The story of Tallboy began four years ago when I received a trail camera picture of a tall-racked young buck with more mass than you would expect from a 1.5-year-old deer. Normally, I would not bother saving pictures of a deer that age, but something about this one was different. I decided to keep an eye on him.
Over the next three years, his antlers showed impressive growth. He kept that high, distinct rack and added a little more character each season. He was a homebody too — rarely leaving the heart of our farm. Though we never saw him on the hoof, he was photogenic, showing up on our Black Gate cameras nearly every day.
Fast forward to the 2024 late-season muzzleloader hunt. I had already tagged my deer, but my daughter had not. We made the trip to the farm, and with the cold temperatures and abundant food, the conditions were perfect. We saw several shooter bucks in those first few sits, but on the third day — there he was. Tallboy.
The other deer in the field instantly reacted to his presence, stepping back as he entered. This was our moment. He stood broadside at 150 yards. The hammer was pulled, the muzzleloader settled, and then—boom. Smoke filled the air. As it cleared, there stood Tallboy, confused but unharmed. A clean miss.
We were crushed, but still hopeful. To our disbelief, he calmed down and began walking closer. In a rush, I scrambled to reload the muzzleloader, fumbling with the powder and bullet. He kept coming. At 90 yards, I grunted to stop him. My daughter steadied herself, took aim, and fired. Tallboy bolted, disappearing into the tree line. We searched for sign but found none.
Determined to be sure, we used a thermal drone to scan the property. Minutes later, we spotted a group of does — and a buck chasing them. It was Tallboy, alive and well, no sign of a wound.
As heartbreaking as it was, that is part of the chase. My daughter later harvested a mature buck from another property, and Tallboy lived to see another season.
When July came, we eagerly placed our Black Gate cameras again. Just four days later, there he was — bigger, heavier, and more majestic than ever. This was our target buck.
Early season passed quietly, but on October 31, we finally had our first encounter. He appeared from an unexpected direction and paused in the only opening along that trail. At 38 yards, my good friend released an arrow. It flew true — until it clipped a tiny branch, deflecting just off course. Tallboy jumped but did not spook. He walked away calmly, as if something had simply fallen from a tree.
Two days later, I was back in the same stand before daylight. As the woods came alive, I watched young bucks sparring nearby, snort-wheezing and posturing. Then the calm shattered — a burst of chaos that every hunter knows. A doe streaked through the trees, pursued by a heavy-bodied buck grunting with every stride. It was him.
He was running hard, 60–70 yards out in the thickest cover. My heart pounded. Then he cut off the doe, blocking her path up the hill where the young bucks waited. She bolted the other way — and my hopes dropped.
After nearly half an hour, I heard commotion again — this time heading toward my buddy Max, who had missed two days earlier. I texted him: “They’re headed your way.” I was thrilled for him. But Tallboy had other plans.
A faint crunch behind me made me freeze. He had doubled back — directly downwind. Every nerve in my body fired. I prayed he would not catch my scent or movement. My Ozonics unit hummed above me, doing its job perfectly. He had no clue a hunter was sitting just yards away.
He worked his way to a scrape at 38 yards, broadside but just over an old wire fence. I waited. Then he turned, walked toward the fence, and instead of using the gap we expected, he jumped effortlessly over it — heading straight at me.
At 15 yards, slightly quartering, he paused. Nose lifted, testing the air. I settled my pin, and released. The Megameat broadhead found its mark perfectly. He bolted
At 15 yards he stopped, nose lifted, testing the air, slightly quartering. I settled in and placed my shot perfectly sending a Megameat broadhead right to its intended mark. I instantly saw blood as he darted down the hill. He was in a full sprint and then stopped. He started to walk slowly which was starting to concern me until he quickly tipped over. It was over in an instant as he had expired within 20 seconds from the time the shot was taken right in front of my eyes!
I had to sit down as I was shaking uncontrollably…I called my wife as I always do thanking her emphatically for her support of this passion and making sure she knew how much it means to me….
Then the dreaded text…..I texted Max: “I am so sorry.” He instantly knew what that meant. Instantly he called — not disappointed, but overjoyed. He told me he was on his way to help celebrate the moment. We hugged, shed a tear and just relished in the moment just staring over every inch of the monarch.
Every deer commands my respect, but Tallboy was special. He represents years of strategy, sleepless nights, and patience — every move a chess match leading to that one perfect moment.
Though he will no longer appear on my trail cameras, his story will live on — a legend on our farm and a memory that will be etched in my mind forever!
The story of Tallboy will be told for generations.