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Then my Uncle Randy, who’s my dad’s twin brother, died just before last year’s bowhunt, so Dad and I just didn’t feel up to it last fall; the three of us had always done everything together. But this year we were ready. We were hunting this new property in Missouri, and the activity seemed to all be happening on this remote section of the farm, where some CRP met a creek. I went back there and tucked in to a patch of willows, right on the ground. I rattled and had four small bucks trot right in and never see me, so I liked the setup. A while later, a big doe came out in the grass—and right behind her was this giant. I had one long shot at him but it was windy and I passed it. He was walking away when I rattled once, and he ignored it. Then I looked up to the sky and said, ‘Bring him in to me Uncle Randy.’ I hit the horns hard, and the buck spun around and walked right in for the shot. The biggest buck I’d shot before him was 140 inches, and I like to think my uncle had a big part of this special buck.

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