Jinx: Arrowing a Longtime Target Buck

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I first saw this buck in 2018. He was a goofy, busted-up 3x3 with very distinctive brow tines, and I figured him to be 2.5 years old. I honestly didn’t think much of him that first year. He looked like an average buck, but I saved a few pictures of him because I knew he would be easy to identify from his brow tines. Little did I know he would grow from that goofy six-point to a buck almost pushing Pope and Young the next season.

In 2019, I had one encounter with this buck. I saw him approaching from the east, and then he slowly made his way down a trail that would bring him to 15 yards in front of me. But then he stopped, as if he knew something wasn’t right, then shifted directions. He went behind my tree, got my wind, and bounded away to safety. I had no shot, but I am not positive I would have drawn my bow even if I’d had an opportunity because his unexpected growth had me hoping he would make it another year. 

In 2020, he was now a nice 5x5, and I was trying hard to get a shot. I had lots of photos of him, but he appeared to be making a habit out of showing up in daylight every time I couldn’t hunt due to work or other circumstances.

I played cat and mouse with this buck all fall. I decided to hunt him with my bow, and Wisconsin allows hunters to bowhunt during the rifle season, so long as you wear blaze-orange. Then, on the last night of the rifle season, I got my shot.

The buck came past me and paused. I drew back and let my arrow fly. I felt pretty good about my shot as I watched the buck take off through the brush.

I climbed out of my stand and recovered my arrow. That’s when my good feelings went south fast!

I had almost no penetration — my arrow was busted, and only about four inches of it was missing. After tracking the buck that night and the next morning, I ran out of blood sign. No ethical hunter ever wants to lose an animal, and I was heartbroken. The thought of his trying to survive a Northern Wisconsin winter made me feel even worse.

In an attempt to ease my heartache, I searched the woods all that winter and into the spring. Every wolf kill I found had me silently praying it wasn’t the buck.

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That summer, I ran more cameras than ever. It paid off, as I eventually got a picture of the buck roughly a mile from where I had shot him. He was alive and had grown to become a 6x5 with a small sticker on one side!

I was getting daylight pictures and had a good stand set up. Now I just needed the right wind.

On September 27, I got word that my good friend, Zach Polaske, had passed away. I worked all day marking timber with a very heavy heart. Zach had been battling osteosarcoma for over a year. I had just hugged him goodbye in elk camp a few weeks prior and had no clue that his diligent battle with his disease would take a turn for the worse so quickly.

The area I was hunting was public, and I didn’t want to tip off other hunters with my truck, so I had my buddy, Kenny Hoge, drop me off at my stand that evening. The wind was iffy that night, but I didn’t care — I just wanted to sit in a tree to clear my head.

I climbed the tree and settled in, thinking about nothing other than Zach. Suddenly, I looked up to see a giant rack coming my direction. I drew but had no shot. I was still at full draw as the buck slowly made his way around a tree. I settled my pin and squeezed the trigger. What happened next blew me away…

I missed. Not by a little. But by almost eight feet! I swear I could hear Zach’s voice hissing, “You joner, I can’t believe you missed!”  After going home and shooting my bow, it was clear that my bow was not the culprit. My only explanation is I’m left-eye dominant, but I shoot my bow right-handed. After a summer of shooting trap left-handed, I think I kept both eyes open and my left eye focused on my pins. It was the only “excuse” for my mishap that made sense. 

Upon telling some friends what happened, they named the buck, “Jinx.” I’m not much for naming bucks or calling them “my buck,” until I’ve put my tag on them. Jinx liked to travel, and with so much public land in the area, I knew I wasn’t the only hunter who knew about this buck. It was just a matter of time before Jinx slipped up and was pulled into the back of someone else’s truck.

I had three more encounters with him that season. The first time, Jinx heard me draw from inside my ground blind and quickly did an about-face. Another evening, he was 80 yards from me with a doe. He stood tall at 80 yards and showed off his rack as the sun set — but that shot was just too far for me to even consider taking. I certainly didn’t want to wound him again. My third encounter occurred during the rifle season, and I was holding my bow. Jinx was 25 yards away and facing me, so I had no shot. As he walked off, I drew. Jinx stopped at 40 yards, but I never got a shot because small branches were blocking his vitals.

Later, I had a good friend tell me I was an idiot for holding a bow when I could have been holding a rifle. In my mind, I had already shot Jinx with a bow once, and to shoot him now with a rifle wouldn’t be right. I wanted to kill him with my bow, and I’m more about the adventure in life than the kill.

After the rifle season ended, I got word that a gun hunter had missed Jinx due to his riflescope being off. The funny thing is, I remember hearing the shot at last light one evening and hoping it wasn’t Jinx meeting his demise. Bad luck for the gun hunter, but good luck for Jinx…and me!

The hunter who missed Jinx had also been getting pictures of the buck over a mile away from where I had been hunting, and almost three miles from where I knew Jinx was living in the summer months.

After rifle season ended, Jinx disappeared. Funny how a buck can just up and vanish. No sign of him, and I still had not figured out where he wintered. He would just be gone — no sheds, no pictures. When Jinx finally showed up again on my cameras prior to the September 2022 bow opener, he was another year older and wiser, which probably explains why he was almost totally nocturnal. I did get a few pictures of him at last light, which gave me hope.

September and October came and went with no encounters with Jinx from my stands. My cameras told me he was still alive, but he was hardly ever on his feet during daylight hours. So, I started formulating a hunt strategy for him based on his history.

On the morning of November 4, I hunted an area where I had seen Jinx in previous seasons at that time of year. My records also showed that at least one doe always seemed to come into heat in that area around November 5.

I watched a small six-pointer chase a doe around all morning long. I could have shot the youngster a dozen times. No Jinx, though.

That night, I was sitting in a blind I’d set up midsummer. The spot was in an area where my cameras had taken lots of daylight pictures of Jinx in 2021.

As luck would have it, the aforementioned small six-point and doe were in this area now — a quarter-mile from where I had sat that morning. The doe was again playing hard to get with the small buck, but I was hoping their antics would draw Jinx into the area before daylight faded.

Prior to climbing into my ground blind, I hung a tarsal gland I’d taken off a beautiful buck I had witnessed getting hit by a car the previous morning. My fingers were crossed that the doe-and-buck smells would bring Jinx within range, but the sun was fading fast, and I was starting to plan my next morning’s hunt in my head. Then, the small buck snapped his head up. His posture told me something was going on. Soon after, I saw the beams coming through the brush, and I knew it was Jinx!

I felt relatively calm as I grabbed my bow and drew. Just take one more step, I silently prayed, as I focused on what I knew was about to happen. Jinx did. As his front leg stepped forward to completely expose his vitals, he stopped — and I released my arrow.

It happened so fast, but my shot looked perfect, and I was confident I had killed Jinx this time. Then the adrenaline kicked into high gear.

I called Kenny, and he convinced me to wait a few hours before tracking Jinx, just in case, even though I could see good blood from my blind. Then I called Steve Amys — a longtime friend with whom I had confided in about the deer.

I met up with Kenny and Steve, and it didn’t take us long to realize we were looking at a short tracking job. The blood trail was great, and we soon found “my deer” a short distance away.

A flood of emotions went through my mind. I was truly blessed to have had the experience of chasing this big-woods swamp buck. I had been able to keep tabs on him and watch him grow. What a great night and an awesome adventure. I wanted to kill this deer with my bow, and I’d stayed true to myself, which made the whole deal even sweeter!

The author is a longtime friend of the magazine. He has written several articles for us and has also filmed various staff members on hunts for Bowhunter TV. He lives in Superior, Wisconsin.

Author’s Notes

My equipment included an Elite Energy 32 bow, Easton FMJ arrows fletched with real feathers (I still love feather fletching), 100-grain Trocar HB broadhead from Muzzy, and my favorite camo pullover hoodie.

Jinx officially scored 161 1/8 P&Y, and he was 6 ½ years old — my best estimate based off the pictures I had of him. He tipped the scales at a dressed weight of 228 pounds, making him my second-heaviest deer (237 pounds was my heaviest).