If there was a knife season on deer I'd be out there getting close to Mr. Big Buck. For 8 years I've been tracking him down. It isn't that he is majestic, or anything. Most hunters might be ashamed to have his head on their wall because of the scars and that ragged left ear where one of my arrows almost missed him.

He was old the first time I saw him. By now, the sole of a combat boot would probably taste better than he would. But for me there isn't a better trophy in the woods.

I've come close to nailing him a hundred times. I remember one hunt in a snow and ice storm. We took a lot of extra care in getting into our stands so we wouldn't make any noise. We climbed up the tree and got turned around. As we began pulling our bows up with the strings I glanced around into the icy wind. I knew the deer would be coming in close, real soon. "I can almost smell Mr. Big Buck," I whispered to my buddy.

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I saw him. There was a brush pile forty yards from our stand. Mr. Big Buck jumped up from behind it and trotted off. Just out of range he turned and gazed back at us, almost smiling. Our hands were still frozen on the string pulling our bows up to the platform. All we could do was grit our teeth and vow that his day was coming.

If deer were stupid there wouldn't be so many of them grow that big in Arkansas where every steady hand is out to get them. I'd been taking my limit every opening day on every kind of game since I was knee high to a grasshopper, yet this deer made me feel incredibly stupid.

The first time I really got after him I watched him and four other choice bucks come out on the same trail every day for two weeks. The boss let me off before time for them to arrive. I got set up on them for opening day. The wind was in my favor. I could just see that big rack hanging on my wall. Unfortunately, Mr. Big Buck took them on a different trail that afternoon, and they came out at a different time to boot. I didn't even get a glimpse of them till they were heading for home.

That old deer is pretty shrewd because he's learning from me at the same time I'm learning from him. Just when I think I have him figured out he does something entirely different than I'm expecting. Any deer worth his salt knows you're after nobody but him. Mr. Big Buck is more canny than all of them.

I park in a different place every time I head for the woods. I go there by a different route, every time. And yet, he knows the sound of my truck, and the fall of my foot on the forest trail. That is part of the challenge in nailing him.

Every minute I can steal, I spend in the woods where Mr. Big Buck runs. Month in, month out, I'm finding out more about him. Every year I track down what group he is moving with. Any time I'm moving through the woods, I look for his tracks to see what alternate trails they have picked out when they realize I'm scouting them. After 8 years I almost know in advance where he will run and where he will hide.

Hunting Mr. Big Buck has taught me to see the woods through the eyes of a whitetail deer. During the early part of bow season for example, when it is usually hot and dry, I look for waterholes. When I find one I back off without disturbing anything there, and set up. I climb up a tree and watch that hole. Before dark, most of the deer in that area will be coming through for a long, cool drink. All I have to do then is spot Mr. Big Buck and begin studying on how much smarter he is this year than last.

According to the time of year, the mast changes. In the early part of the fall, the deer in Arkansas will walk a country mile just to nibble on one white oak acorn. So, when that time of year arrives, I go into the woods hunting for white oaks too. When I find a stand of them I look to see if there is a herd of deer in that area. I'll know I've found a crop of good acorns if the ground is all tore up from the deer feeding.

After I find that special stand of oak I also know that those deer will always find one certain tree that they prefer to browse under more than the others. So I get myself back from that tree about 40 yards, and find the place with the best view.

By the time the acorns start going bad the farmers will have their beans cut. When the deer get through with the acorns they start feeding in the fields; and that is also about the time the winter wheat blades start coming up.

I've learned a lot from studying Mr. Big Buck, like, I've found out that deer don't like feeding on just one kind of food any more than we do. So, they will also be hunting out other foods too, such as honeysuckle. They will usually hit up on the honeysuckle on their way to the fields during the late afternoons. Then they get into the fields just as the shooting light is disappearing. So, I backtrack their trails to the fields to the honeysuckle, or whatever they were feeding on, on their way in. That way, if I can catch them on the way there then I will have boosted my chances of spotting Mr. Big Buck while the light is still plenty good.

In a bad deep snow, or if the ice has things frozen over, then the whitetail will feed up all during the day. That means wheat fields are virtually irresistible. I find that trail they reach the field by, and then I back out into the woods about 200 yards, and get about 40 yards off their trail with the wind in my favor.

I've learned to never forget that wind. The nose of any deer is a mean rascal. I have come to believe Mr. Big Buck can almost track a piss ant across a 40 acre field of blooming cotton from the way he's sniffed out my ambushes so often.

There ain't no other deer like him. And I hope he lives until I can't hunt no more. My dreams of nailing Mr. Big Buck have made me good enough to bag him some day, wise enough to let him go home free.