The morning started a little slow, as we only saw four deer including a small spike buck. By about 9:30, Russ had Dan and I walk down a series of ridges, flanking a deep draw to a meeting point about a mile and a half away. We had spotted a few doe 700-800 yards down into the draw, and were hoping to jump a buck.
Sure enough, I first saw 8 deer, including a couple small spikes. Then, as I crested a ridge top and started my descent, I saw 15 deer bolt from my right to left about 500 yards down the ridge. Without the aid of optics, I could clearly see a good, tall, many pointed muley in the bunch. I quickly picked a line to my left along a ridge that hid me from the deer, and sprinted about 200 yards hoping to get a shot. As I approached the ridge, I slowed my pace, and inched toward the edge to peer over, fully expecting to see "my" mule deer buck. Instead, nothing!...Where had they gone?
Russ had been watching the scene unfold from high atop an opposite ridge, and he thought he saw them run beyond the ridge I had stopped on. We decided to leave them alone for awhile. After enjoying our lunch on a plateau overlooking several deep cuts and draws, we decided to drive a road around the area we thought they went. The plan was to get some elevation and see if we could spot them below us.
We traveled some extremely rugged and steep roads to get high up on the mountain. At the higher altitude, the wind blew harder and air was notably colder. We glassed the ridges, cuts, and valleys below us, and only spotted a small group of antelope. After getting my bearings, I volunteered to hike down the mountain to get a closer look at each cut in hopes of spotting that buck again. We planned to meet back at the area we had lunch in about 2-3 hours.
Hiking alone in country like this always gives me bit of the willies. Black bear and mountain lion roam these hills. The numerous rock outcroppings and ledges that I stalked around seemed perfect perches from which a cat could attack. The howling wind settled more and more as I descended, until it was completely calm when I reached a point halfway down. The certain imminent danger of a lion attack, now coupled with the silence from the lack of wind, intensified my uneasiness.
As I neared the peak of each ridge, I cautiously peered over the edge to see if mule deer might be on the other side. I reached a ridge that was now only two ridge tops from our meeting spot. As with the others, I peered over its top. My eyes fixed on what I initially thought was a round, brown rock. Then I thought to myself that rocks in this country are not round. I looked more closely, and sure enough, a mule deer. I backed away to calm my nerves which had instantly gone on high alert. I looked again, and this time saw several brown rocks.
Backing away again, I removed my binoculars, pack, and hat. I had to be careful to not silhouette myself too much as the sun and sky were at my back. Army crawling up to the ledge, I peered over with my range finder first. One-hundred eighteen yards...great, an easy shot. Then I rested my rifle on the rock ledge, and slowly pointed in the direction of the deer. As I peered through the scope, I went from animal to animal to see if one of them was my muley buck. One, no...two, no...and so on, until I counted thirteen deer. All does.
I settled down a bit, and watched them browse for nearly 15 minutes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a lone deer coming out of the bottom of the draw heading toward the group of does (by the way, that's pronounced "doze", not "duz"). Swinging my scope to the right, I quickly identified this late arriver as just another doe. Then, another loner came in from the left. My view to the left was not as good and did not offer a shot, but I did indeed see horns on this one. As these two deer entered the picture, the main group of does started to catch my wind. They milled around, ears on full alert, noses raised in the air, trying to identify what and where danger lurked.
The lead doe decided it was time to leave the area. She started trotting away from me, up a ridge on the opposite side. The others followed. I quickly repositioned for a shot on the opposite ridge. I found the buck in my scope, and as I did he stopped. Broadside. As I examined the horns, my first instinct was to let him go. He was a tall four point, two on each side. Not bad, but not the big one I had seen earlier. Then, within the next three seconds, my mind rapidly went through a series of random thoughts: it was Thursday, we only have one more day to hunt; I would only mount the horns of this animal, not the whole head, but a nice little mule deer horn mount would be a good memory of the trip; what if Dad does not get anything?...it would be better to go home with two animals than one (I did not know Dad had shot a deer already).
BANG! My mind was made up and I pulled the trigger. And much to my satisfaction, the deer did not take one step, dropping immediately. I waited five minutes or more, watching the deer the whole time. He had stopped moving several minutes prior. I called Russ on the radio and let him know I had one down. Russ said he was on his way.
I started gathering my things, and before I took my first step toward the deer, he jumped up and ran off. He was limping a bit, but had no trouble putting a couple hundred yards between us in a short amount of time. I marked the last spot I saw him, then waited about 10 minutes before giving chase. My hope was that he would bed down, and not get back up. When I arrived at the spot I last saw him, I fully expected to see blood, but could not find any. I tracked him for nearly 400 more yards, and lost his track. I never saw him again.
Russ and Dan saw him briefly as they parked at the meeting spot, so we combed that area for two hours trying to find him, or sign of him. Nothing. In the end, I must have hit him high on the shoulder, which only stunned him. Given how far he ran, it is likely that he will live. Nonetheless, a very sad and disappointing end to a great afternoon of hunting.
Friday is a new day, and we will hope for another good hunt.
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