There will be others, but there can only be one first.
As a big game hunter there are memories associated with every set of horns on the wall. A simple glance at one of those antler sets immediately stirs up memories of days gone by. You can go back in time instantly in your mind and remember details about that hunt with uncanny accuracy. The weather, the location, the shot placement, and the people who may have been there with you. They fall into place in your mind’s eye like it happened yesterday. Each one represents a different adventure or experience that will never be replicated. You will find yourself looking at those wall ornaments and realize how fortunate you were to have the opportunity to create such memories. As you reminisce about the countless stories hidden amongst these trophies; you realize there is only one story that was the first.
Getting ready for our trip to Idaho this year felt similar in many ways to all other hunts over the years. There was the normal amount of preparation, planning, and organizing to get things lined up prior to departure. We practiced shooting, we double checked our gear and finalized our travel plans to get us to our destination. What did separate this year from other years, was the fact that my daughter had a mule deer tag of her own tucked into her pocket. Our mission was simple; get her an opportunity to take her first buck.
After arriving in our unit and setting up camp we sat down to game plan for the upcoming week. We would be hunting the unit differently this year. Kenny and Jeff would be on the motorcycles travelling further back into the hills on the designated single track trails, covering the key elevations where we have found success in the past. Myself, my dad, and Taylor would be tackling the unit on foot at various elevations and checking out new spots without the aid of the two wheeled horses. With snow in the forecast, we were confident that between the 2 groups we would be able to pin down where the deer were congregating and then we could all focus our efforts into that area.
Day one was spent walking straight out of camp and making an 1,100’ elevation gain towards a peak overlooking some new country we had not seen before. We saw very little deer sign and in fact did not spot a single deer. Deciding we needed to move up to some higher country we decided to hunt a different area further up in the mountains on day 2. Day 2 brought in the cold front we were expecting and dropped a couple feet of snow in the higher elevations and about 6” where we were at. We hiked a couple miles from the road during the storm to try and find a great glassing point we had located on the maps. The storm had better ideas, and we were never able to see much as the snow flurries prevented us from getting a look at anything. Again, we saw zero deer and very little sign. Day 3 was upon us. The temperature was 19 degrees, and the skies were clear. The storm had passed, and we decided to keep going further up the mountains in elevation. Upon reaching the basin we wanted to check out we were able to locate a group of doe’s and two 3 point bucks bedded across the canyon from where we were. We closed the distance from 1600 yards to about 900 yards, but that was as close to them as we could get without dropping into a huge canyon and crossing to the other side. With the snow and ice on the ground, we decided that making that move was not a wise decision. We left the bucks bedded on the adjacent hillside and made plans for day 4.
After talking with Kenny and Jeff about their first 3 days we decided we needed to get into the country they had been hunting. They were seeing 20-40 deer a day with some small bucks mixed in with the doe’s. The only problem was that they were riding in 6-7 miles on the motorcycle and then hunting from there. We had thought about this possibility, so Kenny brought along his electric bike for Taylor to ride. We knew she would be able to ride a couple miles up the trail before the trail turns from novice to expert. It was time for Taylor to put her helmet on.
Day 4 started at first light with Taylor sitting atop the electric bike at the trailhead. My dad and I were riding motorcycles in front of and behind her, keeping her sandwiched in between us. After a couple minor delays from Taylor wanting to get a closer inspection of the ground, we reached our designated parking spot. We started to make our trek towards a glassing knob where we would spend the day looking over multiple canyons and drainages. As we side- hilled across the face of a huge open hillside we sat down to take a break. I told Taylor we had a decision to make. We could continue towards the pre-determined glassing spot or……. make a brutal 1,700’ vertical climb up into country where we had killed deer before. She only asked one question; “Where will I have a better chance of finding a buck”? I told her we need to make the climb. It took us nearly 3 hours to traverse the nearly vertical accent to reach the spine on top of the mountain. We hunted on top for the remainder of the day and found 21 deer, however the only buck we found was a small spike. We hiked 7 miles that day and she never once complained as we got our butts kicked for the 4th day in a row. As we made our way down the mountain that evening, I knew 2 things for certain. Taylor was going to kill a deer on this trip, and we were going to put every ounce of effort into making it happen for her.
Day 5 started at the trailhead again at daybreak. The plan was to take the bikes in again. We would stop before the trail got too difficult to navigate on two wheels and set out on foot up the single track in the bottom of the canyon. We strapped on our packs and began the 2.5 mile trek up the canyon to reach the basins we wanted to glass from the bottom. After working our way up the canyon and glassing multiple areas on the way, we reached the last canyon we wanted to get to. We had seen zero deer on the way up the canyon. We had put in nearly 30 miles on foot already and gained and dropped nearly 6,000’ of elevation. I didn’t want to push Taylor much more this day even though I’m sure she could have handled it. We climbed a little way up the adjacent hill to get a better vantage into the canyons and put the binoculars to work. Taylor immediately got comfortable in the dirt and checked the inside of her eyelids to make sure they were good to go…….
11 am: Me: “I see 2 doe’s feeding in that orange brush by themselves, would be awesome if a buck was bedded in there”.
Dad: “yeah, I see them also, let’s keep tabs on them”
Taylor “ZZZZZZZ”.
Noon: Me: “I can’t see those doe’s anymore, must have bedded down for the day”.
Dad: “Can’t see them either, I keep checking in on them though…….. Wait a minute I just saw a horn flash in the sun”
Taylor: “ZZZZZZZZZ”
I swivel the spotting scope over to that drainage and catch a quick glimpse of the buck as he stood up to stretch and settle back down into another bed for the afternoon. He was maybe standing for 60 seconds before he disappeared back into the brush pile he was sleeping in. I saw enough to know that this buck was worth pursuing and my dad and I quickly came up with a game plan to get in closer and try to get a shot. As the crow flies, we were currently 850 yards from the deer. With the prevailing wind direction, we knew we would have to travel further up canyon and climb back up over an extremely steep hill covered in brush to get within striking distance. We woke Taylor up and told her we found a buck. She wanted to look at him before we started our stalk, but he was hidden from view due to the brush. Again, she only asked one question’ “Is he bigger than Kaleb’s (her brother) first buck”? The answer was yes, and off we went.
The stalk took us about 2 hours to get into position. The brush covered hillside we had to approach over was nothing short of terrible. It was even steeper and thicker than we had anticipated, and with the 3 of us making our way through, and often OVER the brush we were making a ton of noise. I felt the wind swirl across my neck multiple times carrying our scent directly towards the bedded deer’s position. We were finally reaching the crest of the ridge where we should have a good position overlooking the draw he was bedded in. My dad and I gave each other one of those looks that symbolized we were not very confident that the buck would still be there. None the less, we dropped our packs and had a quick meeting with Taylor. I told her that we are going to crawl up to a rock pile about 15 yards away and get set up with the rifle. We accomplish our military crawl and get to the designated rock pile. I set the rifle up on the bi-pod and switched positions with her so she could get behind the gun and I could get behind the binoculars to try and relocate our target. All was good now except the deer are nowhere to be seen…………
My dad finishes his crawl towards our position and is about 5 yards away from us slightly up the hill. We were 275 yards away from the brush pile for 5 minutes and had not seen the buck or the 2 doe’s. I start to worry that we have blown these deer out; when we were saved by the sunlight again! My dad spotted a shiny antler hidden in the brush beneath a small pine tree about 15 yards from where we had left him a couple hours ago. Now this is where I would like to tell you that a couple of seasoned hunters like myself and my dad were completely calm and under control and Taylor was a ball of nerves and filled with anxiety. That would be a lie. I was freaking out. I couldn’t find the buck due to the angle we were at, and my dad and I were yelling at each other in whispers trying to get the buck located. At one point my dad tells me he is underneath the small pine tree. (There are 6 small pine trees circling this draw near the brush pile).
Me: “left side, right side, top, or bottom of the draw”?
Dad: “West”.
Me: I yelled in a whisper “We are not doing that kind of F@#&*%$ directions right now”
Dad: Left
Me: OK got him
Taylor: “When do you want me to shoot him. He’s standing up”
While my dad and I are acting like a couple of rookies, Taylor has been laying calmly next to me for this circus and not only has located the buck but has the crosshairs settled on his vitals as he is now wandering around the brush pile. I refocus my emotions externally and try to suppress my inner panic attack and start talking her though the shot.
Me: “We are going to wait until he is broadside and clear of all the brush”.
Taylor: “Got it”.
Me: “If you are still on him, shoot him when he stops by that patch of snow”.
Taylor: “Got it. Are you going to tell me when to shoot exactly”?
Me: “Yes. Ok he is gonna stop. Shoot him now”.
The buck’s shoulder shuddered; he raised up on his hind legs from the impact of the shot a split second before the rifle report echoed through the canyon. He spun around on his hind legs and crashed motionless to the ground. There was never a moment on this hunt where I doubted Taylor’s resolve, commitment, or capability of fulfilling her end of the deal by making the shot count when she was given the opportunity. The sense of relief, joy, and pride I felt after the buck dropped was reciprocated in an ear to ear grin on Taylors face as we gave each other a huge hug. Taylor led us across the canyon as we made our way over to the deer and began the process of taking pictures, boning out the meat, and caping out the buck.
There are so few people who get the opportunity to have this quality time shared in the outdoors. The older I get, the more I do not take a single moment like this for granted. Whether it’s between a father and daughter; grandpa and granddaughter, or simply amongst friends, these memories are truly special. There is no doubt in my mind that there will be more adventures in our future chasing big game animals across the west. There is also no doubt that years from now Taylor will look up at that buck on her wall and know one thing. There have been others but there will never be another first.
