The Philosophy of Big Buck Hunting

How to take mature whitetail bucks under the toughest conditions: heavily hunted public and timber lease lands.

ThePhilosophyOfBigBuckHuntingCoverThere has been nothing new written about Whitetail deer hunting in the last ten years. The Philosophy of Big Buck Hunting is not a lengthy tell-all book on every facet of deer hunting. Rather, it is a concise compilation of the knowledge and tactics necessary to take pressured trophy bucks on public and timber lease lands. While writing The Philosophy of Big Buck Hunting, author Rick DeStefanis trimmed away all the unnecessary clutter and fluff that fills most deer hunting books to create a clear presentation and distillation of the things that really matter.

Experienced and novice hunters alike will find this book takes their whitetail deer hunting skills to new levels. So, get out of that shooting house, get away from that food plot, and go down into the woods. Walk the beaver dams through the swamps, thread the new growth of clear-cuts, learn what really matters and how to take big bucks consistently. Read The Philosophy of Big Buck Hunting and learn how to think like a big buck hunter.

Rick DeStefanis began hunting when he was nine years old with a 32 lb. Bear recurve and a handful of mismatched cedar arrows. He has well over fifty years of hunting experience, mostly on public and timber lease lands in northern Mississippi where he now lives. Although nearly sixty-five years old, Rick still hunts with bow, rifle, and camera, but admittedly shoots more with the camera nowadays. A few of his many deer and other wildlife photographs are featured on his photo page.

Paperback
available fromamazon
List Price: $12.95, 5.5″ x 8.5″ (13.97 x 21.59 cm)
Black & White on White paper 152 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1456306687 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1456306685
BISAC: Sports & Recreation / Hunting

Some of Rick DeStefanis's Big Bucks Taken on Public Land

Some of Rick DeStefanis’s Big Bucks Taken on Public Land

Independent review by renowned Canadian hunter Othmar Vohringer:

d112f-buck03

We all dream of hunting big bucks but some of us don’t know how to hunt old mossy horns while others, hunting on public land, believe that there are no big bucks where they hunt. Well, I’ve got good news for you.

Rick DeStefanis, a veteran public land big buck hunter of many years, is the author of a new book, The Philosophy of Big Buck Hunting.

After reading the book from cover to cover there was no doubt in my mind that this IS the book many hunters have been waiting for. The Philosophy of Big Buck Hunting is not your run of the mill book written by some celebrity hunter having the good fortune to hunt on managed land or go on guided trips to prime whitetail destinations. No, Rick does his whitetail deer hunting where ninety-five percent of all hunters hunt: on heavily pressured public land.

The wealth of knowledge Rick gathered in over fifty years of hunting pressured big bucks is represented in a book that is written in a language everyone can comprehend and without the usual hype common to other “big buck hunting books.”

The Philosophy of Big Buck Hunting contains 4 chapters, six key principles and over forty tips on hunting big bucks. It starts with the most important information every aspiring big buck hunter needs to know: “How a trophy whitetail hunter thinks.” If you want to hunt big bucks the road to success starts with you, not with what camouflage you wear, what scent you use or what rifle caliber you shoot. Trophy whitetail hunting is about a change in hunting philosophy and Rick does a great job of explaining what it takes to acquire the mindset of a trophy hunter.
(Review excerpt © Othmar Vohringer. Visit Vohringer’s blog to read the full review.)

Read More Reviews on Amazon

Taken on Corps of Engineer Public Hunting Land

Taken on Corps of Engineer Public Hunting Land

Whitetail Deer Hunting at its finest

Whitetail Deer Hunting at its finest

 

Connect with Rick on:

goodreadsamazon

 

You may also enjoy my other books below:

Melody Hill: A Vietnam War Novel

Gomorrah Principle: A Vietnam War Sniper Story

Raeford’s MVP: Military Fiction with a Love Story

Valley of the Purple Hearts: Book #4 of my Vietnam War Series

Tallahatchie: Southern Fiction and Dark Comedy

Rawlings, No Longer Young: A Western Historical Fiction Novel

Recent Posts

Light to Moderate Tornadoes with Scattered Cats

Light to Moderate Tornadoes

January 11, 2020

Sometime Around 5:00 a.m. Saturday Morning

The Cedar View Community, DeSoto County, Mississippi

My yellow male labrador retreiver busted out of his laundry room digs Saturday morning and ran back to our bedroom where he jumped on the bed and began licking my face and whining. Do you know what it’s like to be awakened from a deep sleep with a big mutt licking your face? I cussed him, but my wife Janet said she thought she heard distant thunder. Blondie (yes, my dog is named after a big Swede paratrooper army buddy who had that name) has experienced many thunder storms without acting like a wussy, so I got up, stumbled into the family room and turned on the TV.

And of course, while I’m trying to punch up the TV channel, my cotton pickin’ cell phone starts some kind of screaming claxon warning. Technology! Damned it, Jones. Gimme a break. Anyway, sure enough, there it was, a tornado warning with a big red cone coming our way—Hernando, Lewisburg, Cedar View and Olive Branch. I went to the back door, opened it and got stampeded by a heard of cats running between my legs. All this before my first cup of coffee…D#~!!! What can I say? I am NOT a %&$ morning person…at least not before a half-pot of coffee.

So anyway, shortly thereafter the TV and the power went blip and we were suddenly and irrovocably left in the inky black predawn darkness. I told my wife to get into the interior hallway and close all the doors.  I went to the front door and walked out on the porch (It’s something us rednecks do when we ain’t sayin’ “Here, hold my beer.”). Yeah, there was a little lightning, but it seemed quiet…..at first.

Only then did the tornado sirens begin wailing. We hear them test once a week, every week, but there’s no comparison when you know it’s the real thing. Kinda makes the hair crawl on your neck. The practice sirens remind me of sniper school back at Fort Bragg–no comparison to the real thing. Back in my railroading days, I once had to jump from a speeding locomotive when its brakes failed. Never since has there been a roller coaster or carinval ride that can increase my heart rate.

So, I’m on the porch, and a warm and somewhat pleasant wind is blowing in my face and I’m thinking WTF? This is pretty nice for January. The wind chimes are tinkling gently…but then from the somewhere down to the southwest I hear it. At first, it was distant. It was an ominous thundering roar, and it sounded like an F-4 Phantom fighter jet on continuous afterburner. It was a long way off, but enough to convince me standing on the front porch might not be the brightest thing I ever did. So, I joined Janet in the hallway. With pillows over our heads, we waited and she began talking, but I told her to wait! I thought I could hear it. Yes, even though we were now in the interior hallway, I could hear it. It was getting closer.

Within a minute the roaring thunder was upon us, that fast, the house literally quaked, our ears popped and loud thumps began coming from debris hitting the outside walls and roof. I was pretty certain we were about to view the night sky minus our roof. And that was when my dear wife said it. Yes, she really did.

“It sounds like a freight train,” she said.

I looked out from beneath my pillow at her.

“I can’t believe you really said that.”

“Well, it does,” she said.

I stood and tossed my pillow at her.

“Where are you going? You can’t go out there!”

“Listen,” I said.

The only remaining sound was the now fading roar of the tornado as it moved away to the northeast.

“It’s over.”

And it was…that fast.

I switched on my flashlight and went to take a look. As I went to the front door, I noticed one of the cats huddled on a dining room chair. She looked like she had been plugged into a wall socket.

“Buttercup?” I said.

She let out a long and pained, “MEEEOOOOOWWW.”

I opened the front door, but that was a ‘no-go.’ The topmost limbs of an oak tree, that only moments before had been sixty or seventy feet off the ground, were now blocking the door and porch, along with a pile of rocking chairs and such. The root-ball of the same tree had also torn a gaping hole in the driveway when it fell. A four by twelve foot section of asphault was gone.

Nothing but a mess.

After a few minutes checking things with the flashlight, I realized we had barely escaped a major disaster. The roof remained largely intact, although it appeared to have been ‘sand-blasted.’ We were unhurt and the critters, although somewhat frazzled, were all accounted for.

I checked on several neighbors and everyone was okay. In our front and back yards, at least four huge oaks, three of them at least four-feet in diameter, were down, along with a big elm and several mature cedars. The fences were gone. The ceiling fan on the back deck was stripped and what trees that were left were decorated for tornado season with strips of pink home insulation. Even my Jimmy Buffet, “It’s 5 o’clock Somewhere” sign was shattered.

It’s Five O’clock Somewhere…..

There’s a three-foot diameter oak tree about sixty-feet behind the house. Its trunk is twisted like a giant cork-screw. There is another that is at least four-feet in diameter that is snapped off thirty feet above the ground. I’ll be chain-sawing when the cows come in, but I absolutely refuse to whine. NO! No way. We’ve got neighbors in the area whose homes are flat as flitters.

Pink Insulation…the decoration for Tornado Season

I had two life-long friends, Ted Spence and Mike Thron, drive down from Memphis and after a day’s work clearing debris and puttin up temporatry fences, we didn’t put a dent in the damage, but we celeberated with a bottle of Evan Williams single barrel bourbon. I’m gonna buy a couple more chains for the saw and celebrate more in the coming weeks. There’s nothing like the adrenaline high of dodging a bullet.

  1. Raindrops Keep Falling on my head….Yea!! Leave a reply
  2. The Birdhouse Man and a Visit to North Carolina Leave a reply