Window To A Hunt

Posted On October 4, 2026

A Hunting Heritage Story

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September 27, 2026

Opening morning of New York State’s northern zone bow hunting season.

It all began with a father/son email:

“Hey, Opening morning of bow season here. This guy showed up for the 1st time on lower main field at 3:30 am. I think he’s an 8 if he has brow tines.”

“Hi Dad, That’s a good lookin buck! I’d be surprised if he wasn’t an 8. This is the time of year the new ones start popping up! My favorite time! “

“Opens up here on Thursday, but I won’t hunt until Friday. Unless something significant changes, I think I’m going after a big 9 point we named Droopy. He’s a regular between the powerline and tower. Going to try to intercept him in the tree stand above where we set up your ground blind in the Hidden Spot plot to the east of the bridge.”

“I get home from Chicago around midnight on Wednesday. Going to an Eagles game tomorrow! I am absolutely exhausted. Thank you for watching the dogs this weekend!” 

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My son RJ & I still hunt together when schedules allow, but he & his wife Carrie make their home in New York State’s southern tier now. My wife & I remain in New York’s northern zone on the family’s seventeen acre homestead, where RJ & I spent endless hours hunting together as an inseperable father/son team when RJ was a boy gowing up.

I no longer hunt as religiously as I once did. With each passing year the whitetail deer season gets longer, harvesting a big whitetail buck on my own become a more daunting endeavor, & those early fall mornings more quickly chill my greybeard legs to the bone.

As I sighted in my trusty crossbow in preparation for another father/son whitetail deer season, my mind conteplated this year’s strategy & schedule to ensure another hunting season filled with shared memories my older every year hunter’s heart could savor without burning out.

To that end, with crossbow once again successfully dialed in tight, on Tuesday evening, September 29th, the evening before his southern tier season opening, I called my son:

“Hey, just got my crossbow sighted in. I’m all set for the season. Wanted to touch base & firm up our schedule a bit. So, I’ve been thinkning things over. You’ve had a hectic work schedule lately and a long busy summer getting everything ready. It’s a long season and I don’t want to burn out. So I think that this year I’m going to hold off on coming down to hunt together until after our annual duck hunting weekend mid-October. The weather’s still warm & I have not yet felt the itch. Besides, I just think that sometimes a man deserves to have some time where all he has to be concerned about when he hunts is himself.”

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Friday, October 2, 2026

I received this email from RJ:

GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS….

It’s HUNT DAYYYYYYY!!

Hey Dad, 

“The rain is supposed to clear here around 2, so I’ll be signing off work early and heading to a tree stand! Shot my bow this morning and everything felt on. I think I’m going to the tree stand at right above where we put your blind on the Hidden Spot.” 

“We have a TON of bucks on the property this year.”

“I’m still sticking to my same target for now. I think he’s the oldest, hoping to at least get eyes on him tonight and confirm he’s the one to lock in on.” 

“Got my lawn mowed and all the wood I could fit brought into the garage last night, it’s probably somewhere just under a face cord. I haven’t made a ton of progress on splitting logs, but that will change this week now that I’m home.” 

“Will let you know how tonight goes!”

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Friday, October 2, 2026:

Waiting for news of a hunt with my son I am not on is like waiting for paint to dry. Late Friday afternoon I went for a walk. I knew RJ was likely in a his tree stand by then. As a bow hunter’s dad I was living vicariously at that point while I awaited his call.

At 6:38 pm whilst I was sitting in my reclining chair watching the news & taking in my evening tube feeding, my cell phone rang. As I flipped open my phone, I nodded & smiled. Sure enough, it was my son RJ. He was whispering:

“Dad, I just shot. I’m sure it was my target buck. That big nine point I’ve been scouting. Broadside, head down, feeding at 35 yards. I’m confident I made a good shot, an inch or two high & back maybe. I heard the arrow hit & pass through. I’m in the Redneck tower blind on the power line. The one bad thing about these tower blinds is you can’t gauge wind. There was more of a breeze than I had factored in & I think it pushed my arrow a little further back than I wanted. He disappeared downhill into the brush. I think I need to sit tight for a couple of hours now. I’ll get back to you.”

So, as my bow hunting son’s dad in no position to help, I simply sat back.

And waited.

And waited.

Then waited some more.

Finally, almost exactly three hours later, 9:38 p.m. My cell phone rang again. Sure enough, it was RJ.

“Got him. He ran downhill about 80 yards. He’s already stiff. I’m sure he died almost instantly. Carrie came to my rescue & helped track him. I’m sure he’s my target buck. Man! He’s a beast. Okay. Work to do now. I’ll email you some pics later & call you.”

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Saturday, October 3, 2:05a.m:

Hey Dad,

“The buck is in the cooler – I’m still winding down. Figured I’d send a recap and my pics for your morning read!

As you know, we’d been seeing this buck very regularly on a bunch of food plots. He’d been getting to the Tower on top of the hill after dark, and we’d seen him a couple times on camera on the powerline a bit earlier coming from the downhill side of the Redneck.

My approach was either Hidden Spot tree stand or Powerline tower blind. The wind was blowing the exact wrong direction for the tree stand, so into the tower I went!

As is normally the case on the first hunt, I was clunky getting in, took me forever to get my gear situated and around. I could NOT find my binoculars, but thankfully I remembered they were in my turkey hunting vest. I roll onto the blind, and I had left a window open when working on it earlier this month. It must’ve had 50 stink bugs in it! I managed to kill a bunch and shoo out some more, but what a nightmare. I FINALLY got settled at 5PM, sunset at 6:46. I didn’t see my first deer until 6:15 down below, and they pretty quickly started to pile onto the powerline.

Between 6:15 and 6:25, I went from 3 deer to 15+. Now, I’m expecting this buck to come from below, so that’s where I’m focusing my attention and had myself pre-set-up to shoot. So, naturally, he pops out above me at about 70 yards and starts pushing around a small buck and a bunch of does. I figured I had picked the wrong stand and he was going to move through to the Hidden Spot. Instead, he pushed the entire field of does down RIGHT in front of me. I quickly adjusted, got my window open, and he was at 50 yards and closing. I clanked the window and all of the deer heard it, I thought I was toast.

Luckily he was interested enough in the does, he put his head down and fed right into me at 35 yards. He was quartering toward at first, but then he opened right up to a slight quarter-away, still at 35 yards. I pulled back, got on him, and fired. I heard it hit, saw him react, and then saw the wound as he ran off.

One disadvantage to those blinds is they make it so hard to feel wind. The wind picked up way more than I thought, which is what pushed my arrow a couple inches right (back on the deer). 

I wasn’t sure if I was far back enough for him to take a while to expire, so I waited for the field to clear and then got down without spooking anything. Carrie grabbed subs and came to my rescue, and we waited 3 hours to track to be safe. 

We found the arrow within 2 minutes, and it was covered in bright red lung blood, so I knew he was down, and we could proceed with the track. It was a slow start in the clover, but once we got in the woods he plotted along pretty good. In total, he ran about 80 yards and likely died within seconds of being shot. 

He dressed out at 184 pounds, meaning he was over 200 pounds on the hoof! I’m pretty confident he’s 4.5, making him my oldest buck to date. I think he’ll score out between 115 and 120, making him my second biggest rack buck. 

Although the hunt was short, the hours of prep and manual labor and tracking his movements were not. I’ve never put in more time, more effort, or more thought into a pre-season, and it paid off here. I’m very proud of this deer, and very appreciate of the shared effort and support of our hunting crew (and now my lead tracker).”

“I’ll give you a call tomorrow. Gotta run him up to the butcher.”

And so the tradition continues.

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Until Our Trails Cross Again:

ADKO