Early Saturday morning, a quiet drizzle fell over the hills. Fog clung to the treetops and the whole valley felt still—like the bush was holding its breath. It was the kind of morning you dream about for a hunt.

We were glassing the back edge of the property when we saw him. A beautiful white fallow buck, 483 metres away, standing proud at the top of the misty mountain with six does around him. He looked like a ghost in the rain—majestic, calm, untouchable.

We stayed patient, watching as he slowly faded into the range. At that point, we thought that was it. Just one of those fleeting sightings that stays with you, never to be repeated.

The Unexpected Call-Back

But then—just minutes later—we heard another buck croaking down in the gully. We figured we’d throw out a couple of doe calls, see if anything would move. Maybe get a look at this new voice in the valley.

What happened next still gives us chills.

The same white buck from the mountain reappeared—only this time, he wasn’t posing. He was charging. Charging downthe mountain, broad chest out, like he was on a mission. He was closing the distance fast, much faster than we ever expected.

The Final Approach

He disappeared into the thick bush, and we lost sight of him for a moment. But deep down, we knew he was coming. Our hearts were pounding. Adrenaline surged. Every crunch in the underbrush made us hold our breath.

Then he appeared—first at 80 metres… then 50… then 15. Each step brought him closer, each moment tighter.

One last soft doe call froze him in his tracks.

That’s when Charlie took the shot. Aimed small. The arrow flew true. A clean hit. Silent woods. The rest—history.

 
The Aftermath

We got him back to the house, skinned and dressed him, and he’s now off to the taxidermist. Can’t wait to see him again once he’s mounted—it’ll be a proud reminder of one unforgettable hunt.

That morning had it all—mist, patience, adrenaline, and perfect timing. A story we’ll be telling for years.