It was a late November morning, with the chill of February in the air. I watched the sun rise as I had done a thousand times, but this morning would be different. I was photographing at Buffalo Lake National Wildlife Refuge, 25 miles Southwest of Amarillo. The refuge is made up of 7,664 acres seemingly untouched by time, free from game fences and deer feeders. Childhood memories of deer herds numbering in the hundreds call me back to the refuge every fall. What makes this region unlike the rest of Texas is the fact that trophy whitetails and mule deer share the same habitat. When I say trophy, I mean Panhandle bruisers that easily top the 300 pound mark. In 1999, my long time friend and fellow outdoor writer, Jim Steiert, photographed a legendary mule deer buck just outside of the refuge. This particular buck, later harvested by Jerry Curtis, ended up scoring 219 inches Boone and Crockett: making it the 5th largest non typical ever taken in Texas. Recollecting all of the trophies that have called the refuge home, I knew I was in the land of giants. Now, it was time to do what I do best. As the first light painted the land, I headed South to the hardwood creek bottoms. Once I reached the cover, I spotted muleys and whitetails alike. I was seeing numbers but the brutes that keep me up at night were nowhere to be found. The morning went on and I was starting to lose hope: When it happened! Like a single ray of light in the night sky, the sun gleamed off a massive pair of antlers. I knew instantly this was the largest whitetail I had ever seen. I made up my mind that, no matter the miles, I would come away with this beauty on my memory card. My first problem was the fact that he was about 3/4 of a mile away; and my second was that he was chasing does in the opposite direction. The two factors I had in my favor were the wind and his disregard for anything but a doe in heat. As I started my stalk, It seemed as if I was destined to beat this buck at his own game. I was getting awfully close to the tree line where he went in when I spotted a different buck. This was a nice eight pointer, and I was more than happy to snap some photos of him. I sat there and watched him for a couple of minutes when, like a receiver fleeing from a linebacker, he darted into the woods. Instinct took over and I immediately pivoted to my left. Running right at me was the alpha buck. This was the kind of whitetail that every hunter or photographer dreams about. His chest was bowed and his neck was massive. And then, like time had frozen the buck in place: he stopped in his tracks and posed for me. I raised my lense and gently pressed the shutter. I had done it. I had accomplished something that would forever stay with me. I knew at that point, this frigid November day had solidified my success as a whitetail photographer.