After a year of anticipation, it was finally legal to attempt to put a mule deer in the freezer and in an effort to balance years of intensive fishing training and free gear, I invited my life coach on his first mule deer hunt. The plan was to meet Friday afternoon at the property so that I could provide a more extensive tour while we checked the game cameras. Traffic had other ideas, hours of other ideas... So it was quickly time to lay down and think about sleeping. Like the wise man he is, Jeremy slept in a warm hotel bed while I was realizing truck camping in mid-October could be a little chilly. It took doubled up socks, pants, hoody, beanie, and the mummy bag pulled tight to achieve a habitable temperature. On the plus side I was already dressed up for the big day!
Day 1: All quiet, too quiet
Started things out easy with a short walk onto a sharp, little ridge that gave us nice views across the way to some deer/elk highways. Just a couple weeks before, Lumpy and one of his smaller buddies were spotted on one of these lanes in daylight. Small digression - Lumpy is a big deer but Jeremy and I were both in agreement that he didn't look appetizing or safe to eat. I haven't seen him since this picture so somebody might have got antler fever or opted to perform some accelerated natural selection.
We probably lasted 3-4 hours before it was too chilly to sit still. I'm so far behind in my reporting that I cannot even remember what we got up to next but eventually I sent Jeremy to try a loop through the National Forest while I headed to cell service to try a video chat with the kiddo.
For the evening we regrouped and tried the top road with a nice overlook for watching the main "meadow". Trail cam evidence revealed a trespasser had her dogs running loose at lunch time but at the time we didn't realize our odds had taken a hit. As darkness fell, Jeremy was probably wondering what the point of spending a whole day in the woods is good for if you don't see a single animal. Felt pretty normal for me.
Day 2: The Sadness
New day, renewed optimism. Clouds and a drizzle had snuck in overnight and there was hope the deer would have to wait for daylight to get some chow. We went back to the same ridge and spent a couple more hours watching our respective zones. I got a little antsy and crept in front of my rocks to peek into Jeremy's zone. Immediately, I was struck by the brilliant rump of a large mule deer browsing contently across the way. I didn't take time to verify horns but instead I tried to be stealthy as I made my way to Jeremy. Instead I slipped on a rock and cracked my knee, gaining a bone bruise that would still be periodically checking in on me for the next couple weeks. That racket clued in Jeremy and he knew from the size of my eyes that he should take a look behind him.
From there things proceeded just like the textbook would recommend. Jeremy had yardage from his perch of 300 yards and we both were confident that we were looking at a buck that was at least a 3x3, likely at least a 3x4. Given the steep drainage between us, there was no hope of stalking significantly closer. While Jeremy kept the crosshairs on him, I moved down the ridge to a little opening that got us 10 yards closer and a flatter shot. Even at that distance and through the trees, the buck picked up my move and froze broadside. As younger bucks are, he was curious enough to stand there while Jeremy moved and got set up a second time. To perfect the experience, a bull elk bugled from behind us. Never having experienced this kind of time between spot and shot, it felt luxurious. The buck was so curious that after the first shot, he was still standing there, staring us down. Jeremy's second shot was a hit that looked pretty good from afar but the buck was moving slowly out of sight and a third, mercy shot didn't appear to land.
At that point we were feeling pretty good about that deer lying just on the other side of the hill and we settled down for what is always the longest hour of waiting, ever. Our first clue that things were not as they seemed was no clear indication of where the buck had been standing when he was hit. Beyond one small speck of blood we had nothing to go on but hoping some fresher looking tracks could belong to our target. Hours of searching passed before Jeremy returned to the original location and spotted a small piece of bone. That got us on a very light blood trail that only lasted about 50 yards and took us back to the left or right dilemma we had been trying to work out for hours. So passed Sunday in ever wider loops into the trees to see if he had bedded down. It wasn't until getting home and doing more research that I have the confidence to say he was likely hit low on the front leg and there was no chance of us recovering him...
Day 3: Success!
Monday we switched up the morning plan. Unsure of the issue with yesterday's shots, Jeremy swapped out his 6.5 Grendel for a cannon that his friend had loaned him. We also switched to a slow walk up the main road before looping back to the old blood trail and trying to pick it up again on the outside chance that he might not have headed straight into the trees. Didn't see any sign of the buck or any other deer and it was almost lunch time.
At that point, we assumed the deer had cleared out and we stomped through a little brush to check my favorite elk camera. While holding the camera and mid SD-card swap I see Jeremy jerk up his rifle and open fire at close range. A buck had bolted out of his bed only 20 yards in front of Jeremy. It took a little more work to make sure he had passed but Jeremy had his first mule deer! At first we both harbored hope that he was Sunday's buck given how close he let us get but we didn't see any evidence to back up that theory.
Day 3: Success!
Monday we switched up the morning plan. Unsure of the issue with yesterday's shots, Jeremy swapped out his 6.5 Grendel for a cannon that his friend had loaned him. We also switched to a slow walk up the main road before looping back to the old blood trail and trying to pick it up again on the outside chance that he might not have headed straight into the trees. Didn't see any sign of the buck or any other deer and it was almost lunch time.
A couple more hours of knife work and we had the meat in coolers. To help with the adrenaline, I borrowed Jeremy's machete and got to work on thinning trees while Jeremy took a drive to stock up on ice and get more familiar with the area. An eternal optimist (behind the exterior of a crotchety old man) I worked some lanes I thought Sunday's buck might have crossed but still no new sign.
For that evening we split up with me taking the high road and Jeremy on over watch of the lower clearings. I ended up flushing the two most naive trespassers ever. We chatted a little bit and I sent the kids on their way. With that kind of traffic, I wasn't feeling very high on my spot and had already started back when Jeremy rang me on the radio with a buck spotted. That got me headed downhill fast and this is when the nice kids revealed they were newbies as they pulled up in their rig to trade scouting reports as I was loading into the truck (by far my favorite trespassers). I drove straight up to Jeremy's perch with only about 20 mins of shooting light left. At about 600 yards, I would not be attempting a shot and there didn't feel like a feasible way to stalk the deer while also sprinting down through thick brush so we headed to dinner hoping he would hang around for our last day.
Day 4: Tuesday?
All I can remember from Tuesday is the swarm of ravens on the deer gut pile and I didn't take any pictures so we are all released from this epic gab fest! Four days of hunting with only three deer spotted was not what I had in mind for our hunt but since they were all legal bucks we were very lucky and I was counting down the hours till I could return to hunt the last two days of the season. I'll leave you with a couple more pictures of deer that I knew were around recently but were too smart for me:
