When you reflect upon a past hunt there is always a part of the experience that in the moment seemed inconsequential, but in fact turned out to be the most important part of the trip. During a hunt you are constantly making decisions in the moment that steer the direction of the day. Which ridge should I hike up? What time should I be at my glassing spot? How long should I stay here until I should move? As a hunter you make these decisions all the time and the consequences of those decisions play out in the hours or days that follow. At the same time, you are making those decisions there are other variables that come into play based on those choices. Maybe you walked too far up the chosen ridge in the dark and passed up the pre-selected glassing spot. Maybe you didn’t leave early enough in the morning and another hunter beat you to the trailhead you wanted to take. Maybe you left your gun in camp………………..
My Dad and I finished unloading the motorcycles and were putting our packs on our back to begin the 45 minute trek up the dark canyon, when I realized I may have forgotten something very important. “Hey Dad, did you take my gun out of the truck already?”, (I asked knowing full well that the answer was going to be NO). “You didn’t you leave your gun in the trailer did you?”, my reply to him probably had more 4 letter words than necessary, but ultimately the answer was yes. I had left my gun back at the trailer which was about 25 minutes away. He stayed with the bikes and gear as I hopped in the truck and started the 50 minute detour to retrieve my rifle. I finally complete the task and we ride up the canyon in the now daylight to begin our hunt. There is a mantra/ code amongst the group of guys I hunt with. After an unfortunate event or unforeseen delay occurs during the hunt; we never admit that we made a mistake. That would be crazy. We didn’t screw up; we were just getting the timing right…...
After we got up the canyon, my Dad and I split up as previously planned. He would go to the Southern rim of the basin, and I would head to a glassing knob on the Northern rim. We would spend the morning separately glassing underneath one another hoping to find a good buck. As I parked the motorcycle to begin my hike, I noticed that unfortunately there was another hunter who had the same plan as me. I was bummed. In my head I could just see him already sitting in my spot probably staring at a buck that had emerged right at daylight. Hunting public land is always a crapshoot. You simply never know when a fellow hunter is on the same path as you. I followed his boot prints along the game trail as I ascended the hill towards my destination. As I veered off the trail to check out the occupancy of my spot, I noticed it was empty. I walked back to the trail and watched his tracks disappear over the next ridge in my binoculars.
As I settled in behind the glass, deer began to pop up in my field of vision throughout the basin. Groups of doe’s and fawns were scattered around, but as I had suspected there were no bucks up feeding still. I had arrived too late to get an opportunity to find a buck before the rays of sunlight put him into his bed for the day. Kicking myself still for forgetting my gun, I spun around to glass the one canyon that was behind me. I immediately see a large bodied deer still feeding on the open hillside. Probably a big old doe, I say to myself before lifting the binos to my face…………
Now don’t get me wrong, I always anticipate finding a big buck. In fact, I expect to find a big buck on every hunt. That expectation has motivated me to get up very early time after time and hike countless miles over the years. This hunt was no different than all the hunts before it, however this time I actually found one. As my hands involuntarily began to shake a little bit, I fully realize that the big bodied deer feeding on the open hillside at 10:00 o’clock in the morning was in fact a great buck. I watched him feed into a brush pile at 10:30 am and saw him settle into his bed for the rest of the day. After calming my nerves, I planned to circle around the rim of the basin and come over on top of him at about 200-250 yards. As I made my way up the hill and started gaining some elevation, I began to realize that my original plan was not going to work. If I were to make it to the spot above him, I would probably not be able to see him where he was laying. As I sat there by myself contemplating a new approach; here came the horses and mules.
Out of the next saddle in front of me trotted out 2 horses and 2 mules. With bridles on and a lather worked up these horses were cruising down the same path I was taking, and they were not being as quiet and stealthy as I was! Some hunters must have lost these guys and they were on their way back down to the trailhead. I immediately turn my attention back to the buck who is about 600 yards away at this point and he is staring directly at me and my new buddies. The equine parade quickly passes me by in a mini dust storm and now that buck’s attention is solely focused on my direction. The brush is too thick to traverse off the side of the game trail, so I continue up the ridge to get back out of sight. As I protect myself from the buck’s stares, I notice a small outcropping of rocks out along an adjacent hillside which would appear to put me about 400 yards from the bedded buck. Now re-energized, I believe I can make it to that rock pile without giving the buck an opportunity to see me. I let the buck calm down for about 20 minutes after the horses went by and began my approach.
I dropped my pack off behind a small knoll about 100 yards behind my intended rock pile. Taking only my essentials the rest of the way, I made it to the rock pile undetected and quickly put my rangefinder on the still bedded buck. 425 yards and laying perfectly broadside to me. I kneel and get my gun set up over a rock in front of me and was able to lock in my rear elbow on a rock behind me. I get him located in the crosshairs and feel like I am shooting off a range bench. I uncoil from my shooting position and relax for a minute. It is now a little after noon and judging by the shadows there is no reason for this buck to stand up for the rest of the day. I have only shot a couple deer in their beds and both of those were within 200 yards. I will typically wait hours if needed until they stand up and offer a standing broadside view before taking the shot. For whatever reason, I decide that my shooting rest is great, and I am going to shoot him where he lays. Surprisingly, I am calm as I insert some ear plugs and settle the crosshairs back on him. I squeeze the trigger and feel great about the shot.
Anticipating the distinct sight and sound of a direct hit on the buck, I am instead greeted by the acoustics of the rock pile amphitheater I had settled into. The sound was deafening, even with earplugs in, it sounded like I crawled into a concrete box and detonated a bomb. The muzzle break on my gun does wonders for recoil, but unfortunately does nothing to suppress sound. I do not see the buck anymore and I certainly do not hear anything but the ringing in my ears. A couple does are standing up and are not leaving but rather staring into the brush where my buck was previously laying. Good sign I guess, but without anybody spotting for me on the shot, I can only hope my shot was true. After about 25-30 minutes of watching the area, I am confident he is still in there and I decide to go back and get my full pack. I wanted to get my spotting scope on the area and really pick apart the brush pile before moving any closer. As I am setting up my spotting scope to re-focus on that area, I hear some loud crashing in the brush pile he was in. Thankfully, my hearing had returned enough, and I was able to pick him up as he was crawling/ falling down the slope in the brush. I could tell at this point that he was hit hard but was obviously still mobile. Getting back behind the gun I know where he is, but do not have a shot through the brush. If I dropped down any lower on the mountain, I would not be able to see him, so instead I waited for him to move enough in the brush pile to get another shot. His head and chest finally appear through the scope, and at 385 yards I squeeze off the second shot. Again, my ears are assaulted, but he immediately dropped out of sight. I watched the brush pile for another 15 minutes and nothing had moved a muscle in that time. I decided to pack up my gear and make my way over to where he was.
My dad had been able to see me perched in the rock pile, but from his angle but was unable to see the bedded buck at all. He had started the long trek across the basin after the first shot echoed across the canyon but was still a ways out from getting there. I radioed him that I thought the deer was down and I was headed into the canyon. After practically sliding down the hill side and crossing another ridge I was finally able to see him piled up in the thicket of brush. I dropped my pack and stared at him for quite some time and waited for my Dad to arrive. I knew this was my biggest buck to date and felt extremely fortunate to have had the opportunity to harvest him. We spent the next couple of hours really enjoying the moment and taking our time with the process. After caping him out and de-boning the meat, we decided to take out the cape and horns along with a little meat that afternoon and return the following morning to retrieve the rest. We hiked out of the canyon with a small amount of daylight left and made it back to the truck and trailhead about 8:30 that night.
At the end of a successful hunt you will reflect upon the memories and moments within that story countless times. Invariably you will have made the correct choices on your hunting area, your time of arrival, the ridge you chose to walk up and your ability to find and harvest an animal. Whether those choices seemed correct at the time or if those unexpected variables that arose screwed up your original plan does not really matter after the fact. The only thing that truly mattered in the end was that you got your timing right………………..
My Dad and I finished unloading the motorcycles and were putting our packs on our back to begin the 45 minute trek up the dark canyon, when I realized I may have forgotten something very important. “Hey Dad, did you take my gun out of the truck already?”, (I asked knowing full well that the answer was going to be NO). “You didn’t you leave your gun in the trailer did you?”, my reply to him probably had more 4 letter words than necessary, but ultimately the answer was yes. I had left my gun back at the trailer which was about 25 minutes away. He stayed with the bikes and gear as I hopped in the truck and started the 50 minute detour to retrieve my rifle. I finally complete the task and we ride up the canyon in the now daylight to begin our hunt. There is a mantra/ code amongst the group of guys I hunt with. After an unfortunate event or unforeseen delay occurs during the hunt; we never admit that we made a mistake. That would be crazy. We didn’t screw up; we were just getting the timing right…...
After we got up the canyon, my Dad and I split up as previously planned. He would go to the Southern rim of the basin, and I would head to a glassing knob on the Northern rim. We would spend the morning separately glassing underneath one another hoping to find a good buck. As I parked the motorcycle to begin my hike, I noticed that unfortunately there was another hunter who had the same plan as me. I was bummed. In my head I could just see him already sitting in my spot probably staring at a buck that had emerged right at daylight. Hunting public land is always a crapshoot. You simply never know when a fellow hunter is on the same path as you. I followed his boot prints along the game trail as I ascended the hill towards my destination. As I veered off the trail to check out the occupancy of my spot, I noticed it was empty. I walked back to the trail and watched his tracks disappear over the next ridge in my binoculars.
As I settled in behind the glass, deer began to pop up in my field of vision throughout the basin. Groups of doe’s and fawns were scattered around, but as I had suspected there were no bucks up feeding still. I had arrived too late to get an opportunity to find a buck before the rays of sunlight put him into his bed for the day. Kicking myself still for forgetting my gun, I spun around to glass the one canyon that was behind me. I immediately see a large bodied deer still feeding on the open hillside. Probably a big old doe, I say to myself before lifting the binos to my face…………
Now don’t get me wrong, I always anticipate finding a big buck. In fact, I expect to find a big buck on every hunt. That expectation has motivated me to get up very early time after time and hike countless miles over the years. This hunt was no different than all the hunts before it, however this time I actually found one. As my hands involuntarily began to shake a little bit, I fully realize that the big bodied deer feeding on the open hillside at 10:00 o’clock in the morning was in fact a great buck. I watched him feed into a brush pile at 10:30 am and saw him settle into his bed for the rest of the day. After calming my nerves, I planned to circle around the rim of the basin and come over on top of him at about 200-250 yards. As I made my way up the hill and started gaining some elevation, I began to realize that my original plan was not going to work. If I were to make it to the spot above him, I would probably not be able to see him where he was laying. As I sat there by myself contemplating a new approach; here came the horses and mules.
Out of the next saddle in front of me trotted out 2 horses and 2 mules. With bridles on and a lather worked up these horses were cruising down the same path I was taking, and they were not being as quiet and stealthy as I was! Some hunters must have lost these guys and they were on their way back down to the trailhead. I immediately turn my attention back to the buck who is about 600 yards away at this point and he is staring directly at me and my new buddies. The equine parade quickly passes me by in a mini dust storm and now that buck’s attention is solely focused on my direction. The brush is too thick to traverse off the side of the game trail, so I continue up the ridge to get back out of sight. As I protect myself from the buck’s stares, I notice a small outcropping of rocks out along an adjacent hillside which would appear to put me about 400 yards from the bedded buck. Now re-energized, I believe I can make it to that rock pile without giving the buck an opportunity to see me. I let the buck calm down for about 20 minutes after the horses went by and began my approach.
I dropped my pack off behind a small knoll about 100 yards behind my intended rock pile. Taking only my essentials the rest of the way, I made it to the rock pile undetected and quickly put my rangefinder on the still bedded buck. 425 yards and laying perfectly broadside to me. I kneel and get my gun set up over a rock in front of me and was able to lock in my rear elbow on a rock behind me. I get him located in the crosshairs and feel like I am shooting off a range bench. I uncoil from my shooting position and relax for a minute. It is now a little after noon and judging by the shadows there is no reason for this buck to stand up for the rest of the day. I have only shot a couple deer in their beds and both of those were within 200 yards. I will typically wait hours if needed until they stand up and offer a standing broadside view before taking the shot. For whatever reason, I decide that my shooting rest is great, and I am going to shoot him where he lays. Surprisingly, I am calm as I insert some ear plugs and settle the crosshairs back on him. I squeeze the trigger and feel great about the shot.
Anticipating the distinct sight and sound of a direct hit on the buck, I am instead greeted by the acoustics of the rock pile amphitheater I had settled into. The sound was deafening, even with earplugs in, it sounded like I crawled into a concrete box and detonated a bomb. The muzzle break on my gun does wonders for recoil, but unfortunately does nothing to suppress sound. I do not see the buck anymore and I certainly do not hear anything but the ringing in my ears. A couple does are standing up and are not leaving but rather staring into the brush where my buck was previously laying. Good sign I guess, but without anybody spotting for me on the shot, I can only hope my shot was true. After about 25-30 minutes of watching the area, I am confident he is still in there and I decide to go back and get my full pack. I wanted to get my spotting scope on the area and really pick apart the brush pile before moving any closer. As I am setting up my spotting scope to re-focus on that area, I hear some loud crashing in the brush pile he was in. Thankfully, my hearing had returned enough, and I was able to pick him up as he was crawling/ falling down the slope in the brush. I could tell at this point that he was hit hard but was obviously still mobile. Getting back behind the gun I know where he is, but do not have a shot through the brush. If I dropped down any lower on the mountain, I would not be able to see him, so instead I waited for him to move enough in the brush pile to get another shot. His head and chest finally appear through the scope, and at 385 yards I squeeze off the second shot. Again, my ears are assaulted, but he immediately dropped out of sight. I watched the brush pile for another 15 minutes and nothing had moved a muscle in that time. I decided to pack up my gear and make my way over to where he was.
My dad had been able to see me perched in the rock pile, but from his angle but was unable to see the bedded buck at all. He had started the long trek across the basin after the first shot echoed across the canyon but was still a ways out from getting there. I radioed him that I thought the deer was down and I was headed into the canyon. After practically sliding down the hill side and crossing another ridge I was finally able to see him piled up in the thicket of brush. I dropped my pack and stared at him for quite some time and waited for my Dad to arrive. I knew this was my biggest buck to date and felt extremely fortunate to have had the opportunity to harvest him. We spent the next couple of hours really enjoying the moment and taking our time with the process. After caping him out and de-boning the meat, we decided to take out the cape and horns along with a little meat that afternoon and return the following morning to retrieve the rest. We hiked out of the canyon with a small amount of daylight left and made it back to the truck and trailhead about 8:30 that night.
At the end of a successful hunt you will reflect upon the memories and moments within that story countless times. Invariably you will have made the correct choices on your hunting area, your time of arrival, the ridge you chose to walk up and your ability to find and harvest an animal. Whether those choices seemed correct at the time or if those unexpected variables that arose screwed up your original plan does not really matter after the fact. The only thing that truly mattered in the end was that you got your timing right………………..
