BUCK FEVER, BETTER BUCK NEXT TIME!

Kwe Kwe! Hello my brothers and sisters.

My name is Pat Gatz, known in the hunting world as Chief Little Eagle. I'm a proud Algonquin First Nation native, born and raised in the raw, untouched beauty of Northern Ontario—where the forests are dense, the lakes run for miles, and the wilderness speaks if you’re quiet enough to listen.

This is the story of a hunt that changed me. A story not just about deer—but about humility, brotherhood, tradition, and the pulse of life itself. I want to begin by thanking Canada in the Rough, and the Beasley brothers—Keith, Paul, and Kevin—for Ontario Monster Whitetails magazine. I’m truly honored to share this wild ride with my fellow hunters and huntresses.

I owe everything to the ones who started me on this path. My father, who gifted me my first pellet gun at age six—that’s where the spark was lit. And to my best friend since I was three years old, A.J. Saul (a.k.a. Moose Whisperer), and his legendary brother Byron Saul (a.k.a. Byron the Great) of Saul Outfitters, who mentored me and passed down generations of wisdom. These brothers from another mother helped shape the hunter I am today. Chi-Miigwetch!

As a firefighter, author, father of three beautiful daughters, and owner of Hunting for Greatness – The Native Ways Inc., I live and breathe the land. My 100-acre retreat, “Gatzville Estates,” is not just home—it’s a legacy. I’ve published two books: The Simple Hunting Guide and Eat My Meat, teaching beginners how to track, scout, and field dress with skill and respect.

But nothing prepared me for the Whitetail.

The Hunt Begins

In 2021, I set off to Rainy River, Ontario (WMU 10) for my first serious Whitetail season. But fate had other plans. I broke my foot before I even reached camp. My firefighting instincts kicked in—I wrapped it tight and hobbled on. Pain was constant, stealth was impossible, and needless to say, I didn't bring home a deer that year. But I didn’t give up. I spent the next year learning, preparing.

2022 came fast. I had just finished a wild boar hunt in Corsica—yes, with a compound bow, and yes, they called me the “Crazy Canadian” for it! But back home, it was Whitetail time. November 17, I made the 15-hour haul back to Rainy River. I was ready.

November 18–20: Buck Fever and Bone-Chilling Cold

The first few days were brutal. Negative 18 to 24 degrees Celsius. Ten-hour sits in the blind. Muscles locking, mind racing. Day two nearly cost me my life. Hypothermia set in. As a firefighter, I recognized the signs and made it back to camp just in time. Remember this: no hunt is worth your life. Mother Nature is not to be taken lightly.

By day three, I was drained. The cold, the silence, the near-death moment... it had worn me down. I told Byron I was ready to pack it in.

November 21: Buck Fever Strikes

Morning came. Byron spotted a big buck in the field. I bolted—barefoot, coatless, buck fevering HARD. I reached the fence, lined up the shot, scope at 5x magnification, adrenaline flooding my veins... and I missed.

No blood. No sign. Nothing but the sting of humility. I’ve hunted since I was six. But in that moment, I felt like a rookie. Byron laughed with the understanding only a seasoned hunter has—he’s missed too. We regrouped.

Later that day, he sent me out for one last sit.

The Redemption Shot

At 4:40 PM, a buck stepped into the clearing—broadside, beautiful, 180 yards out. This time I didn’t let buck fever win. I lined up my Remington 7600 .30-06, placed the crosshairs just behind the shoulder, and fired.

He ran.

I thought I missed. My heart sank.

Byron showed up. I gave him the walk of shame. Then—“This blood!” he said, smiling. I could’ve wept. We followed the trail 80 yards. There he was—my Northwestern Ontario Dakota 10-point Monster Buck. The same buck from that morning. He gave me a second chance.

Lessons from the Land

Buck fever is real. Even the best get it. What matters is what you do after.

That moment reminded me: patience, persistence, and humility are the heart of the hunt. Respect the land. Learn its rhythms. Leave the does alone—build the herd, and the monsters will follow. They don’t get big by being dumb.

If you're chasing your Ontario Monster Buck, don’t quit. Hunt the rut. Trust the process. And when that moment comes—breathe deep, aim true, and praise the Creator.

I look forward to hearing your stories, brothers and sisters.
Stay safe, hunt with honor, and as always—Praise the Lord and God Bless.

—Chief Little Eagle
🦅 www.chieflittleeagle.com