Author: Wallace Montgomery

The Hunt for the Heavy horns of South Georgia begins in the early morning.

It is a wet Sunday morning and we wake up early to prepare for the day ahead. My wife decided to stay  at camp because she had killed two deer days before.
  Wife gets her deer Wife gets her deer
My daughter and I continued to search for the heavy horns. As we start our  walk to the stand, we hear the sounds of the whistling wings of waterfowl flying off the roost. The wet leaves and light wind are in our favor as we slip through the tall pines. We press forward in a slow hurry  to make it to our stand before the sun rises.


We turn to the sound of  the thump thump of  hooves bounding off and we freeze with frustration as the white flags of the deer’s tail vanish in the darkness. We slow our walk to the stand even more. My mind is racing because we are 100yds from the stand and the sunlight is peaking through the trees. We made it to the base of the double stand and my daughter started her way up.  As I started my way up to join her,  I heard the sound of deer running for safety. Frustrated once again,  I decided to move to another stand to better our odds.

With my daughter in one stand and me in another, our odds are greater. Finally, we are set in the trees. Not long after,  there is movement to my right. It’s a young buck. For some entertainment, I reached for my grunt tube calling to the young deer. His curiosity gets the best of him as he comes to investigate the sound. After watching him search for the missing pieces to the puzzle, he vanished in the woods headed toward  my daughter’s stand. Excited that she may get a shot and possibly her first deer, I listen for a shot. Time goes by and I mark that one off as a missed opportunity for her.


Grabbing my grunt tube  again, I call blindly  and out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. My first thought was the young buck had come back. Over the ridge, all I could see was the back of a deer. As he started up the hill looking for the deer that called him to his death,  I noticed the heavy horns. I lined up my shot and squeezed off a 100 grain  round from my 243. The sound echoed through the creek bottom and the 9 point buck lay where he once stood. After hunting a little while longer,  I climbed down to get my daughter  so she could experience this moment. We laugh and take pictures while reminiscing about the events that just took place. The hunt is not always about the kill  but more about the memories you share with friends and family.


Georgia buck
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