Chest-Deep in Hogs and Florida Bucks With Derek Watson (Florida)
The citrus groves of central Florida roll out beneath the Dade City sky, tangled with palmetto thickets and framed by cypress swamps. Wild hogs run the rows like outlaws. Gators lurk in marshes just beyond the orange trees. And if you catch the right patch of moonlight, you might spot a flashlight bobbing through the dark—chasing dogs chasing something meaner. This is where Derek Watson grew up. And it’s here, between the hum of hurricane season and the holler of a baying cur dog, that his hunting story begins.
Product of His Environment
Derek was raised in a place where hunting wasn’t just tradition—it was the pulse of the community. Dade City might not show up on your deer destination map, but for Derek, it was the perfect classroom. Citrus groves doubled as hog highways. Cow pastures framed his early hunts. “I don’t think my life would’ve gone the same way if I’d been born in Boston or New York,” he said. It’s not that folks up there don’t hunt—but Florida molded him in a way that’s hard to replicate.
Roofing and Rut Maps
Today, Derek juggles roofing inspections with fatherhood, hustling through hurricane claims and commercial projects across the Florida peninsula. His work keeps him sky-high, whether on ladders or drones. But his passion lies closer to the ground. “You’d be surprised how often I find myself thinking about deer season while crawling through an attic,” he joked. Florida’s deer seasons sprawl from August to February, with rut peaks shifting dramatically across just a few counties. Derek’s mapped it all, hunted it all, and sees the chaos as part of the charm.
Late Nights, Big Hogs
His early years were dominated by hog dogs and swamp runs. “There was a time I was hog hunting six days a week,” Derek said. With a cur-dog mix named Leon and a crew of buddies—including the infamous Boots, a dog so relentless she wouldn’t come back until she had a boar caught—Derek made memories few hunters ever will. “You don’t forget the sound of a big hog breathing in the dark,” he said. “Sometimes there is no sound at all—and that’s when you know it’s serious.”
The Buck That Broke Him
Derek’s biggest deer didn’t come easy. A 151-inch Florida bruiser he called “Senior” gave him a shot—and Derek rushed it. “I hit him low, and when we jumped him 45 minutes later, I knew it wasn’t good.” What followed was a 26-hour rollercoaster of blood trails, chest-deep swamps, heartbreak, and finally redemption—when his best friend Bright made the finishing shot. “I probably wouldn’t be here telling this story if we hadn’t found that deer,” Derek admitted. “I went to a dark place. But that deer taught me more than any hunt ever has.”
Confidence Lost, Then Found
After that shot, Derek’s confidence crumbled. He missed turkeys. Questioned his rifle. Even sold his shotgun. “I put a new scope on my rifle and tried to get the train back on the tracks.” Slowly, it worked. His Matthews Z7 bow—still the same one he’s used for over a decade—helped rebuild his belief. And while he loves the chase of the rut, he’s learned that early season bowhunting offers its own magic. “Those bachelor bucks, they’re patternable. There’s a quiet confidence in bowhunting that rifles can’t give.”
Camps, Friendships, and First Chances
For all the solo moments on stand, Derek’s story is rooted in relationships. His best friend’s family introduced him to hunting. They let him hunt their ranch, gave him a seat at deer camp, and a community of mentors. “It’s because of them I found my passion,” he said. And even now, 20 years later, he’s still calling Bright after hunts to compare notes, swap strategies, and ask for advice. “Hunting’s personal, but it’s never meant to be lonely.”
Hard Lessons in Tree Stands
Derek’s got a few scars and a couple stories he calls “public safety messages.” Like the time he accidentally fired a .243 in his stand while flipping the safety on and off. Or the morning his climber slipped beneath him in the dark, and he dangled helplessly, trying to recover the platform without alerting the buddy hunting nearby. “He never saw it,” Derek laughed, “but I was sweating bullets—and not from the heat.”
One Hell of a Run
Whether it’s hog dogs or hurricane prep, roof inspections or rut predictions, Derek brings intensity to everything he touches. But what stands out isn’t just the hunts—it’s the humility. “I used to think deer liked it thick,” he said. “Now I think they just like to keep you guessing.” From bar-hogging in the orange groves to bowhunting Florida timber, Derek’s legacy isn’t about inches or trophies. It’s about stories that echo and friendships that last.
As he put it, “It’s not about how you kill a deer. It’s about the journey to get to that.”