The month was December. The year was 2017. Pennsylvania remains one of very few states that still prohibits Sunday hunting for deer.

It is not often that a hunter has the chance of taking a “buck of a lifetime” which is why the term was coined. I had been hunting at one of my favorite “secret spots” on Thursday, Friday and Saturday and had seen several good bucks. But it was late Saturday afternoon when a giant 8-pointer passed through a small opening and made me realize that this was a buck I really wanted to target. The problem was that I couldn’t return to hunt the next day because it was Sunday, and in Pennsylvania there was no deer hunting on Sunday.

It was truly a gut-wrenching dilemma. I obviously wanted to follow all the game laws, but this was truly a special buck, and I was sure he was hanging out in the area and very well might present a shot the next day — Sunday! The place I was hunting was remote, and I was certain no wardens would ever venture there. I wrestled with my decision, but in the end I decided to hunt for the buck the next morning, regardless of Pennsylvania’s ban on Sunday hunting.

I arrived at my hunting spot well before daylight. Only a slight sliver of moon hung low in the Eastern sky, and under the stars overhead I went straight to my work. I had decided to “double down.” Not only was I hunting on Sunday, but I had also planned to sweeten up the area by scattering some shelled corn, not so much to attract any deer, but to hold them for a steady standing shot if they came across the enticement. I returned to my blind and settled in for what might be an all day wait for “Mr. Big.”

An hour passed until the skies began to brighten behind me to the east, revealing the landscape I would be watching in hopes of having some success today. I was in a brushy blind in the center of an old pasture, with visibility for several hundred yards in all direction. Throughout the pasture were old oak trees which had dropped their annual crop of acorns that the deer had been feeding on, along with the lush grass. Beyond the pasture, there were more oak trees and tall brush that prevented seeing any approaching deer.

It was right at daybreak that the first deer arrived. There was a pair of does, each with two fawns, and then a third doe appeared. Thirty minutes later, two more yearlings and a nice 6-point buck entered the pasture. They trotted out to join the other deer, which had already found the shelled corn and were busy enjoying this newly discovered food.

Throughout the morning the clouds had thickened to an overcast layer that kept the temperature from rising to above freezing and the calm wind provided great conditions for the deer to be up and moving all day long. By 4:00 p.m., and with the sun soon to begin settling in the western sky, I had counted more than 25 does and yearlings, along with 7 bucks ranging from a broken-antlered spike to a pair of symmetrical 8-pointers.

Then, in the last remaining light, the six deer which were still in the field — which included 2 mature bucks — all raised their heads simultaneously and looked to the north. The two mature bucks quickly ran from the field and away from the incoming deer. Suddenly, there he stood — the huge wide and heavy racked 8 pointer I had been waiting patiently for all day, and for the first time, I observed a 9-inch drop tine extending down on his left antler!

The four remaining deer in front of me were glued to watching him slowly enter the field as I shouldered by rifle and centered the crosshairs of the scope behind his front leg. Flame flew from the end of the barrel in the dwindling light as the buck took one leap and then crumbled to the ground.

I eagerly raced to where he lay — only to discover that he had landed dead center in the middle of a huge clump of cactus!

Cactus? Yes, you read that correctly. You see, I was actually in San Saba county, Texas when this all happened! All throughout this hunt I had daydreamed about “what if” I had been in Pennsylvania and wanted to hunt this big buck. But, fortunately for me, I was in the Texas hill country, in a state where baiting and Sunday hunting have been legal forever. Thank you Texas!