Photos by courtesy of Chuck Nease
Looking back over the last 50 years of chasing whitetails, I can see the successful hunts hanging on the wall and in photos. But my brain will not let me erase the memories of the trophies lost because of bad decisions, lack of preparation, and poor execution.
Growing up in southern West Virginia in the 1950s and early ‘60s, there were very few whitetail sightings in our hunting area. We spent our time fishing and hunting small game while dreaming of a deer hunt someday. That dream came true at age 15 when a friend invited me to hunt Peters Mountain on the Virginia border. I borrowed some orange clothing and a rifle, knowing I was ready. With minimal preparation and unlimited excitement, I headed up the mountain looking for a good observation point to scan the area.
Within minutes, I heard leaves rustling behind me that stopped in the laurel thicket to my right. There were four to six deer moving in and out of the foliage, and I caught a glimpse of antlers. I strained to get a good image through the peep sight on the 03A3 bolt action. With buck-only season, I did not want to make a mistake and shoot a doe. Finally, the buck’s body appeared—and just as quickly, he was streaking down the ridge with his ladies on his tail. My vision of the trophy was quickly dashed by the gunshot I heard below. With no more action, I headed down the mountain for lunch. Right beside our truck was a hunter with monster 14-point I should have taken. After congratulating the hunter, I realized I had missed a great opportunity because I was not familiar with my equipment, hunting area, or habits of whitetails.
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On a positive note, I was totally hooked on deer hunting and excited about learning more before my next hunt. In the ‘60s, information about hunting and equipment was limited to Outdoor Life magazine and sharing stories with other hunters. The next year, the West Virginia Department of Natural Resources (WVDNR) had a lottery for the first firearm doe permits issued in a few counties. I received a tag for the first week at Sherwood Lake in Greenbrier County. Dad and two friends would take me on the first Saturday of the season. I had the opportunity to use a 12 ga Browning with slugs or a single shot .30-30. I liked the idea of five quick shots compared to one.
It was 10 degrees and snowing hard when I left our station wagon on the gravel road. I walked a logging trail until I saw several fresh deer tracks in the snow heading into the dark timber. I took a stand by an old fallen tree to break the wind. After four hours, I was frozen and ready to follow my tracks back to the road. But before I could move, I saw brown forms running through the snow 100 yards away. A nice buck was in the lead, and I fired twice—only to see the dirt fly up five feet in front of his hoofs. At the shot, the does ran toward me and turned broadside at 40 yards. I fired two shots at the biggest doe as they continued to run. When I finally settled down, I walked to where the deer was last seen and found some blood droplets in the snow. I quickly put two more shells in the gun and followed the tracks to where she was piled up in the frozen creek bed. My dad watched the whole episode and helped me field dress the deer and drag her out.
After we put the doe on the luggage rack, an older hunter came by and offered me a Centennial Model 94 Winchester for my deer. That lasting memory with Dad and my first deer was worth more than any gun I would ever own. It was a success, but I learned to never borrow a gun I have not sighted in—and one good shot is worth more than five bad ones.
That next Christmas was awesome. I received a Marlin 37 level-action .35 caliber and blaze orange coveralls with cap and boots. My next hunt would surely bring a big buck. There wasn’t much time to hunt during my high school senior year with varsity football and wrestling, which led to a full scholarship at Marshall University doing what I loved to do. My sophomore year, I got a break and could hunt on Thanksgiving Day. A good teammate drew me a map to hunt some public land in Mason County, WV, located against the Ohio River. He knew it had some nice bucks and not many hunters on that property.
It was breaking daylight when I parked my car and headed to the thickets bordering the river. I found a small clearing with a few shooting lanes and settled in against a big pine tree. After two hours with no action, I dozed off and was alerted by yelling and shots coming from my left. When my eyes opened, there was a nice buck in the clearing looking back at the noise. Like a dream, the crosshairs were on the vitals and the rifle fired. A few leaps and I heard him crash—along with voices asking if I got him. A farmer with two sons congratulated me and noted I was on private land. After apologies and stern conversation, I was allowed to load my first buck and head back to school. Proudly hanging and processing my buck behind the apartment complex was a reality check on how some people felt about hunting.
Fast forward 10 years and I had learned a bunch from previous hunts and began to enjoy some seasonal success with bow and rifle hunting. Bowhunting—watching deer and waiting for a good shot—quickly increased my rifle and muzzleloading success. Having the ability to hunt and observe deer over a three-month period was a game changer verses two weeks of firearm season. With the introduction of liberal big game tags, and magazines with exciting deer adventures and hunting tactics, the orange army and camo bowhunters were growing in numbers. I joined a local archery club, began shooting my bow year-round, and learned of new and better hunting areas in our tri-state area bordering Ohio and Kentucky.
I soon realized I would now have the chance of killing a trophy buck in my area, and I could start to expand my hunting to new locations and increase my odds. That brought back the memory of an old-timer telling me: “If you do what you have always done, you will get what you always got.” It was a real adventure finding new places to hunt in Ohio and Kentucky just an hour away. Getting permission was easy in the ‘80s and ‘90s, especially for bowhunting. Tom Nixon was a great hunting buddy who enjoyed scouting and sharing hunting trips. We both were trying to break that 150-inch mark, so trophy hunting was solo and extremely competitive.
While driving to a job in Kentucky, I saw an exceptional buck on a 300-foot-high wall bordering the Kentucky Power property. I located the landowner and got permission to hunt—but could not bring anyone else. The first year I saw the buck twice but ended up taking a doe at the end of the season. The nine-point had a perfect bedding area in a dense thicket with his back to the highwall and his nose in the thermals coming up both sides of the ridge.
I knew my only chance to take him was during the rut or when he was checking scrapes on his rub line during daylight hours. I set my climbing stand on a flat above and downwind of the scrapes. After two weeks of just seeing does and smaller bucks, I decided to leave until Kentucky gun season started at the beginning of the rut. While bowhunting with Tom at home and putting meat in the freezer, we continued to discuss our trophy hunting tactics in our private areas. Finally, the morning of the gun season arrived with fog, wind, and rain in the forecast. When I pulled into my parking place, I noticed a familiar truck—it was Tom. He had found the property I was hunting and gained permission without letting me know. I was visibly upset, and without a word headed up the ridge to my stand.
After I settled in, it started to rain harder, and I could see Tom 100 yards away on the same flat. Thirty minutes later, three does, a spike, and a six-point headed his way. He took the shot, field dressed the six-point, and headed off the ridge. I sat all day in the rain, watching several more deer and younger bucks cruise by—wondering why he would do this to me. I hunted the whole week and finally killed the big nine-point on the last day as he followed a doe 40 yards below my stand. I was elated and proud to have finally killed a trophy whitetail—but knew I had lost a good friend.
After becoming a professional firefighter, I was able to put more time into my passion for archery and whitetail hunting. I soon acquired 40 acres and a house in the country and began building a great area for wildlife and my family. With the new property and hunting all three states, I was in whitetail heaven. I could enjoy my trophy pursuits and fill the freezer by hunting with my family and friends. With the deer population increasing every year and the availability of more property and extra tags, success became the norm. Although tagging a 4- to 5-year-old trophy buck was still the ultimate challenge.
Sharing a successful meat hunt with fellow veteran Greg Thomas (right) makes a lasting memory. The treasured memories that friendship is built upon.
With more hunting came a lot more learning—and missed opportunities. A big buck in Ohio walked across my bow when I let it down too soon before dark. On my property, two nice 150ish bucks chased a doe under my stand when I was late pulling my bow up. They both stopped at 20 yards and watched my bow slowly ascending before they walked off.
I had the opportunity to hunt Illinois where a 180+ buck had been spotted in summer. The first morning I saw him walk into a thicket and wood lot that had been hit with a tornado the year before. Scouting the next day, I found a trail to the middle, got in my climbing stand, and within minutes there were six to eight nice bucks chasing does in every direction. I knew it was just a matter of time before I would get the shot at that monster buck. For two more days, the rut and deer action were amazing. I saw the mega buck each day with no clear shot.
The last day, I had a big six-point following a doe 20 yards from my stand. With three hours left, I let him walk. As he turned and walked straight away, I said, “Dang, that is 140-plus six-point.” As the sun was setting on the final day before gun season, I regretted letting him walk. But to experience the excitement of hunting a magnificent buck was an unbelievable adventure. The next week, his in-law killed the six-point that scored 146, and the neighbor killed the big buck scoring 193. In hindsight, I should have taken the six-point, but knowing the possibility of having a chance at a world-class whitetail was too strong. Those choices would determine the outcome of many hunts to come.
Helping my hunting buddy, Mike Martin (right), take a trophy whitetail is a measure of success. Sharing these special experiences with friends is priceless.
Over the next 30 years, I have been lucky to have experienced so many great days in the woods hunting whitetails with bow, gun, and muzzleloader. Although I still like to hunt for a particular buck on occasion, I really enjoy just hunting for fun and filling freezer with the friendships I have developed over the years. Tom and I finally got back together again after apologies and admitting friendship is much more important than any buck. I cannot list all the mistakes I have made over the years, but each one was a lesson that brought future success.
It is true that new hunting methods and better equipment can give you an advantage, but nothing can beat experience, persistence, and luck. Choose your hunting friends with care, because they will ultimately affect the pleasure you get from trips in the field. If you get as much joy from your friend’s success as your own, that is the right person to share your time with. Trophy hunting can be extremely hard and rewarding, but do not let that keep you from enjoying hunting with friends and family.
It is amazing—with all the latest technology, information, and game cameras—that mature bucks can evade our best efforts on a daily basis. There is no doubt that the more we learn about Odocoileus virginianus, the more they learn about us. That is why whitetail deer hunting is the most popular game animal in the U.S. And with the amount of participation and money invested, it always will be.
Looking back over the last 50 years of hunting—even with all the mistakes—I have been blessed with a lot of success. The big secret is: just get out there and hunt. Try new areas and methods. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes and learn from every trip in the field and woods. That next mistake you make might just be the key to your buck of a lifetime.
Stay safe and have a successful hunting season.
- June 3, 2026
