02/15/2026
Late October of 2023 is when it started.
The first time I laid eyes on him, I knew he was something special. A mature buck—about four years old by my best guess—with the kind of frame that makes you stop mid-step. Heavy beams, long tines, and a presence about him that said he didn’t get that way by accident. He carried himself like a king of that ridge.
I remember thinking right then, if everything plays out right, he could be something unforgettable.
At first, I planned to hunt him that year. I spent several weeks just watching—glassing from a distance, checking cameras, learning his habits. The more I studied him, the more I respected him. He wasn’t careless. He used the wind like it was second nature. He traveled smart. He bedded on the top of a ridge that tapered off to a point, always positioning himself where the wind would hit him straight in the nose. He trusted his instincts, and that’s what kept him alive.
Then just when I’d finally made up my mind to make a move on him… he showed up on camera with his right side broke clean off at the base.
Just my luck.
I couldn’t help but laugh. A deer with that kind of potential, and now he was lopsided. From that day on, I started calling him Lucky. Not because of me—but because he kept catching breaks.
After that, I wasn’t even sure I’d see him again. Mature bucks have a way of disappearing. But summer rolled around, and I started checking the spots where I believed he’d be summering. Sure enough—there he was. Bigger. Wiser. Still Lucky.
That’s when the real chess match began.
Using cell cameras, I tracked his pattern carefully. I paid attention not just to when he moved, but how he moved with the wind. He would always approach his bedding area with the wind in his favor—nose into it, every time. But occasionally, when he stepped out to feed in the evenings, he’d put himself at a disadvantage with the wind at his back.
That was the window.
I made a rule for myself: I would only hunt him in the evenings. No unnecessary pressure. No bumping him from his bed. I set up along the top of that ridge where it ran to a point—right where his travel route narrowed. I waited for the right wind, the right conditions, and the right moment.
Patience was the strategy. Discipline was the weapon.
And when the opportunity finally came, I was ready.
Lucky had lived up to his name more than once. He survived a broken antler. He survived another season. He survived hunters who never knew he was there. But that evening, with the wind working just slightly against him, the chess match ended.
The buck that once stood proud on that ridge now stands preserved in memory—and in mount—a reminder of the patience, the strategy, and the respect that went into the hunt.
Lucky wasn’t just a deer.
He was a lesson in playing the wind, trusting the process, and waiting for the right move
Note from the taxidermist: this video started out being 3 1/2 minutes long. I had to chop it down to 90 seconds.. if you enjoy this sort of content, please give me a “FOLLOW”, like comment and share.. Thanks for watching!! Jake Bailey
