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It was Friday, one week into Missouri's 2005 firearms season, and I had already let three mature bucks walk that would each score 120 inches or better since the season opened the previous Saturday. As I was thinking about walking out of the woods a little early that evening, when I spotted a deer coming off the hill to my right. It was a fairly nice buck, bigger than any I had seen so far, but still not what I was after. As the 125"-130" eight-pointer walked in front of me, he never even knew I was sitting on the ground a mere 20 yards away. I thought about taking this buck, but I reminded myself that I wanted a buck that would make it into the Missouri Big Bucks record book, so I let him walk. A little later, I kept thinking that maybe I had made a mistake. But a little voice reminded me that you can't kill a big one if you're tagged out on a little one. So after leaving the woods and walking back up to the car, I checked in with friend and fellow hunter, Matt McAnally, who's place I was hunting on that evening. He told me I was welcome back the next morning, and I took up the offer. If I saw that eight-pointer again, maybe he wouldn't be so lucky! Later that night, another good friend and landowner called and said that he wanted me to come over the next morning (Saturday), and hunt his place. I really didn't want to hunt there, because other guys had been all over the farm hunting. But he insisted that I come and at least try to shoot some does. So I figured what the heck, and said I'd be there. The second Satruday of gun season started out cold and clear with a heavy frost. I had started to go to where I had made a crude ground blind above a slough along the Big river. While making my way through the predawn darkness, I noticed that the wind was blowing in the wrong direction. I stood against a giant oak tree wondering where to go. With the wind blowing right down the hill to where the deer cross a fence, I knew that I couldn't stay where I was standing long, because every deer that headed out of the bottoms would smell me before I ever saw them. It was starting to get light when I heard shots in the distance, three to be exact. I knew where the gunshots had come from, and figured that if they were making noise that maybe I would go and sit in another spot in hopes that they would make some deer move my way. As I was heading to another spot, a funnel along a steep bluff, I heard two shots about a half-mile away in a big alfalfa field on the same farm I was hunting on. I got to the spot , cleared the ground and sat down against another big oak. As I sat and watched squirrels running around I could see the river and thought about how lucky I was to even be in the woods on such a beatiful morning. Little did I know that my luck was going to get even better, when returning from my morning daydream I saw antlers moving through a grown up field to my left about 100 yards away. I raised my Wincester 30-30 to my knee and waited to see what the buck was going to do. Then suddenly I realized that he was running right at me! When he was about 40 yards away I shot and missed, but he hit the brakes and turned to leave when my second shot hit him in the neck, knocking him down. Then he got back up and was heading down the hill, I shot again, hitting him and knocking him down for the second time. He thrashed about as I shot at him three more times, missing every time. Then to my amazement, he got up again, still trying to go down the hill, I ran up to him and shot him through the heart, putting him down for good. After I made sure he was dead, I sat down next to the buck and gave thanks to the Good Lord for allowing me to harvest such a great animal. Also thanks to Steve and Joe Hackney for letting me hunt on their farm, where this magnificent buck was taken. So, after field-dressing and tagging the buck, I noticed that I had not been the only one to get a shot at him that morning. The shots I heard earlier in the alfalfa field were from Joe's 30-06 rifle. He had broken the buck's right front leg just below the brisket, missing all the vitals, and the deer was evidently running from him when it ran up on me. So I went and found Joe and told him that I had shot the buck, and that he had only wounded it. He wanted to see where it was hit, and he looked and said he was glad I killed it because it appeared the deer would have made it to the river, and would've gotten away. We also talked about seeing this buck before, and not being able to score on him. Well, I finally did score, and it's filled with mixed emotions, for now I know this buck won't be around to hunt anymore, but I'm glad to have taken the largest buck of my life in 28 years of hunting, and did it on a good friends farm. I guess mostly I'm glad to have a healthy family, and gracious friends who don't know how much I value their friendship. God Bless! Rob Mathes Editors note: Rob's 12 pointer gross scored 152 3/8, netting 145 6/8, and also qualified for Missouri Big Bucks. Rob brought this buck by my cabin hours after he harvested it, and pictures don't reveal the true size of this deer. It['s truly a trophy buck. Well, I have to go, Rob is waiting on me to mount the 12 pointer, so he can have it on his wall. Congratulations Rob, Matt McAnally hunter profile-Keith Pinson | Whitetail Feeding Habits All Year Long | The Ridge Stand by Matt McAnally | Off & Running--J.P. Mahn | Elk Photos | Confidence Doe | Shed Hunters | Chad Goetten Buck | hello M.B.B. 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