In the quiet, snow-covered landscapes of Manitoba, where the forest stretches endlessly and the winter winds carry the call of the wild, my hunt for a giant whitetail buck would soon become a tribute to family, tradition, and memories that run deep. The 2024 season brought with it an unforgettable experience, as I set out on a saddle hunting adventure to pursue a monarch whitetail buck—an animal that would honor my grandfather’s memory.
Saddle hunting is a unique method that requires patience, skill, and adaptability. Using a climbing saddle, I perched high in a tree, blending into the surroundings as I waited for the elusive buck to appear. The trees surrounding me were bare, the perfect backdrop for a whitetail hunter hoping to stay hidden. It was early in the season, and the air was cold, but the excitement of the hunt kept me warm as I quietly scanned the woods below.
The hunt was personal. My grandfather had introduced me to the world of hunting when I was just a kid. I often thought back to those early days, when he’d teach me how to read the signs of the forest, track animals, and respect the land. Now, as I prepared for this hunt, I knew that every step, every move, would be a tribute to him. This hunt, in particular, was for Grandpaw.
As the day wore on, the silence of the forest was only broken by the occasional rustling of leaves. Then, the moment I had been waiting for arrived. A massive whitetail buck, the kind of monarch you only dream of encountering, emerged from the dense brush. His rack was impressive—tall, thick, and wide, with tines that seemed to reach for the sky. My heart raced as I carefully drew my bow, taking aim at the broadside shot.
The wind was in my favor, and the buck was focused on feeding, unaware of my presence high in the tree. With steady hands, I released the arrow. The shot was true, striking the buck cleanly. The monarch ran a short distance before collapsing, and I couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of gratitude and connection to my grandfather.
The hunt wasn’t just about the trophy—it was about the journey, the memories, and honoring the one who had taught me everything I knew about hunting. As I approached the downed buck, I whispered a quiet “thank you” to Grandpaw, knowing that this one was for him. The experience would stay with me forever, not just as a successful hunt, but as a celebration of family, tradition, and the bond that hunting creates.
