I'm not into owning a bunch of guns. My weapon in Vietnam was a .50 cal. It's difficult to put one of those under your pillow at night.

I'd been hunting this buck for about 7 years after first finding one of his sheds. I almost fell over when I stumbled onto it. I always do scouting year round. That's how you increase your chances for a trophy buck.

Two years later I found another shed. It was obviously from the same buck due to the configuration. One of the eye guards has a distinct twist to it. All three of the sheds I found over the seven year period had the twist.

I showed up and pitched my deer camp a week before the season started. The fall air in the high desert is filled with sage and juniper odors. I get all pumped up heading east as it's so much different from the coastal region where I reside.

Over the years I've found that deer like the smell and taste of Coca Cola. I think it has something to do with the sugar and syrup mixture. I pack a couple of bottles with me so that I can keep them fresh while marking the areas where I've seen evidence of big bucks. I try to find indentations in rocks to pour the cola in so that it will stand a while before drying up. When I check back on my "licks" I can tell if deer have literally licked the cola from the indentation. Seems crazy, but it works for me.

About 4 days before the season opened I got a glimpse of a large buck down in one of the canyons where I'd deposited a "lick". He was moving away from me, but I could still see that he was trophy category. That night I could hardly sleep for the mental visions related to the sighting. I decided to leave that particular canyon alone until the day before the season opened.

While checking other "licks" the next 3 days I spotted 4 more moderately large multi-tined bucks. Nothing like the big one though.

The afternoon before the season opened I slid down into the canyon where I'd seen the monster. I deposited several ounces of cola cover a large area. Each "lick" led to the next one. The last "lick" was strategically placed in an area just below my stand.

Opening morning finally arrived. I was up way before dark. I donned my clothing that I'd vacuum packed specifically for opening day. I didn't want any scents triggering a nice buck. No breakfast either as it would be loaded with odors.

Out here in Oregon we have a factory that makes "Ughs" booties. They are large fury boots similar to what the Eskimos wear. I make sure I have an oversized pair that I slip over my regular boots in order to cut down on the noise. The area I hunt has a lot of shale and rock breaks. It is most difficult to remain quiet when traversing this kind of landscape.

I made it to my stand about 30 minutes before daylight. It was chilly, but all I could think about was that monster buck. I nestled in between two rocks and laid my rifle over the one in front of me. It would make a perfect rest for the 300+ yard shot if I needed to take it.

Light began to ease out of the eastern horizon. It would take a while for my canyon to be illuminated as it was running slightly NNW. I had all morning.

Around 7:30 I caught a glimpse of several does and a nice 4 point buck across the river from my canyon. I noticed that a couple of the does were looking down hill into my canyon. As they fed they continued to glance back at my draw. I knew that something was underneath me that was perking their interest.

I had just looked at my watch when movement a few hundred yards downhill from me caught my attention. It was an antler glistening in the sunlight. I pulled up my binoculars and spotted a sizeable buck partially hidden by some vegetation. He was being very cautious. I watched him move across a small opening to one of my "licks". It was the “Monster”. My heart started pounding so loud it sounded like someone was running up behindme.  As I glassed him he partook of the cola. Every once in awhile he'd raise his head and look uphill towards the last "lick".

I fidgeted with my rifle in anticipation. "Breath in...release slowly...pull the trigger with steady pressure...watch the impact."

The buck moved along a rim rock and then poked only his head out. This guy was smart. I must have waited for 15 minutes before he decided to move to the last "lick". He hurried quickly as it was in a vulnerable area and he knew it.

I held the 3X9 Leopold scope just behind his right front shoulder. As I took a deep breath and let it out I began putting pressure on the trigger. Soon it broke loose and all I heard was "CLICK". Just then I saw the big buck look uphill right into my scope. My heart rate seemed to double. He backed up a step from the "lick" and turned directly towards me with his head held high. His magnificent antlers were silhouetted brilliantly by the sunlight. I held steady as I had no other options.

The scope, buck and I became as one. I held my eyelid open so long that the eye filled with a huge tear. I could not wipe it as the buck was still trying to detect where the strange noise came from.

In my many years of hunting I have only had two factory misfires while using Remington cartridges. Ironically the other misfire happened when I pulled the trigger on the biggest bull Elk that I have had the chance to knock down. Now that's another story.

The tear in my shooting eye grew in size and I tried not blink while holding steady on the buck after the misfire. He'd turned uphill and was facing me at about 225 yards. Man they have super audio in order to hear the click of a firing pin from that distance. It was downwind too.

What a terrible feeling knowing that if I moved to chamber another round that the huge buck would be gone. It seemed like every breath moved me from side to side. My heart continued to pound loudly as I sat like a stone statue.

After what seemed like 10 minutes the big buck side stepped to my left and raised his nose up in the air. When doing so his large rack nestled against his sides. I knew his eyes were still searching for whatever alerted him.

Another 3 or 4 minutes passed. My arms were now quivering from the weight of the Ruger. I just knew that once I moved that he would bolt. My field of fire was very limited so I would not have a chance to nail him if he fled.

Just when I was about to give up I heard the sound of a rolling rock coming from the other side of the river. I shifted my eyes to the right and quickly noted that a doe had caused a sizeable rock to clamor downhill as she was attempting to bed down. In a split second I glanced back at the Monster buck. To my surprise he was glancing in the direction of the doe.

I don't even recall ejecting the dud round and chambering a new one. Everything happened so quickly. As my bolt slammed shut the big buck looked back uphill at me. I lowered my bead to his brisket. This time the .270 belched out its 130 grain bullet at about 2,800 fps. I blinked and didn't see the impact. When I focused on the buck once again he was still standing there as if nothing had happened.

I ejected the second round and slammed another one into the chamber. Just as I leveled down on him again he took a gentle leap behind a rim rock. I was shocked..! Had I missed him in my haste? I scanned the openings to my left hoping that I'd get another shot if I'd missed. Nothing!

The route down to the spot where the Monster buck had been standing was full of heavy rock breaks. It was impossible to remain quiet. I was so excited to get down there that I gave up on trying to be silent.

When I arrived at the location I looked to my left and didn't spot him. I quickly scanned the rocky ground for blood. Nothing! I had that awful feeling when you've let a grand opportunity pass before your eyes.

I could see where the buck had scrambled away from the original opening. As I moved in and out of the rim rock on the game trail I thought I spotted a small speck of blood on a leaf. When my finger touched the bloodspot it smeared. My hopes skyrocketed, but now I was wondering where he could have gone and how accurate my shot was.

After maneuvering around a couple more out growths I raised my eyes as I rounded another rim rock. Instantly I was looking into his eyes from about 25 feet. As I began to raise me rifle he raised his massive rack up into the air one more time. The Monster buck leveled his head and let out a loud groan that came from within. I swear I could see his eyes glaze over as he fell to my left. It was a bittersweet moment.

I walked up to the Monster buck and could not believe the size of his antlers. His body was of rather normal size. His antlers seemed to dwarf him. I reached down and put my hand around the base of his right antler. With it in place I could see that there was still a 2-3 inch space between my thumb and forefinger. The buck was truly a trophy. I could see the entry hole right where I'd aimed.

Now the work began. I was hunting alone so I field dressed him to let to him begin the cooling process. While doing so I noted that the bullet had penetrated his heart and exited through his anal area. He had moved quite a distance on sheer adrenalin. I just sat there admiring the animal for a long time.

Finally I began boning out the hindquarters for my first pack. It took two days to get him out of that steep canyon. The first night I rigged up a pulley and raised the remaining meat up into a juniper tree so the coyotes would not have a feast.

The mental images of that fine buck will be etched in my memory forever. His mount hangs in my den. I call him my "Coca Cola Buck".