In the first light of dawn, I found myself in Central Nebraska, bow in hand, setting out on new public land. Over the past year, I’d put in the time and miles, scouting several public access areas. Determined to challenge myself, I aimed to harvest a buck on public ground rather than the private land I was used to. This wasn’t just about the hunt, it was about growth, testing my patience, and learning more about deer behavior and myself along the way.
As I drove through the early morning darkness to my chosen spot, I quickly understood why public access hunting in Nebraska has a reputation for being tough. Just as I was pulling into the access area, two other pickups arrived, their headlights piercing the dark like challengers in an unspoken competition. Rather than staking my claim and competing for space, I made a split-second decision and turned north, driving an hour further to a smaller, more secluded public access area. I was hopeful I’d have this land to myself.
This specific piece of public land is sandwiched between two large bean fields, and a majestic flowing river lines the northern border. The combination of food, water, and cover was promising, and I felt a surge of optimism as I pulled into the small, empty lot.
The morning hunt unfolded under warming skies, the crispness of dawn melting into the reality of an unseasonably warm day. By midday, the temperature was nearing 80 degrees, not ideal hunting weather. I was sweating under my layers, swatting at persistent gnats, and realized that opening day may be a bust this year. However, with each setback, my determination only grew.
Over the next two months, I continued my pursuit on public land, shifting my focus east, closer to home. Here, on a small patch of public ground, I spent hours exploring every inch, learning the land’s secrets. I noticed patterns in the terrain – the gentle slope of a ridge and a well-worn deer trail winding through the brush.
Eventually, I found what I believed to be the perfect spot – a heavily wooded area along a creek bordered by private corn and bean fields. This spot was a deer’s passageway, leading them from the fields to a secluded freshwater pond. Evidence of deer activity was everywhere – buck rubs on saplings, countless tracks, and fresh deer scat. The sight of a massive rub sent my imagination racing. What kind of buck left this? My desire for success was fueled by every clue, every sign that this area held the prize I was after.
I decided to build a makeshift ground blind from fallen branches and tall weeds, hoping to surprise an unlucky deer with a well-placed arrow. Over the following month, I had several close encounters that both tested my patience and fueled my excitement.
On a dreary afternoon hunt, I finally saw some deer movement. I remained absolutely still, barely daring to breathe as two does wandered within four yards of me, completely unaware. They grazed on the luscious clover, so close I could almost touch them, lingering for 20 minutes before moving on. The encounter left my heart pounding, even though I didn’t release an arrow.
Later, in the same spot, I encountered two young bucks. The larger of the two was a 3x4 whitetail. I decided to draw back and try my fate at a rushed shot but misjudged the range, sending an arrow just over his back. The other, a curious fork buck, caught sight of me before I could even make a move. We locked eyes for a tense moment before he bounded away with a snort, warning every deer in the area of my presence.
After being busted more than three times while hunting from the ground, I decided it was time to try an elevated approach. Heading to my local Scheels and armed with research, I decided to purchase a Rivers Edge pack-in stand. With my new tree stand strapped to my back and a set of 10 climbing pegs, I hiked back to a secluded corner of the public land.
Just 10 yards from my ground blind stood a perfect maple tree. Its sturdy trunk was free of lower limbs, and clear shooting lanes extended in multiple directions. After two hours of carefully screwing in pegs, climbing the tree, and hauling my stand 15 feet up, I was ready to rattle in a buck from above.
Just as I was settling in, the calm woods around me exploded with noise. On the neighboring private land, someone decided to reenact World War II, unloading a barrage of gunfire followed by a thunderous Tannerite explosion that shook the entire public access area. My initial frustration simmered, but I stayed put, determined to make the most of my first tree sit. The golden hour of daylight might still bring a chance.
With only 20 minutes of light left, I reached for my 4x4 matching sheds and gave a few solid rattles, followed by a deep, resonant grunt. Moments later, the sound of crunching leaves caught my attention. I peered through the trees, and my heart raced. A mature buck was headed my way, drawn in by the calls. I watched as he approached, stopping at a stump I had carefully ranged at 30 yards. I gave him a quiet “merp” to stop him in his tracks, and he froze. I settled my 30-yard pin just below his abdomen, relaxed my breathing, and aimed low to account for any sudden jump as I released the arrow. I squeezed my release, and the arrow flew straight and true. The satisfying sound of impact rang out. Clean contact and a full passthrough. The buck leapt, twisted in midair, and took off, but within 50 yards, he stumbled to a stop. In less than 20 seconds, it was over.
Heart racing, hands shaking, I began to climb down from the stand. My excitement had me in a daze, and I nearly slipped on a foot peg as I descended. The feat I’d achieved started to sink in as I approached my quarry. From dodging fellow hunters, battling unseasonably warm temperatures, and missing earlier shots to enduring random explosions that shook the woods, all the frustrations and close calls felt worth it as I reached my prize. Antlers pointing to the sky is a beautiful sight to see.
As I reached him, I rested my bow on his back and dropped to my knees. Gently running my hand across his back, I gave thanks to him for the challenge of the hunt and the meat which would be cherished by family and friends. The emotions washed over me – gratitude, respect, and pride in the effort it took to reach this moment.
With the final task at hand, I quartered him under the dim beam of my headlamp, working quickly to get the precious meat to a cooler. I loaded my backpack with the rear quarters and gave a call to my friend who agreed to help with the pack out. Hands bloody and clothes soaked from sweat, I trudged through the darkness with a full pack of precious meat and a smile on my face.
As I loaded up my truck and headed home, I felt that deep sense of accomplishment that comes only from a true hunting adventure.
Reflecting on the entire season, I realize how much I learned. I now understand the importance of having multiple backup public areas to jump around to in case of overcrowding. I’ve learned to be ready and willing to adapt my strategy, shifting from ground hunting to tree stand sits. I know the value of searching for good deer sign and pushing myself to hike to remote areas other hunters avoid.
Success on public land isn’t guaranteed, but with the right mindset, unrelenting persistence, and a willingness to learn, it’s absolutely achievable. For me, this season wasn’t just about harvesting a buck, it was about growing as a hunter and gaining a deeper connection to the land and wildlife. The memories of the journey, the challenges, and the triumph will stay with me forever, fueling my passion for seasons to come.