I've hunted my Grandpa's farm every Michigan archery whitetail season since I was 18. It became my refuge- a break from the pressures of college and law school. Every trip was more than just a hunt; it was time spent with my grandparents, like sleeping on their couch, eating all the sweets and treats my Grandma had made that week, and having Grandpa drive down the road to "glass the deer" (though, in reality, he was just checking in on me in the tree stand).
Since getting married a few years ago, my husband and I now live over an hour from the farm. But that hasn't stopped me from calling my grandparents up to ask if I can borrow the living room couch for a night. As if I really had to ask...
There’s a corner of a field my Grandpa has let me plant a food plot in year after year. It's tucked at the edge of a wooded section and bordered by a row of pine trees on one side. This spot, unimaginatively called "The Pines," has become one of my go-to places. I’ve taken several deer from the stand overlooking that plot, and it's one of those spots that always gives me hope- I always have faith that a mature deer will eventually wander in for a meal at its favorite spot: the POW (Peas, Oats, & Wheat) Café.
I have another stand tucked along the tree line, just around the corner from my food plot, positioned along a well-worn deer trail. It's a prime spot, where deer regularly pass between surrounding fields and wooded pockets. You have to stay on high alert here, as the deer are often moving fast, crossing the short-cropped or recently harvested fields with purpose. It’s one of those places where you have to be ready in an instant. Sticking with the lack of originality, this stand is called "The Rock Pile" because there are some rocks nearby. Ha!
Enough with the background—let’s get to the good stuff.
In October 2024, my husband and I both decided to really focus on our archery hunts. I’d be heading to the farm on weekends, while he stayed at home for his local hunts. He was also after something special- his first compound bow harvest. After spending the last few seasons waiting for the perfect shot and the right deer, he was ready. He’d been fine-tuning his bow over the past few years, and now it was time to put all that work to the test...
One evening, we were both in our respective tree stands, nearly two hours apart, when I received a text that had me grinning from ear to ear (probably a bigger smile than him!).
My husband had just harvested his first compound bow deer- a perfectly placed shot on a nice 8-point, over two hours away from where I was sitting.
I was beyond excited for him and wanted to be with him to celebrate, track, take pictures, and help process that deer. I told him I’d get down right away and head home. But with at least an hour of shooting light left, my husband, being the gentleman he is, urged me to stay in my stand because you never know what might show up at the Rock Pile stand. So, with that, I stayed put, torn between my excitement for him and the hope that something might still come through for me.
As I sat in the stand, barely paying attention to my surroundings because I was too busy texting my husband for updates, I took a moment to reflect on what my standards would be for the rest of the evening. Part of me wanted to be home as soon as possible, but would I really pass on anything? Honestly, no. I was eager to add more meat to the freezer, and a mature 3.5-year-old would be foolish to turn down. Still, I felt conflicted. My mind wandered back to some trail camera photos from earlier in the season, where I’d captured images of mature deer. One in particular stood out- a big-bodied deer with three antlers, a truly unique and memorable deer. I had nicknamed him "And One" (like your extra free throw on a made shot).
No sooner had I thought about And One, refocused on my surroundings, and raised my binoculars to scan the fields, than I heard a grunt behind me. In that instant, it didn’t matter what the deer looked like- buck fever hits me hard (seriously, if you’re not excited in a moment like that, what are you even doing out there?!).
I spotted a young buck emerging from the woods about 100 yards away- exciting, but not the target for tonight. Then, about 20 yards behind him, another deer appeared. This one looked bigger, but I couldn’t make out his antlers clearly. I tried to bring him into focus with my binoculars, but the shakes of buck fever had me struggling to make sense of what I was seeing on top of his head.
I waited patiently as the buck took a few more steps out of the tree line, hoping for a clearer view. Then, he turned his head toward me—and there it was: a third antler. I silently apologized to my husband, then immediately shifted into hunting mode, knowing I needed to be ready in case the deer moved closer. To be as prepared as possible, I had already mentally ranged my surroundings. I knew that "that tree" was 24 yards away, "that rock" was 29 yards, and "that dirt mound" was 35 yards.
A bit of luck was on my side. Within two minutes, the buck, now clearly the unique And One, stepped up to the dirt mound at 35 yards. I made a perfect double-lung shot, and he dropped within seconds.
The emotions that come with taking an animal’s life are complex and varied, but for me, there’s always a deep sense of respect. I feel gratitude for that animal’s life, and yes, a touch of sadness that I ended it. But I also recognize my role in wildlife conservation. I’m proud to help manage the overpopulated deer herd, provide wildlife with a year-round food source through food plots, and contribute to conservation efforts through the purchase of tags, gear, and supplies- all of which have an excise tax which goes right back into conservation. I also take pride in sourcing my own protein, knowing that the life I harvested was one well-lived- spending the past three or four years thriving and roaming the farm.
I didn’t make it home in time to help my husband with his harvest, as I spent a very late night handling my own. But at sunrise the next morning, before either of us had to head to work, we both put our camouflage back on and, with my phone propped up in a boot, took a photo side by side in the backyard, proudly showing off our bucks from the same night.
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