Worth The Wait: Persistence Pays off with Last-Minute Big Illinois Buck

Before my eye caught the brownish mass drifting irregularly through the thick tree line 200 yards away, I’d been seriously considering filling my doe tag. It was the first afternoon of Illinois’ second firearm season, and from my stand tucked inside a small woodlot, I could see five of them milling around in a harvested cornfield to my right.

Earlier that morning, I’d stumbled my way through leftover snow to hunt a stand down in a timbered bottom, but I’d come up empty, seeing only one doe. That first sit’s minimal activity and the anticipation of bringing home meat had me contemplating shooting a doe. The large, russet-colored apparition in the trees changed that in an instant.

With the does now forgotten, I watched what appeared to be a big-bodied deer filter through the timber across the cornfield. From my stand—set in a pinch point roughly southeast of the tree line—I couldn’t make any judgments about the animal’s antlers, let alone take an ethical shot. The strip of timber it was walking through sat between two crop fields and couldn’t have been more than 30 yards wide. Yet the deer remained a ghost, easing through the trees, before vanishing almost as quickly as it had appeared. It would take much longer for my heart rate to return to a normal level.

This scenario, and others like it, had been my reality each time I’d pursued Midwestern whitetails. Prior hunts in Nebraska, Ohio, Missouri and Illinois had all variously ended with the same unfortunate result: tag soup. As hours passed and light faded, part of me wondered if this trip might conclude in similar fashion even though I had three more days to hunt. Another part felt optimistic. While I’d never completely seen the deer, it had moved like a big buck, and I had seen plenty of does during my afternoon sit. There were deer around, and I was hunting prime ground in the big-buck mecca of west-central Illinois.

LAND OF GIANTS

The Prairie State has a well-earned reputation for trophy whitetails. It’s second only to Wisconsin in terms of Boone and Crockett whitetail entries (1,642), and it boasts the current world-record hunter-killed whitetail buck (Luke Brewster’s 327 7/8-inch non-typical monster). It has also produced five of Boone and Crockett’s all-time top 10 typical (2) and non-typical (3) whitetails.

While the entire state offers big-buck potential, west-central Illinois is especially renowned, with one key area unofficially crowned as whitetail hunting’s “Golden Triangle.” Hunters debate the exact counties composing this fertile ground between the Mississippi and Illinois rivers. Pike, Adams and Brown counties are almost universally included, and many add Calhoun, Hancock and Schuyler counties, too. Nearby Henderson, McDonough and Fulton counties aren’t usually included but also harbor big bucks, as do Knox and Peoria counties farther north and east. In truth, that entire river corridor from Calhoun County to Mercer, Knox and Peoria counties has historically produced lots of trophy bucks. The 13-county swath (Illinois has 102 counties) currently accounts for 27 percent of the state’s total Boone and Crockett entries—not to mention many good, non-Booner bucks each year.

This is likely why Justin Roach, owner of Performance Outdoors (performanceoutdoors.com), situated his outfitting business in the region. Described as a boutique outfitter, Performance Outdoors prioritizes creating ideal deer habitat and limiting pressure to ensure quality hunts. The outfit, based in a quaint farmhouse in Tennessee, Ill., owns or has hunting access on roughly 4,000 acres of private property both inside the Golden Triangle and in adjacent counties like McDonough and Henderson. Staff conduct year-round habitat management and improvement projects—creating food plots, clearing brush, conducting prescribed burns and more—to attract, and keep, deer on the land. There’s also a 140-inch minimum rack score requirement, which dissuades shooting immature bucks, and hunters aren’t allowed to conduct deer drives or needlessly wander on properties.

More fascinating is how technology is employed in hunting strategies. The first night in camp my guide, Hunter Mast, had shown me trail-camera pictures of some target bucks I might encounter on the McDonough County property I’d hunt. One, a giant non-typical buck, hadn’t been caught on camera since October. The other, a tall typical 8-pointer, used the property more regularly but appeared to spend significant time in thicker timber and cover. After scrolling through photos, we game-planned my first two sits with the HuntStand app, which the outfitter uses heavily for strategizing and interacting with properties. Each night, we’d examine well-marked stand and blind locations, access routes and designated parking areas in the app and devise a plan based on forecasted weather and wind conditions.

We also used QuietKat’s purpose-built hunting e-bikes throughout our hunt. No ordinary bikes, these tough rides feature powerful electric motors that assist with pedaling or propel the bikes completely. Robust frames and suspension forks carry hunters and gear, and rugged fat tires traverse difficult terrain. The e-bikes are incredibly quiet, allowing stealthy entry and exit, and they help prevent hunters from leaving behind scent and sweating excessively before sits. I liked the Apex HD due to its lower Kick Through frame option, which made mounting easy with bulky clothes, and its powerful automatic-shifting hub-drive motor.

SINGLE-MINDED PURSUIT

Surveying a ridge on my third day of hunting, I couldn’t help but notice the contrast between these modern hunting tools and the seemingly antiquated firearm in my hands. This was, of course, patently untrue. The rifle, a single-shot model from Henry Repeating Arms, was virtually brand new, as was the .360 Buckhammer straight-wall cartridge it fired. But in the age of magazine-fed bolt-actions and semi-autos and ever-faster cartridges, it seemed a step back in time. However, in a sense it was a step forward, one driven by a recent regulation change.

Illinois, like some other Midwestern states, previously permitted hunters to use only shotguns firing slugs, muzzleloaders and handguns chambered in certain cartridges during firearm deer seasons. This was due to concerns over stray bullets in  densely populated areas with high-velocity bottleneck cartridges. For the 2023 season, Illinois changed its regulations, allowing centerfire rifles during gun seasons—with some caveats.

Like other states, Illinois would permit the use of straight-wall centerfire cartridges .30 caliber or larger (and similar-caliber bottleneck cartridges with case lengths less than 1.4 inches). These cartridges, propelling short, fat projectiles that lose velocity quickly, were deemed as safe as previous options, while offering improved accuracy and ballistic performance. However, unlike other former “shotgun-only” states, Illinois also stipulated that rifles must either be manufactured as a single-shot or be modified to hold only one round.

This hunt was a unique opportunity to participate in Illinois’ inaugural season with centerfire rifles, and the Henry single-shot in .360 Buckhammer was a perfect choice. Still, as someone who had used bolt-action rifles and speedy cartridges to take almost all my big game, I had some concerns.

First was: What if I must make a quick follow-up shot? On its heels came: What if I need to take a shot much beyond 200 yards? I’d practiced some quick reloads for the former, and I’d studied my load’s trajectory curve for the latter, but it still felt like that first shot would need to be perfect.

So far, neither had been an issue. With most stands, sloping terrain or thick cover precluded shots past 200 yards. More to the point, through two and a half days of hunting, I hadn’t seen a shooter buck. After that first afternoon’s brief, speculative adrenaline rush, my next three sits were exercises in patience and determination. A rainy second morning spent in a ground blind yielded just two does, while the afternoon sit—overlooking a cut ag field and natural grasses on the edge of timber—produced no deer sightings at all. The third morning, I hunted a stand above a brushy draw in the timbered bottoms, but two does and a young forkhorn buck were all that appeared.

I liked my high ridgetop setup the third afternoon, though. A well-trod game trail skirted the ridge’s edge to my left. Ahead, the hill sloped diagonally left to right, leading back to this same trail, which continued off to my right. Behind me, the ridge, dropping steeply into the wooded bottom I’d hunted that morning, acted as a natural funnel. I knew that bucks often traveled such ridges searching for does during the rut, and while we were likely a couple weeks past that magical time, I still felt good about the spot.

Around 3 p.m., a trio of does appeared to my left, walking unhurriedly along the trail. Once they passed, six more showed up, along with two immature bucks. As they neared the hill’s crest, a larger buck materialized from seemingly nowhere and chased the herd into the thick timber. My body crackled with anticipation, and my heart thumped with abandon.

I waited anxiously for the buck to reemerge, time seemingly crawling by while I watched. Just as I began to accept that he might not reappear, I caught a glimpse of him slipping through the timber on the far side of the hill. Using my bino, I tried examining him more closely through intermittent gaps in the trees. He looked like an 8-pointer, maybe the tall one Hunter had shown me the first night, though I wasn’t certain. Nor could I say for sure that his rack was over the 140-inch minimum. Still, I swapped bino for rifle and peered through the low-power scope.

In whitetail hunting, some moments seem to pass in an instant and yet linger forever in the mind. When this buck cleared the timber’s edge to my right and stood broadside in the trail, I saw him a bit more clearly. In that second, I decided I would shoot him. Yet, as I moved my thumb to cock the rifle, the buck turned and began slowly walking down the path. Dejected, I helplessly watched his white rump disappear in my scope as he carelessly descended the hill and dropped out of view.

A CLOSING WINDOW

Sharing a deer camp with old and new friends is always fun. The camaraderie and the peace of spending time in the woods practically guarantee it. However, as days pass and other hunters tag out, a silent pressure builds for those who have not. On the season’s fourth and final day, and after what happened the previous afternoon, I felt every bit of this. However, I was not alone. While three hunters in our group had tagged out the first day, and another on the third, five of us were still hoping for a last-day miracle.

My final morning sit produced no such luck. Hunting the same stand I sat the first morning, I endured a persistent cold drizzle and saw nothing but a lone coyote. After my rain-soaked sit, I met up with Tom Kotz, one of the other hunters yet to tag out. He’d seen little on the land he’d been assigned to, and today, we’d both hunt different parts of the same property. We ate lunch in his truck while discussing our morning sits then parted ways.

As I biked toward my stand, a shot rang out nearby. I’d heard many the past four days, and I’d even seen another deer hunter accessing adjacent property the second day. I assumed the shot originated there. Yet, in my stand 30 minutes later, I received a surprise text—a photo of Tom posing with a nice buck. He’d come across the deer while walking to his stand and dropped him where he stood. I congratulated him and silently hoped for some luck of my own.

Like the previous afternoon, this stand was situated atop the same high ridge but farther south and east. The area was wooded yet more open, apart from a thick, mostly uninterrupted, line of brush and trees about 100 yards ahead and running perpendicular to me. A little left of that, also about 100 yards away, the land opened into one pocket of a harvested cornfield. This was part of the same field I’d hunted the first afternoon, roughly 200 yards northeast of the other stand.

Things were quiet again until 3 p.m., when several does and two young bucks approached from the right. With it being the season’s final afternoon, I briefly considered taking one of the mature does, but I let them pass. About an hour later, a solitary doe appeared, forcing me to mull this decision over again. I probably lifted my rifle two or three times while contemplating the low probability of seeing a shooter buck in the last 45 minutes of legal light. Illogically, I again let the doe pass.

Afterward, I spent the next few minutes silently berating myself for not taking a shot. You blew it. That was your last chance to shoot something this trip. That was stupid. Amidst this mental barrage, I happened to look up, and there, walking across a small clearing in the line of brush at my 12 o’clock, was the tall 8-pointer.

Before I could shoulder my rifle, he crossed behind the other side of the brush. The mental abuse began again, but this time, I remained focused. I kept the gun up and ready, waiting to see if the buck would come out.

With less than 20 minutes of legal shooting light left, the buck eased from the brush and walked toward the field edge. A line of trees impeded a shot, but if he kept walking, I thought I might get an opportunity. As the buck slowly ambled along, stepping into a gap between the trees, I cocked the rifle and took a deep breath. The deer must’ve heard me shift because he turned a bit, going from quartering away to almost perfectly broadside. In another small, infinite moment, I tucked the crosshair just behind his shoulder and gently pressed the trigger.

At the shot, he sprinted, circling around and coming back toward my stand. I broke open the single-shot Henry and was about to load another round until I saw the buck stop about 20 yards away. He stood still for a second. Then his back legs buckled, and he collapsed.

After a couple minutes, I composed myself enough to send a message on our camp group text chat: “Buck Down!” I figured I’d get a few messages back congratulating me, but instead a frenetic stream of texts ensued. A handful of excited, congratulatory remarks came through, and then there was one from fellow hunter Matt Rice: “Make that one more buck down.” Several more enthusiastic messages followed. A little later came a simple text from Jack Oller: “And another.” Full-blown pandemonium ensued via text, and celebrations would only continue once we all returned to the lodge.

In the last half-hour of Illinois’ second firearm deer season, we’d taken three nice bucks. Eight of nine hunters had tagged out, half of us doing so on the last afternoon of the four-day season. It was an insane turn of events, and a more dramatic finish than I could’ve ever imagined. Whether by luck or grit, I’d finally taken a solid Midwestern whitetail buck. My fellow hunters and I celebrated our good fortune and the conclusion of a very successful whitetail camp well into the night.

STRAIGHT-WALL SETUP

These three pieces of gear were clutch in Illinois’ deer woods.

Illinois’ unique hunting regulations and tight, wooded environments necessitated some equally specific gear. The Henry Single Shot Steel Rifle in .360 Buckhammer ($597; henryusa.com) proved to be an ideal, accurate firearm. The sub-7-pound gun with 22-inch blued steel barrel and 37 1/2-inch overall length was incredibly handy in the field. The locking lever atop the frame is easy to use and can be set up for left- or right-handed operation.

American walnut furniture is attractive and comfortable in hand, and the gun, featuring no external safety save a rebounding hammer, is simple to operate. The rifle comes equipped with a fully adjustable folding leaf rear sight and brass bead front sight, and it’s drilled and tapped for optics. Henry offers the rifle in nine other popular chamberings, three of which are available with a highly polished brass frame.

An acceptable straight-wall cartridge was needed for this hunt, and Federal Premium’s 180-grain Power-Shok .360 Buckhammer load ($39.99; federalpremium.com) fit the bill. Leaving the muzzle at 2,375 fps, the jacketed-soft-point bullet provides ballistics and power similar to the .30-30 Win. but with less recoil, and it proved deadly on my Illinois buck. For my scope, I relied on Bushnell’s Trophy Quick Acquisition 1-6x24 mm ($204.99; bushnell.com). The 1-6X magnification range was perfect for the wooded environments I hunted, and I appreciated its light 18-ounce weight. The illuminated dot reticle performed great in low light around dawn and dusk, when deer are most active.

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• This article was featured in the December/January 2025 issue of Game & Fish magazine. Click to subscribe.

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