Ladies In The Outdoors, Kim Tackett, Texas

Kim Tackett, Texas

My name is Kim Tackett, and at 60 years old, my hunting journey looks a little different than most. I’m a Texas native who didn’t grow up in a hunting family and have been hunting for just over 25 years, but during that time it has grown into a true passion. My husband, Lee, and I share a deep love for the outdoors, spending our seasons deer and dove hunting - with a little helicopter hog hunting mixed in - and our off-season shooting competitive sporting clays. I’m passionate about wildlife management, ethical hunting, and sharing meaningful stories from the field, and the buck in my photo is truly the buck of a lifetime, with a story that remains one of my most meaningful and unforgettable memories. 

Every bowhunter knows the feeling - the long sits, the patience, the discipline to pass good deer while waiting for the deer. My husband, Lee, and I are fortunate to hunt a 14,800-acre low-fence, free-range lease managed under a strict 5.5-year-old-and-older program. It’s the kind of place where legends are grown, not rushed. I’d been hunting hard since the first of October, but nothing had stirred me enough to release an arrow - until a single game-camera photo changed everything. 

Lee was away on a fishing trip when he texted me, barely able to contain his excitement. We have a cellular game camera, and he had already seen the picture and texted me to ask if I was hunting the stand where the buck had shown up. Stuck in a popup blind elsewhere on the lease with no service, I finally drove down the road to load the photos - and my heart skipped. The buck I had marked as my target buck from the year before had been walking past the exact blind I’d hunted for days, unseen. That was all I needed. I canceled my four-hour drive home and committed to staying. Some opportunities don’t knock twice. 

That evening, young bucks filtered in, followed by a dominant 4.5-year-old - king of the area. When he suddenly locked onto a mowed path, hesitated, and bolted, I knew what was coming. Seconds later, the big boy crested the hill. I drew once and got busted by a young, future trophy buck. I drew again - and chaos followed. A jump, a spook, and just like that, he vanished. I went back to the lodge disappointed but certain: this buck was real, mature, and special. 

The next encounter came at 21 yards. Drawing my newly increased 50-pound bow from a leaned position to avoid being spotted wasn’t easy, but adrenaline carried me through. He stared straight through me, our eyes locked, as another buck drifted in and distracted him just enough. With no time left, I committed to a 

quartering shot. The pin settled. The arrow flew. The sound - that unmistakable thump - told me everything. I watched him wobble into the brush and disappear. 

After an agonizing wait and a tense track with our game manager, Billy, we found him. Relief washed over me. Back at headquarters, the tape told the rest of the story: 174 4/8 inches - a mature 5.5-year-old taken with a bow. When I called Lee, his excitement matched my own. This wasn’t just a trophy; it was the reward for patience, trust in management, and a moment every bowhunter dreams of. I thank God for the meat in the freezer and a buck on the wall that I will always remember as my buck of a lifetime.

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