cathedral, the slopes resemble a church
pipe organ, hence its name.
Junior had never been there, so I waited
for him to catch up, telling him that if
nothing else he was getting to take in a
DECEMBER 2022
wonderful scene. But he looked fatigued
and worn. Clearly, the big guy didn't have
much left.
We climbed and saw the tracks go
down, do a fishhook and come back.
Nothing in my 39 years of deer hunting
prepared me for what happened next. Just
to my right, a massive rack of antlers rose
and I found myself staring right into the
soul of the giant buck.
Likely as exhausted as we were, he was
lying flat, prepared to watch me walk on
past. Instead, in what seemed like slow
motion, I yelled for Junior, 30 yards to
my rear. I've never seen a man that big
move that fast. He closed the gap quickly
and raised his rifle to his shoulder, then
dropped it back down.
The snap cap covers on his scope were
still closed.
He opened them as the buck gathered
his legs from under him, preparing to take
off once again. With not half a second to
spare, the rifle roared and the majestic
buck finally settled into the snow.
The next few minutes are easier written
about than imagined. Junior's first big hug
took me off my feet. Hoots and hollers
followed as two grown men did a victory
dance, shed a few tears and said a prayer
for Junior's grandfather, the founder of
our camp.
Getting the buck back to camp was a
story itself. We were a mile and a half back
in the woods, with no roads anywhere.
Suffice it to say, it was several more hours
before we got out.
But the journey led to the best part of
this story.
Jonnie was waiting for us as we made
it back. Yes, we had the biggest buck in
camp history with us, but it was the bear
hug between a father and son finally
reconnected that stands out as a moment
nothing short of spiritual.
17
Pennsylvania Game News - December 2022

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