C.C.Cody171

My wife and I have been married for just over nine years now and many amazing times have been shared. Ups, downs and in betweens, as with relationships of any kind. From the days each of our four kids entered our world, to the days we've rushed them to the hospital over the years. From days like our engagement and our wedding, to days that can leave one wondering about the future. It's a lot like hunting, it can be tough but it's all worth the good times! To combine hunting and marriage has been a special experience that I feel fortunate to have shared with the love of my life. To briefly recap over the last decade that led to our latest fall adventure, you will realize this huntress is tough as nails and really something. A couple weeks before our wedding, Alex joined my dad and I, hours before daylight, in preparation of her first lion hunt. Although saddling equine was within her knowledge, collaring hounds and taking off into rough mountains before the sun was all new. Embracing this, she kept up and was intrigued by the personality of each dog that can keep a positive thinker in stitches. After a few scrapes, scratches and steep climbs that day, we were facing down a tree'd cat. My fiancé brought the lion down with a pistol and put meat in our freezer for the first time, the beginning of her hunting career. A couple months later, we were living in a desert ghost town RV park, as I was a welder on the border fence. As armed newlyweds, we were cruising two tracks on my day off, with nothing particular in mind. That's when I discovered the true level of her natural ability to shoot! The seemingly unlimited population of rabbits and birds stood no chance. Again providing meat for our dinner table. Between wildlife encounters she'd ask me to pull over for a round of vomiting, due to her newly acquired morning sickness. I felt terrible but, she'd jump back in and say "alright let's go!" Once we were settled back in my home town in Southeast Arizona, we found ourselves on top of a small hill. Waiting for the sun with her first deer tag to fill. As I explained each step of what we were doing there, we began to glass the surrounding plains for desert mulies. Although, Alex's main concern revolved around the fact this was her first day away from our second child. It wasn't long before she casually mentioned "I see some deer, they have horns." I glanced at her and followed the direction of her optics to some distant mesquites. Excitedly, I found the two bucks walking broadside, way beyond shooting range. After retreating down the backside of our lookout, with my mind strictly studying the necessary steps for a successful stalk. I was taken by surprise needing to suddenly shift mental gears. Because she was an actively nursing mother, we absolutely had to postpone our pursuit of the deer right then. On top of that, we needed to return to the truck where everything she needed was left. I just wasn't used to considering these variables but, obviously there was no choice. Once pressure was relieved, I put the things we may need again in my pack and off we went. After skirting around our original hill, we gained enough elevation on a different hill and relocated one bedded buck. I could see his antlers, the 2x2 showing above the yellow grass in the distance. Not knowing where the 4x4 went, we circled down wind and crept within shooting distance across a shallow ravine from our target. After he stood up, Alex sent the bullet. At about 150 yards, she dropped her first deer back into his bed. Her tag was filled and she was anxious to return to our baby. Fortunately always her top priority. One bullet, one deer! Alex's next hunt was also for mule deer. A couple days in, after some long walks, we were set up on two feeding bucks at 300 yards. She squeezed it off, placing a perfect shot behind the shoulder of the bigger two point. He went down within twenty yards. Interestingly, this deer wound up being a hybrid! Two bullets, two deer! Finally, to my relief, she wanted to give coues a shot! We had friends and family along in deer camp for this one and our ten year old nephew, Ryder, and our good friend, Kendall, harvested their first deer! With limited time that fall and many tags to fill, we never located a deer Alex chose to pursue. The next year, her and Kendall drew the late hunt in a unit I had never rifle hunted for whitetail before. They would both be near the beginning of their third trimester for this hunt and my wife tends to be very sick throughout her pregnancies. We glassed from roads almost every day after work and hunted the weekends, with the help of friends and family to babysit our three kids. Number four being in the oven, along for his first hunt! Kendall tagged herself a buck, shooting a further distance than I've ever killed anything, around 550 yards. Alex proved her toughness day after day of this grueling hunt, stopping to puke and dry heave periodically. Several days, I had to insist we call it and head home. She badly wanted to get a mature deer but I couldn't take her discomfort as well as she could. We went into one of our last days with 47 buck sightings behind us, not a single one appearing to be over three years old. We four-wheeled to a dead end road where we had previously seen one of the biggest bucks so far. Alex seamed as sick as ever so I asked her to get a little more sleep. I'd only be a short distance away glassing. I took off for the nearest peak, where I could still see the truck and have a decent vantage into some prime coues habitat. As the sun provided visibility, I located the same buck as the week before from this perch. I glanced at the truck to see Alex throwing up violently. I cringed and picked everything up to rush down. By the time I got to the saddle between us, she was there having a snack. She explained that she felt better that day. I was skeptical but informed her of the buck. Her attitude was positive and she wanted to get him so we moved up the hill on the other side of the saddle to have a look. We carefully navigated along a hogback ridge to get an optimum shot angle. Once set up, Alex couldn't believe her eyes at the intensity this buck chased a doe all over the hillside. I have witnessed this many times during the archery season but it never gets old. The most exciting part for me was watching the thrill my wife was getting out of this show. Never offering a clean shot, the deer moved into a hidden cut in the steep mountainside. We considered all of our options and decided to head back to the truck and take a different road around, to the canyon below where he had disappeared. After a twenty minute drive and another twenty minutes on the quad, we were in a better spot to stalk from. We grabbing everything we needed to hold out until dark and quietly made our way up the thick hillside. We had to find the only small clearing we had noticed from the hogback across the canyon. We reached it, realizing it was a piece of old mining road and a perfect shooting bench! As we set up, I occasionally glanced at the draw across from us, about 250 yards away. Catching some grey movement, I threw my glasses up. "That's a buck, that's him!" Trying to stay calm, knowing the deer had already pegged us. We did our best at achieving a steady rest, manipulating rocks and packs for a pregnant prone position. Alex was shaking pretty bad. After a brief moment, she had the buck in her sights and I was ready to watch the shot. As he was still staring at us, those few seconds drug by, knowing by his stance that he could bolt at any moment. The rifle erupted and an instant later I saw the signs of a perfect impact right in his bread basket! He jumped hard and expired within seconds into some bear grass, out of sight. She freaked out at my sweet words, "he's dead, you smoked him!" After a celebration and big hug, she didn't seem sick anymore and was ready to get over there. Reminding her to pick out land marks to find him, we packed up and she took the lead to her buck, all smiles! Three bullets, three deer! This year, Alex and Kendall drew a muzzleloader whitetail tag. I had zero experience or knowledge with muzzleloaders. Since I was drawn for archery elk this year, there was no time throughout the summer to scout for anyone's deer hunt. Fortunately, my wife's brother, his wife, their two sons, my sister and two of her daughters drew whitetail tags in the same unit before the muzzleloader hunt. Helping everyone I could, would be the only time I would get to spend in the unit prior to my wife and Kendall's hunt. I got to be along for three days, four shots and three deer down! Two of those days, my eight year old daughter and six year old son were able to join in the fun, they loved it! This allowed me to check a couple of my go to spots off the list, considering all the recent commotion. Our good friend Jeff, Kendall's husband, planned to be with us for the three days we had for the hunt but important family matters called for his attention on short notice. Alex, Kendall and I moved into the desert darkness well before sun up, on our first day, to reach our glassing hilltop in the rough country. Weighing heavily on my mind was worry that the hike was too difficult. Any sudden change in my wife's day to day has negatively effected milk production in the past. It may be strange to mention but this variable played a major role in every decision of this hunt. On top of that, just her stress of being away from our baby boy for the first time, may have an effect. She's not a mother who easily leaves her babies, something I love about her. About an hour and a half later we were scanning the beautiful scenery, trying to pick out shapes through the dim light. Over the years, their glassing abilities have improved greatly. They both spotted several deer, coyotes and javelina on that cool morning. Also, the sightings of deer shaped logs, rocks and cactuses have decreased greatly! Alex may have even outgrown her nickname "Blind Squirrel", maybe... As for Kendall's new nickname, I will get to that shortly. My brother, Caleb, drove in to glass the morning in a nearby spot too, hoping to find a shooter for us to come running at the word. As the morning evaporated, I had only spotted one bachelor group, about two miles away. The five bucks had gone into a shaded spot on a rolling hill, a place we figured they would stay. Searching in every direction for a couple more hours didn't provide better opportunity so we packed up and headed toward the group of bucks. It was far away for seeing details but there appeared to be a few three points, a spike, and a mule deer spike, surprisingly. I had actually borrowed this muzzleloader from a friend and had shot it just enough to know it was on and to get acquainted with this intriguing weapon. We wanted to get within 250 yards and have plenty of time to set up, undetected. We hiked down the backside of a long ridge towards our new destination, peaking over often enough to maintain correct bearing. As we poked over enough to see, the last time, we were at 260 yards. Sneaking single file, we reached a good size rock to shoot from, now at 250 yards! From here we could only find one bedded buck and after some consideration my wife decided she would like to take him. A short discussion formed our plan. Once Alex's deer was down, Kendall needed to move into shooting position right away while I reloaded and we all needed to look for another COUES buck to show himself. I'd then range him while Kendall found him in the scope. What a plan, trying to get a double with a single muzzleloader, haha! I placed a primer, instructing Alex to pull the hammer back when she was ready, finger off the trigger. She began to tremble behind the scope as she focused on her bedded buck in the crosshairs. We had all the time in the world because the deer was calm, I reminded her of that fact more than once. I tapped her leg and told her to wait several times. She was visibly shaking and even hyperventilated a little bit. I later learned that her ear plugs were causing her heart beat to be quite the distraction. This is one of the coolest thing I can witness because I can relate. I love when anyone I'm helping bag a coues deer starts feeling it to this degree. Giving her a few moments to just watch the deer and gain control of herself made a big difference, she was ready. I stared at the deer, waiting to catch any info I could from the shot. BOOM! "He's dead babe, you freakin smoked him! You shot him in the neck but you smoked him!!!" These killers stuck to the plan better than I did. Alex excitedly sat back but literally became sick as her adrenaline rush came down. After a brief hesitation, I rapidly poured powder and forced a bullet down the barrel. I felt scrambled and nobody was really looking for deer. Before long we were setup again, the hillside was motionless. Nothing moved so I started glassing, still no more deer were visible. I decided to slowly stand so I could see deeper into the gorge. There was another bedded 3x3 twenty yards below Alex's deer. Chewing his cud without a worry, we were money. Without any way to shoot, besides off hand, we needed to find a shooting lane through the brush. I grabbed the few items we might need, including the gun. Kendall followed, duplicating my crouch, cautiously gravitating left. After about eighty yards, we found a great spot but it was crawling with red ants, we kept moving. Another twenty yards, this spot would work. We were still around 250 yards. As she got comfortable, I crawled along carefully snapping weeds and small mesquite branches in order to clear a canal in the vegetation. To allow visibility through the scope and a clear path for the 50 caliber bullet. Everything was set, Kendall was on him and I was waiting for the shot. Studying the buck through my binos, his ears shot up as dirt exploded into the air above his back line. Kendall's nerves went nuts, as did mine, I rushed to reload. She remarked that she may have pulled it. So, this is where Kendall earns her nickname, "Battleship", haha. Miss, miss, he's up, hit! Oh no, liver shot. He laid down, miss, miss, let's get closer. At 160 yards, he's back up, he laid down again, hit! Alright he's done! Reloading as fast as I could every time made me feel like a one man pit crew trying to keep us in the race. With our last bullet, her buck was sunk. I've rarely been so relieved. We returned up the hill, gathered everything and the three of us made our way to their deer. Once we were about twenty feet away, a third 3x3 jumped up and looked at us for a few seconds before running away. We could have easily tripled with another tag... and some more bullets! Another exciting hunt, I wouldn't trade moments like this for anything. Cutting up and carrying two deer out made for a long day into the night. It also resulted in the heaviest pack I've ever carried, should have made two trips! Alex is already talking about hunts to come and our kids are too. Meat and good times should never be in short supply! I'd like to thank anyone who has babysat for us over the years, allowing us to partake in these hunts. I appreciate Caleb for coming all he could, to lend his eyes in the daylight search. His wife and son came along too, very cool. A huge thanks to John, for loaning me his muzzleloader and giving me the crash corse that allowed our success to be possible. Also for using precious time off work to make all that happen. Always thanks to my dad, along with so much more, he taught me the importance of passing on knowledge and investing time into the youngsters and new hunters around us. I doubt I would have assisted in as many hunts without his example. Over the last several years, I've had the opportunity to watch many friends and family get their game, their first deer in many cases. I'd like to thank everyone for letting me be a part of these moments and take my verbal harassment with good nature, as it's intended. Also for being generous with cuts of meat here and there! Nobody seams to fight me for the heart, liver and caul-fat, although considering I'm always in on the field processing, it is odd that some of these deer were born with only one backstrap... Above all, I'd like to thank my wife for being herself and for being happy with me. I'm looking forward to many years and hunts together. Four deer with four bullets! What a women!

Awesome footage, great job! I have an elk tag in sept, yet still can't help but dream of January. Thanks for sharing!

Another January has come and gone, chasing coues deer with a bow around southeastern Arizona. I'm already planning eleven months ahead and imagining how it may go. I had so many plans for this year that just didn't happen, although I can't complain considering the way it turned out. There's always seems to be too much to hunt and never nearly enough time. Unfortunately, some of those canceled plans included hitting the hills with some great friends but I was fortunate enough to spend a little time in the field with my wonderful wife. She joined me on the first day of a three day backpack hunt. I had previously stashed water on the mountain, while accompanying my dad on a lion with my daughter along as well, always a pleasure. All in search of a big buck that barely escaped me last year, on January 1st. Unable to locate him again and having a failed stalk, on a different deer, behind me. I moved down my list of places to hunt. Due to an old neck injury flare up and a broken bow sight in December, I found myself going through the motions and wandering through the woods with a general lack of confidence. Since I wasn't able to shoot as much as normal. I did see some great bucks though and was elated the day I relocated a buck from two January's ago. A buck with split g2's, split g3's and as much gnarly character as I've ever seen. Another really awesome buck I spotted during a storm a couple days before finding my buck. Some great bucks for the future. My buck when I first saw him again this year. Back in 2016 when I stalked this buck, my friend Creed watched from just above a small saddle that overlooked the bowl. The wise old deer busted me well before shooting range and beelined it for the saddle next to Creed. He saw what was happening and hustled to reach a good position. They about ran into each other and both momentarily froze. After drawing on the buck, Creed responsibly refused to rush his shot and it was nothing but a close call. The deer took off and never slowed down until he was out of sight over a huge ridge, far to the northwest. From then on, I referred to him as the buck that Creed passed, always receiving a look and comment in return. Within a few minutes of studying him, this year, I had no doubt I had turned up the same old bruiser. He had lost quite a bit of tine length and body size but his frame with downward turned main beams was unmistakable. We reviewed some pictures and videos later and became more convinced of his identity, with the same color tail as well. So, this time he was about a mile away and the stalk to get around in good position would take hours through rough, thick country. I was pleasantly surprised as I reached my landmark above the draw he shared with a few does, when I immediately spotted him. I had plenty of time and the conditions were doable with extreme care to go slow and quiet. As I was moving forward, I noticed a doe to my right, staring at me. She wasted no time vacating straight towards my target and taking everything with her. I made it to 170 yards and then rushed the final stalk, dummy! A long discouraging walk back to my truck. After turning the place upside down, I couldn't believe my eyes nearly a week later. I watched the same buck disappear over a small rise, right at daylight. Moving into the next big canyon had the result I was hoping for but I had to dog trot up a long ridge to hopefully find him, yet again. I gasped for breath almost an hour later, while admiring my new perch. I could see everywhere he should be, I patiently sat right there for about the next ten hours convinced I'd turn him up any second. Every deer I saw was a heart rush to only be let down that it wasn't him. At least I witnessed some awesome rutting activity form there. I left most of my stuff behind and began the dark climb down, knowing I needed to return before daylight the next day. I felt some hesitation leaving my bow, binos, spotter and everything else for a lone night in the wild but didn't want myself getting lazy the next morning and settling for a lesser glassing position. Also I think it's funny that I left my lunch up there to eat the next day too, focusing on looking for my buck I completely forgot to eat it. Well, it's all about ups and downs and regardless of effort, the next day was a bust. My wheels were turning, I had to figure this out and make some decisions for the next day. Some bucks I saw while trying to relocate my buck. Still not knowing what to do, racing against time as the sky lit up, I moved up the familiar ravine towards multiple glassing options. I decided to move back west where I had originally saw him. It wasn't far for a rutting buck to cruise and it had been a couple days so who knew what else may show up. Agonizing over which spot was better, I finally started out of the ravine to my left. Climbing through the scrub oak and mesquites, doing my best to navigate correctly. I chose the more ideal spot to see more country vs. the better position to stalk from, once and if I had a deer spotted. After a slow morning, I finally spotted a couple does exactly where I had stalked him the week before. My heart took the abuse as I searched for his grand presence, no luck. Getting lost in my binos, I continued to scan. Holding my breath for a break, picking apart every shape. Suddenly, I couldn't have missed him. After having looked a dozen times, there he stood! I began to shake and did my best at a quick,hand held, phone video through my spotter. He was about 600 yards away but, I carefully packed up and snuck backwards out of sight. Knowing I'd be blind for at least thirty minutes I tried to hold a steady pace. Working down the backside of my hill, I reached the ravine and circled toward the other spot I had almost started at that morning. I would have been only 300 yards away and in a better position to begin my stalk, oh well. Stepping above the privacy of the thick cut, I realized he was where I had left him with a quick glance. Showing the patience of an old buck, with his doe a short distance away. I returned to the very bottom of my chosen traveling corridor and eased my way up, closing the distance. I would be below them but the wind was good and if anything, they were slowly working their way towards me, on the thick north facing slope. I checked my position by poking into view a few times and trying to see him again. A couple of the times I got no reassurance but continued on. One last check, a sky lined doe was about 200 yards up the hill and I heard several grunts! I picked out his rack through some mountain mahogany. After careful advance, I found myself in the brush with them. Things weren't really looking good but I had no good reason to believe they had left. With each small, slow step I dissected the vegetation through my binos. I found a doe nibbling the leaves off a scrub oak and my heart started racing. Around fifty yards and she had the same distinct white spots below her ears. This was it! Pounding hooves stole my attention as a doe raced up to my right, with a buck on her tail. She looked right at me and spun around, darting away. The buck remained oblivious as I could possibly have arrowed him. I looked back and the other doe seemed unbothered. She was coming down hill, closing the distance for me. She angled to my left and I picked up movement behind her. As she moved through a slight opening I ranged the best I could and hooked up my release. The movement was him! His rack was all I could see, literally. Floating above the shrubs ten feet behind his doe. I was drawn and hoping he didn't stop and look because there was no shot yet. To my dismay, he stopped in the opening. I split my 30 and 40, my bow jumped! I was waiting for that one thing to go wrong but knew it was over as my arrow disappeared in the sweet spot. Wow!!! All the emotions, hard work, pain, discomfort and everything else suddenly piled up and I thought I might collapse, I was exhausted. He was out of sight right away but I had no doubt he was laying a short distance away. I was standing no more than fifty yards from where Creed stood the day he "passed" this buck two years ago. Haha I found him right away, he had gone about forty yards. I was in disbelief and I still am. An old mature giant of the coues country, in my opinion. This deer was as much as thirty percent bigger bodied when we saw him before. With teeth worn down flat and some missing, I have no doubt he was near the end. Possibly may have been his last January anyway, had he slipped past me. Hopefully I have many more to come. This wouldn't have been possible without the support from my wife. I've said before, the amount of patience it takes to spot and stalk coues deer with a bow pales in comparison to the patients it takes to be married to me. Thanks for reading and good luck scouting!

Thanks everybody. I appreciate the kind words, this buck is something I've always dreamed of for sure. I still can't believe it worked out the way it did. Thanks Creed, I learned from the best! Thanks again for passing this buck. Yes, both his main beams are 19 2/8"! Basically over a 100" main frame two point (bucket list) with some extra stuff and crazy character putting him over 110, I can't get over it. I would sure love to find this deer's sheds from the last few years. Thanks again everyone.

Great write up of a special story. I never had the pleasure of knowing Jeff but have had the chance to talk hunting with Marvin on several occasions. His love for it is obvious, no doubt, one of many qualities handed down from his dad. I'm glad to have had the opportunity to be a small part of this and also to have met the whole deer camp of great people. Caleb and I were ecstatic to hear the news the day Marvin got that awesome buck, knowing what it meant to him and everyone involved.

Great write up Creed. Makes me wish even more that I would have been able to tag along for this one. A double main beam! My first thought when you sent the live pic at the time was "that's a dead deer!" Good job to both of you and congrats. Well deserved success!

This year of Archery hunting coues deer has been the most eventful to date as far as the class of deer that were spotted by my hunting partners and I. As always great anticipation led up to the first of the year waiting for our tags to be valid. Finally it was time for the coues whitetail rut hunt throughout our playground of Sky Island mountain ranges. Ample time had passed sense fall rifle hunts and anyone with this hobby or way of life rather is chomping at the bit to run them selves ragged through the impressive habitat our elusive prey calls home. After many long days of covering country by boot and glass there were several close calls to speak of. Disappointing moments of watching deer I'd love to have harvested bounce away taunting me with a flag of their large white tail waving goodbye. Or watching as a trophy that we located simply happened to be traveling at a pace and direction to where we couldn't negotiate a stalk in time. Due to work schedules my hunting partner Creed and I spent days in the woods solo. On a day I was working Creed was able to put everything together an a mature buck and succeeded in taking him home. Actually able to do so with his wife and two kids and a couple other family members along for the adventure watching his stalk from a distance, it doesn't get any better than that. So although wrapping an Archery tag around a coues horn, especially in my opinion after a spot and stalk style kill, is an amazing accomplishment and experience. The only bad news is, that's your year. Your done in AZ at that point. You are ineligible to draw a rifle tag or continue hunting with your bow in the fallowing Archery seasons that year. Neither while they're in velvet during a three week hunt in August and September or another few weeks in December. It's well worth it but it's a little bit of a drag knowing you have to wait a whole year. Well as I said there were a handful of close calls for me but I was never quite able to seal the deal. From being less than 15 yards from a bedded 110 class buck when my ankle popped giving him an excuse to come unglued, to watching with disbelief as a bobcat chased a 115 class buck over the hill away from me. It just wasn't my January but at least I came away from the season with tabs on some mature bucks I could look forward to looking for in August and some great memories. After a long spring and summer during the off season I was counting the days until my tag was good again and trying to plan out my days off work. I was able to take a couple days putting trail cameras up here and there attempting to get a close up of some of the bigger bucks growing their new horns. An idea came to mind that the coolest thing ever would be to kayak or raft out of primitive country with a bow and coues deer as luggage! By chance, I wound up with a couple used kayaks in a trade deal just in time. After getting my work schedule altered around during the season I wound up with a 3 day weekend, a 2 day weekend and a 6 day stretch that I could hunt. Unfortunately some under the gun duties lingered into the first set, keeping me from hunting at all. The 2nd set went great, I saw a couple nice bucks and one day with my brother Caleb as a spotter I stalked a really big buck but never got a shot. The long and final stretch of 6 days was my perfect opportunity to give the float trip a shot. After my best efforts at convincing multiple buddies it would be an awesome experience several wanted to go but nobody was able to make it happen, so I would have to go alone. A minimum of 2 days and a maximum of 6 days. A list of everything I would need had been revised 100 times and I was all packed up. My dad was able to spend a day helping drop my truck at the bottom and chauffeur me and my gear to the top end of the float. This time of year still getting in the 90's and not knowing how long it would take to get meat out I decided to tow the second kayak behind me with an ice chess full of dry ice and blocks of ice. After a little research I decided this would be sufficient for the length of the trip. We got everything put together and loaded up at the rivers edge. After some hesitation from looking at the river not knowing how this might end we said our goodbyes and off I went. A short time later knowing there was no turning back I began to think to myself "wow man what did you get yourself into?". The first few hours was an intense learning experience, I looked back at one point and the kayak with the ice chest was dragging behind me up side down. I jumped out and corrected it also checking the tie down straps. I stopped just before dark without a choice to go further, the trailer kayak was water logged because it flipped quite a few times. It wound up having some minor leaks that I didn't notice when I tested them in my brothers pool. We had filled the ice chest with rocks and loaded the kayak but nothing could have imitated the river. By the end of the day my drive to stay positive was suffering. I made it as far as I could that first day wanting to get to truly primitive country that possibly doesn't get hunted in search for a population of wildlife where hopefully a larger number of deer could reach full potential. Plus I had a bear and lion tag I would have been more than willing to fill. I still felt cheated from January when I stalked less than 20 yards from a lion and never got a shot off, all while Creed was taking video from a distance. Anyways, at daylight the next day I found myself above vast cliffs over looking the river bottom and amazing country that was just breathtaking as the sun presented my surroundings. I was in a far off place, now would be a worse time than usual for an injury or rattle snake bite. It would pay to be extra cautious. After immediately glassing up trophy big horned sheep and a number of white tail doe's I continued my search. Half way through the day of searching I hadn't turn up a single buck. Now I was really second guessing this idea. I bailed back off the shear climb the way I had come and broke camp. I decided to go as far as I could and have one more morning hunt the next day. But then to end the trip early and salvage my days off work in country I was familiar with near my own stomping grounds. The rest of the day was a repeat of the day before in many ways. The main problem was the trailer kayak. I had never done this or found any information on how to but leading a loaded down kayak with another loaded down kayak basically took away all ability to navigate the rapids. I adjusted the weight several times attempting to help the issue but nothing worked. I flipped both boats more times than I could count and was slammed into boulders and under over hanging brush banks and logs until I was far beyond my whits. Luckily I didn't lose anything because of careful packing and tie downs but my equipment was failing and my energy was gone. Especially the back kayak was taking in water and about every hour I had to stop and unload it so I could tilt it up and pull the plug to drain it. During the mess of a tricky corner I was trying to keep my kayaks on course and I lost hold of my paddle. I kept glancing down stream and it was getting further away fast but I couldn't abandoned my gear yet. Once I got through to a decent spot I had to take off running and swimming to catch my paddle. My feet and ankles were cussing me from the rocky abuse by the time I reached my paddle about 100 yards down river. My frustration level caused me to cancel my plans for the next morning and do whatever it took to reach my truck that day. I gained some skill making it a little easier and became numb to the torture making the next 10 or so hours a blur. I finally straightened my back and clumsily dragged my stuff out of the river and across land for about 150 yards to my truck. It was late at night by this time and darkness had increased the difficulty considerably. My head lamp also provided a constant cloud of bugs flying into my mouth, nose and eyes. You get the picture. This trip didn't go to plan but by the end I was glad I went through with it and plan to try again using some of the information I gathered on this trial run. For the possibility of hunting the next day I had a long night ahead of me still just getting home. After the 1.5 hour drive on dirt roads just to get to pavement I jumped out for a bathroom break. Four hours later I suddenly jerked my head up and realized when I got back in my truck I had leaned onto my center console and had fallen into a deep sleep in the worst position ever. That day was waisted after all, just getting home and recouping. I stopped and slept one more time for an hour before making it home. I went out that evening with my brother Caleb and found some young bucks neither of us pursued. Three days of the season remained for me before I had to return to work. The first day was Labor Day and there was some family bbq stuff planned in the afternoon so I hunted close to home with my brother, brother in laws and my niece who has her second deer hunt this fall. We hunted the unit her hunt is in to do some scouting. My brother Caleb stalked a couple good bucks with me a step behind him to video. That was really exciting for me because he is an avid coues hunter and has harvested numerous mature deer but none with a bow yet. We got to around 40 yards but it was too thick and no shot presented itself. The wind swirled on us and the deer busted out, always something. These tough little deer are really good at staying alive no doubt. Needing to make the bbq on time, our hunt was over for the day. I had two days left and decided to hunt a place that takes a lot if time to get into position combining the drive and hike. Three o'clock the next morning came quick, high hopes for this spot kept me up some that night. For years I noticed this spot from a distance and always wanted to check it out and this January I finally had time to scratch the itch. Creed and I hunted it one day and spotted some great bucks, an epic day of hunting really. It was the day a bobcat chased a bruiser over the mountain away from me. The day after, Creed had to work but I went back and found that buck again and did a six hour stalk only to mistake where he was bedded right at the end. I was staring into the brush at 25 yards when I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye and when I slowly looked the monster buck was staring at me at 35 yards! Knowing it was over I turned and drew my bow in one motion but before settling my pin he disappeared with a flash of grey and white. I've had countless failed stalks but it's always hard when you know you blew it especially on such a great animal. Possibly even a lifetime best for me with my bow. Luckily both days I got footage of the deer, including when the bobcat chased him, and would remember his huge frame well. These thoughts are what robbed my sleep all these months later the night before hopefully having another chance at him. Everything was going to schedule the next morning but as I walked away from my truck I heard a hissing sound from my right rear tire. I just shook my head knowing it would be on the rim when I got back, I'll deal with that later. Before leaving home a couple hours before I decided I better throw in a few last minute things incase I get on a big buck and decide to stay the night to avoid the long rough drive again. The last part of that drive in I was pleased to see the tall green grass in the road. Not only had no other hunters been on it during this season but there had been plenty of rain. The first big decision of the day was go up a long ridge to my right or get on the first pointed hill on my left. I figured I'd lose a little time on the hill but this time of year I might find a shooter on the long ridge in that lower country. It would be a mistake to go charging up it in the dark without spending a few minutes checking it out first from the pointed hill. Once at the top of the hill I started getting set up to glass just in time to see, which is a little late in my opinion. The country looked great and I couldn't wait to start picking it apart through the glass. This time of year is different than glassing during the rifle hunts in the fall and winter. Not only is everything vibrant green but the deer are also a different color. Their temporary red or even orange tent in contrast with green surroundings cause them to almost light up, especially at first light when the sunlight is coming from the side instead of the top of their backs. I had given Caleb and Creed a hard time about not being able to join me for this hunt. Them having seen the deer from January by reviewing my video of him, I knew it was killing them not to be there. They both had to work that day so as soon as I sat down I noticed I had phone service and I started a group text with a couple scenery pictures of this awesome coues country just to rub it in. The first thing I did in my Binos was a quick scan of all the best looking stuff close to me, basically everything under 1000 yards. I intently but quickly searched up the long ridge I had considered hiking up first thing. I was about halfway done with that ridge when I spotted my first deer of the day. It had been 7 minutes sense I sent the scenery pictures and now I sent another text that read only two words. "Giant spotted!" It was 5:58 and my blood started racing. There was no question, at about 750 yards I immediately new I was looking at the buck I came here for. I looked away to get my spotting scope and when I looked back he was gone. He had stepped behind a bush causing a radical panic for a long 5 minutes. Finally there he was again, I rushed at first to get some video before he disappeared but over the next 4 hours of watching him waiting for the right opportunity for a stalk I got pretty good footage through my Spotting scope just with my phone. He laid down for an hour at one point but not in a spot I thought he would stay in. It was a good thing I didn't go for it because I wouldn't have had enough time to get into position. Without anyone spotting I would have lost track of him and more than likely bumped him and possibly not even known when he busted out. My back and body were still feeling the aftermath of the kayaking plunder and my eyes were fighting me to stay open. When in this situation the famous last words are "well I only looked away for a second, I don't know where he went." From past experience I knew I had to grind this part out and wait for him to bed. His demeanor indicated he was ready to lay down but it was dragging on. When your having to keep your eyes glued to the glass there is no breaks when you're alone so you have to do what you have to do while glassing. I mean everything... let's just say if anyone was watching me at this time they were pretty freaked out. But hey when nature calls there's no refusing! Anyways, a coyote trotted along the hill below the buck and I held my breath he'd stay put. It was a huge relief when the buck watched him pass by and went back to eating. Just as I was sure he was about to bed down a doe came up from the bottom of the hill and layed down next to him. After staring at her for a minute the buck turned up hill and walked straight over the top out of sight. I layed flat on my back right away and stretched and then leaned back up for thirty minutes making sure he didn't come back over to bed down. I couldn't believe it, I watched all that time and then he was gone. Typical really for a buck to do the last thing you were hoping. It's a huge advantage for a stalk to see a deer bed down. In this case it wasn't all bad he went over because I already knew what it looked like on the other side and his new location put me above him easily with the wind in my favor. Even so, seeing right where they lay down is a big deal for the success rate with a bow. While watching the ridge line hoping for his return I was going over my stalk options from here. After much self debate I decided I was sure he went over a short distance and layed down. The verdict was something I would rarely do, go straight after him. Fallow his path over the hill slowly and do a blind stalk without knowing his exact position. A popular alternative for my style of hunting would have been to go all the way around and pin point his location from a distance before returning to this side of the hill for a stalk. I just didn't feel like I had the time. I got all packed up and took off for my landmarks to make sure I was in the right spot. A perfect amount of wind for stalking had come in over the last hour and the clouds were consistent enough to give me cover from the sun as well, perfect conditions. While about 100 yards from the top of the ridge I put on my knee pads and face cover and knocked an arrow just in case. During a stalk there are countless decisions as you go. Where and when to move, where to step and how fast. The quiet can make your ears ring. Your mouth is slightly open to improve your hearing and water is usually left behind. This was a short stalk so far but they can be drug out all day sometimes. Every little thing matters. I slowly crept forward until I was barely able to see over onto the other side of the hill. I left my pack there and let the next 20 yards take a while. After every tiny step I would grab my Binos from my chest and focus through each tree, bush, rock and blade of grass. There can be no noise. I became confident he wasn't in sight but I had come over about 70 yards to the right of where he did because of the angle he was walking when he came over. I retreated back over the ridge and worked my way to the left, to where he passed through. The wind was right in my face. The moment was aproaching where I would find out weather he was gone or I was very close to a true giant with my bow! Throughout this stalk I couldn't shake the feeling that it was gonna workout but the intensity of thinking about what might happen started literally giving me a stomach ache. I had worked my way out to the edge of some rocks about 10 yards from the top of the ridge, now on the same side of the hill as him again. Slowly scanning through the close range habitat with my binos all of the sudden his massive antlers were protruding from the grass behind an oak shrub. His head had that slow nod to it like he was chewing his cud. Realising he was facing directly away from me I lowered my glasses and ranged the branch above him at 25 yards! My body felt a surge of uncontrolled energy and my heart was trying to kill me. I held still and tried to envision a shot. There was no chance an arrow would make it. There was a shot from 10 feet to my left but I was too close to move that much. I prefer close shots at laying deer that have no clue of my presence. Standing deer have jumped my string but I've had good experience with shooting deer that aren't ready to move. This year I prepared a lot at home to shoot out to 80 yards in the wind equipping with a heavy arrow but I definitely do everything I can for a close shot. He was calm and the wind was ideal so I just stayed still and waited to feel in control of myself again. I ranged a few spots to my left and right in case he stood and came into view. Just when I had decided to back up a couple steps to wait behind a small bush to cover the movement of my draw he exploded from his bed and rushed to my right across the hill away from me. I felt deep panic as he passed by each spot I had previously ranged. I drew and settled without realizing it and just moved down my pins as he became a smaller target. Finally knowing there was nothing I could do I instinctively made a loud doe bleat noise with my mouth. It's a noise one might use during the rut in January but I didn't know what else to do. He slammed to a stop and whipped around to look at me, now standing broadside with his head to the left. With my left eye I could see he stopped ten feet to the left of my pack where I had left it on the ridge. Luckily I had ranged it already so to rest my draw was unnecessary. 68 yards, I settled my shot and squeezed it off. All this happened in the matter of seconds but what I remember well is watching my arrow fly toward him first on an upward angle and then sink from the skyline above his body striking home right where I had focused. The buck stumbled and lunged forward and away while grunting and kicking his back legs in desperation to be gone. As he turned and ran over the ridge back over to where I watched him all morning I could see my arrow had only penetrated about 5 inches square into his shoulder. To far forward, I had aimed slightly left into the wind but my arrow flew straight. Unexpectedly not effected by the steady wind blowing from left to right. Not realizing the lack of arrow depth was due to where I hit I grabbed the fourth arrow on my quiver which was equipped with a broadhead more designed for penetration. The buck was out of sight so I did the most quiet speed walk I'm capable of toward my pack. Covering about 90 yards I peaked over a bush onto the side hill below me. The buck had circled around and was now standing very wobbly with his head half down at 43 yards. My pin was instantly settled on the target and the arrow was in flight. Making contact behind his right shoulder passing through lower on the off side of his chest cavity behind his left armpit the deadly broadhead fallowed a perfect path through his heart. He lunged forward about 15 yards and hit the ground just out of sight behind a big bush. I knew that shot was golden but still hung out on top of the ridge for about 25 minutes because I didn't actually get to see him fall. I was too sick from rattled nerves to eat and my emotions were getting a hold of me pretty good. I carefully moved down hill. As soon as I was where he had been standing a heavy blood trail was obvious and at the end of it I could see his side arching from the grass. I was overwhelmed walking up to my buck especially as his antlers came into view from around the bush where he expired. There was no service so I couldn't call or text anyone and it turns out Creed and Caleb had been left hanging. The last they knew he walked out of sight away from me and the next thing they got was a couple late texts and a teaser pic of a big thumbs up covering the antlers. My wife and dad were wondering what was going on for a while too because I told them I found a giant that morning. I couldn't pick up service again until the drive out. I field dressed him and took my time with the heavy pack out. Then I had to deal with that tire. I just laughed when I saw it was flat. I was like, ok it doesn't really matter now. Haha. I did my best to take pictures with my phone on my tripod using the timer but it's hard to capture the magnitude of this beast with a picture. Plus my phone was about dead from taking video that morning so the screen was too dim to view the pictures I was taking. I set a couple trail cameras in the area this summer hoping to get pictures of this buck. I planned on checking them the day I hunted there but fortunately never made it that far sense I found him almost a mile from where I stalked him in January. I'm anxious to recover and review them to possibly have pictures of my buck as he grew. My family and I enjoyed some great deer tacos for dinner that night as they were all held captive to hear all about the hunt. Just kidding, they all support me in this and look forward to the times we go out together. My wife and kids shoot bows as well, there was a very close call for my wife to dirty her Archery tag last year. She's excited about next January just after her December whitetail rifle tag she drew with a good friend. Both of them will be pregnant for the hunt so wish us luck! I am passionate about spot and stalk Archery hunting coues deer. Although I have had many great times with a rifle too, there's just nothing like going into the wild with a bow and sneaking up on these amazing animals that I have the deepest respect for. I feel very fortunate to have even seen this buck, let alone harvested him with my bow. Especially sense specifically I have always thought it would be awesome to take a mature buck in the velvet. I know there are many passionate hunters that dream of a deer of this class, same as I have, but the timing just hasn't provided the opportunity yet. It's my desire to enjoy these moments over the years to come with my family and friends. Our oldest child will be old enough shortly and I can't wait to pass on knowledge and understanding of the wild to her, our two sons and their unknown younger siblings when the time comes. I was alone for this experience which made it special in another way but I could not have done it without the support from my hunting partners Creed and Caleb. Without my Dad, who I hold responsible for igniting the passion for the great outdoors in me as a kid. Most of all the support I receive in all I do from my uniquely patient wife. I love you babe, thank you. Good luck to everyone on your fall hunts and be safe. January is right around the corner!

Pm sent

The anticipation of a hunt with a rarely drawn tag is near the top of the list for torture of a common hunter. Months of this treatment passed during detailed preparation and I felt as if my insides were going to boil from anxiety. In the small gaps of a busy and active life, there was research and practice to the umpth degree. Every piece of gear tinkered with, red eyes from staring at google earth and maps late into the night, countless arrows sent down the driveway into several worn out targets. As much as anything, the challenge it turned into for me to become at least decent at talking to elk with various calls. This particular adventure involved extra aspects of packing in with equine and the planning of getting meat out when the time came. Improving and maintaining health before and during can not be over looked. For me, a highlighted question during the pre-hunt process is, "what's gonna cost me?". What's gonna stand in my way of success. Preparing for an elk hunt was less comfortable for me than other game animals I'm used to pursuing. I live in the desert, many hours drive from elk country. I've had a September archery tag in the past, in my home state of Arizona. At that time, immaturity blinded me from realizing I wasn't ready, when the sun came up opening morning. Now, several years later, I was at least capable of seeing the learning curve there would be for me to find what I was looking for on this journey. Along with my hunting partner, Creed, we gathered as much information about this new area from anywhere and anyone we could find it. Breaking into the vast Gila Wilderness of New Mexico has become a story of its own and the excuse to do so has also been its own great reward. Out of at least a dozen close competitors, our tack was finally driven into one specific place we would hang all hope on. A place no person could ever forget after spending any amount of time there. An absolute paradise that riding or walking into is as much a surprise as is it a lush habitat for wildlife, including the infamous screaming bull elk of September! As we explored this newly found playground, we discovered it was roughly five miles across in all directions. This may not sound like very much country but, believe me, its more than enough to walk yourself into a dither. Especially while fixated on a majestic quarry. Surrounded by completely opposing landscape, it would remind you of a park created in badlands. Along each border are steep rock formed upward and downward slopes, with a few select possibilities for exit or entry. We also planned on hunting into this rough stuff, in every direction, adding to our hunting grounds considerably. Our several trips into this country ranged from six to nine hours astride our saddles. Arriving at our predetermined camp location four days before opening day, I could hardly contain my excitement, it was time to stiffly dismount. Already having visited The Park a few weeks before to figure out our best path and set a handful of trail cams, we had become somewhat familiar with the area. These scouting and packing trips along with Creed and my dad were completely dependent upon the mules of this story. My rambunctious youngster, Beaudean. A couple of my brother Caleb's mules, Peaches and Clyde. Also part of my dads impressive herd; Wanda, John John, Emma and Sullivan. Without the donation of these animals and my dad along for the work involved, none of the following would have been possible. Creed would not arrive for a few more days, on the night before opening morning. However, my dad and I picked up a friend and fellow hunter on the drive in that had traveled all the way from Michigan to join in the chase. So on this Monday evening, Emmet, crawled from the back of the first mule he'd ever ridden, to regain feeling in his legs. My cousin, Travis, also tagged along for the pack in. The four of us worked together caring for the animals and putting camp together, home sweet home for possibly the next 20 days! With the countryside painted in dew soaked green grass, at least as high as our knees, we were grateful for waterproof boots. Mostly taking it slow and easy on those days leading up to having valid tags. Emmet and I checked cameras and drooled over the info they obtained. We perfected our high line system to hitch Sullivan, in accordance with the rules of the Wilderness area. We also enjoyed the different sounding bugles and close encounters with bears, deer and various wildlife. We even read a mushrooms for dummies book and took some semi educated risk to enjoy the native cuisine. Something I could see becoming a hobby in the future. I figured out the use of my new hammock and also continued to shoot my bow every day as I had been. My dad and cousin didn't stay long, they returned home with all the mules besides Sullivan. Creed would have to go pick up Peaches for his ride in on Thursday, "Peaches and Creed". I laughed at Creeds recollection of Peaches doing her worst to join the elk they passed on the way in. She's a bit heard bound and apparently thought they were mules! We ran through the highlights discovered on the trail cams and then we all did our best to catch some sleep. The air was cool but our lunges and legs felt a slight burn as we quietly moved out of our canyon towards the elk. Legal shooting light was closer than I'd hoped but that didn't matter to the sun, here came opening day. As the morning progressed, our camera man, Emmet, shadowed Creed and myself through the tall pines and forests of fern that grew to our elbows. We captured some footage of a couple good looking bulls that didn't quite have the maturity we'd been dreaming of. With fourteen days ahead of us, we saw no reason to quit the fun and start the work with an immature animal that hadn't had a chance to run his own harem yet. We kept moving toward the gnarly bugle that had occasionally echoed in our ears throughout the last several mornings. Each time, we would all glance at each other raising our brow and grin. Suddenly from behind us about forty elk came stampeding by, along with them was a nice 6x6 we had already passed on. Never knowing for sure what caused this, we briefly followed through with our stalk to discover the running group had swept the owner of the impressive bugle away from us. We had more close encounters with elk before mid morning but no bows were drawn. Circling past several trail cams and learning more about the country, we kept on the move most of that day. At one point, we walked within shooting distance of a younger 6x6 and decided to give him more time. We had the first day, several opportunities and about twelve miles behind us. Feed and water Sullivan and Peaches, prepare packs, eat, drink, sleep, feed and water again, eat and take off. The second morning we moved out of camp in a slightly different direction, going up the canyon bottom for aways. We ran into a good 6x7 and got some of his bugles of video. We let him work his way out of our path and continued on. We had discussed the night before, that we would go after different bugles to see as many bulls as possible. Emmett joined me to the left, to run down some distant whistling, Creed continued up the canyon solo. After working our way into the action, we laid our eyes on a shooter that I started calling "Cowboy", because he was hearding cows like a pro! We dogged this group for a couple of miles, slowly closing the gap, waiting for the right opportunity to slip in. After all my practice, I lacked the confidence to try any calling. I knew I could provide myself a shot with fast stealthy movements as I do with other game, with my bow. For me, playing it safe seamed to be my best option in this scenario. We barely missed an intense fight between this bull and another bull we never quite saw. A slight rise blocked our view but what a ruckus! The mystery bull retreated to the left. As we advanced the demeanor suddenly altered within this heard. Another bugle sounded off very close to our right and Emmett and I thought this may mean another clash of massive antlers. We carefully moved forward a bit more. We were getting close, something was about to happen. Scan the vegetation from left to right. There's the bull! No shot yet but they were no longer on the move. We could see most of the cows staring toward the bull we heard coming in from our right. We kept our slow and steady pace undetected, something was making them nervous. We moved a little closer. In a time like this it's very obvious when the gig is up. Especially with the vocalization of elk. Off they went with loud and disheartening barks, goodbye "Cowboy". I was watching their exit when Emmett angrily said with that Michigan accent "Dude, there's a hunter! Dude, that's Creed!" The bull coming in from our right was a very realistic sounding Creed. It turned out he was moving in on the same elk and almost made it happen as well. We walked over, he was just as surprised to see us. After an exchange of info pertaining to the encounter, we came up with a new game plan for the rest of the day. Emmett and Creed would make a big loop to the right as I did the same to the left, meeting in camp some time after dark. Wanting to get video of each of us, it was my turn to go solo. I also needed to retrieve my bugle tube I had lost the day before, so I hoofed it to where we had been, a few miles away. A few hours and a couple distant bugles later I had my bugle tube and was doing my thing. An occasional locator bugle and a little cow talk here and there. To my surprise I received a text through my garmin inreach that Creed had shot a bull! I thought, wow he shot a bull on the second day. After some clarification between shot or killed, I needed to know where they were. Knowing Creed, I assumed it was an impressive animal, which was a correct assumption. I was several miles away and at first was gonna continue hunting but I couldn't think of much else, so off I went to the opposite side of The Park to lend a hand and see his bull. A short while later I received their coordinates. I sat down to rest and grab a quick bite while determining the best route to take. This was gonna take me a few minutes so I figured I'd rip off a bugle with a variation of some stuff I learned on the internet and see what happened. Shortly after, a bugle came echoing through the woods and it was a deep, growly, mature sounding voice! My head popped up to help pin point his direction. Within a minute there it was again, quite a bit closer! Realizing I needed to move to my left, I scrambled to get my stuff together. Also nearly biting off my own fingers frantically finishing my lunch as most of it was wasted onto the ground. I hurriedly moved to the shoulder of the ridge I was on, to reveal the draw below. I spotted elk moving single file through the vertical gaps between the ponderosas scattered between us. About half the elk at any given time were standing still in survey of their surroundings. With no under brush as cover and watchful eyes from my eleven O'clock to my two O'clock I decided to stay put and assess the situation from where I was, about two hundred yards away. The wind was on my left cheek and the elk were coming up the draw moving from right to left so that was good news. Another hair raising growl let out, scanning through the trees I caught a glimpse of the culprit. I could only see the very back end of him and I was strongly considering continuing towards my hunting partners. Letting down my binos I noticed more elk out in front of the heard, up the draw to my left. There was about thirty elk, including a handful of small bulls. Now at a steady walk, I let them file through my binos as they disappeared up the draw. I was takin aback when the heard bull, bringing up the tale end, entered my view. Wow! It was the same bull I had seen but now I could see everything much better. I was blown away by my initial misjudgment. I also recognized him as a bull we had on camera with amazingly long thirds. I sent a message saying I was on elk, my chase began! Similar as in the morning, I was playing it safe and waiting for them to reach their bedding area. Unfortunately, I messed up and bumped the big bull and a few cows at one point and it became very difficult to keep up for about a mile. If it wasn't for their tracks I wouldn't have guessed correctly on which direction they fled. I caught a glimpse of elk and started closing the gap between us, once again. Their convoy moved over a rise out of sight, allowing my rapid advance to that point. I repeated this move a few times just in time to see the the stragglers topping the next rise. After a little over two miles their pace let up, I followed suit. Knowing I had to be more careful, I studied the wind and cover for stalking possibilities. I was several hundred yards away so I crept forward, constantly doing my best to monitor about sixty eyeballs. Because of the wind, I had to move through an area with zero cover for one hundred yards or so. Literally not even grass. Additionally, I was below them. An advantage I avoid gifting my prey when possible. They had gravitated toward barren land at the edge of The Park, during the chase. As I closed the distance, they were slowly working along to the right, away from me. Twice, a cow nailed me and I couldn't budge for long periods of time. Holding my breath she wouldn't ruin my chances. As they rounded a steep ridge once more I covered more land and was almost within shooting distance as the last elk disappeared. At last they were calm and the bull was screaming back and forth with another mature sounding bull, further away up the mountain. Now I was on the same hill as them but I needed to move through a very noisy looking draw in order to regain visual contact. I knew the elk were close so I couldn't risk it, knowing they could step back around and bust me at any point. I decided to risk my calling after all but to stay conservative. I sent out some cow calls and stood silently for a few minutes. I could hear the bulls and cows continuing their racket so I repeated the system. I was intently focused on the crest of the ridge and I couldn't believe my eyes. My target came slowly strutting back towards me, slowly swaying his impressive head gear! He moved downhill onto a flat bench at the same elevation as me but the draw was still between us, full of loud debris. He displayed the destruction of a five inch thick pine for the next half hour. When he started, I was outside shooting range. Every chance I got, I wiggled through the obstacles between myself and success. He spotted my head poking into view at one point so I slowly backed into hiding and let out some very quiet and soft cow talk with my mouth reed. After regaining his trust, I continued my advance with unnoticeable motion. I was within shooting distance for a few minutes, just getting closer and closer because he only offered a front angle with that poor tree right in the way. My bow and nerves were begging for action but it wasn't time just yet. They got their wish, his feet shifted and before I knew it, covered ten feet to my left. All at once; I drew, stepped out from behind a burnt stump that had been my visual barrier, settled my anchor automatically and broadcasted from my mouth reed one more time. He came to a stop as his massive antlers turned in my direction, I felt dead steady. The appropriate sight pin was unmoving, buried in the kill zone. I squeezed it off and concentrated on the flight of my arrow, it was looking good! For the last portion of flight the arrow entered the shade casted by the canopy of trees where the bull stood. From the transition of light to shade it became invisible and caused a concerning confusion for an instant. The optical illusion caused me to believe the arrow sailed over my targets back by almost a foot. An instant later I witnessed as my arrow darted into fur and flesh. All this happened in about a second but my mind was flying out of control! This absolutely huge animal had no problem being out of sight immediately, it sounded like a locomotive rumbling through the wild as he retreated at a dead run. I tried to replay the events, in my head, for the next half hour. I was only about ninety percent sure I had smoked him. I retraced my steps to my pack and tried to kill some time with a snack and some water, I was too on edge to eat. Then, creeping over, I found his tracks where he had jumped, due to an arrow smacking into him. My eyes followed along for a moment and noticed a spot of blood about ten feet away! I sat down and continued trying to send out the message that I had shot a bull. Creed and I never figured out how to message from Inreach to Inreach so my wife and brother took part in all communication. We would message one of them and they would forward the message on. Another half an hour had gone by so I decided to investigate his path. Blood was never in abundance but it was easy tracking. With huge hoof prints, broken branches and rolled over logs you couldn't miss where he crashed along. After about seventy five yards, due to lack of blood, I almost pulled back to return the next morning for tracking. My mind was taunting me with failure. Failure to myself and to this animal for the possibility of delivering a bad hit, it's torture. I studied the lay of the land and decided to only continue to the edge of the small bowl type ravine I was in. After progressing for about thirty yards, I lost my mind at the sight. My bull was on the ground, unmoving, he had expired in less than one hundred and fifty yards! Out of habit, I finished out the blood trail partially because I was too nervous to approach what had been on my mind around the clock for months. I walked up as I started to lose it. Wow, unreal! I got the word sent out and did my best at some self photography with my phone wedged between a couple branches. Once again, failing to capture anything to the fullest. I had invested in a high quality camera prior to this hunt but, as I previously explained, Creed and Emmett had it at that time. Which turned out to be awesome because the harvest of Creeds bull was all caught on tape, very exciting! By this time they were finishing up hanging all the deboned meat from his bull in game bags. With coordinates I sent out, they grabbed Peaches and Sullivan from camp and headed my way. Upon their arrival around 9:00 that night they were depressed to hear I had only gutted my bull. It was impossible to handle such a big animal by myself. Only to be relieved a moment later that I was joking, haha. I had removed the quarters, deboned everything else and caped him out. While dismantling the carcass I was pleased to discover my worries over the shot were unwarranted. It was a heart shot! I tend to aim above that so it was a bit low after all but, I understood why. When he had turned to walk I thought he was perfectly broadside. When I studied his tracks, later, I realized he was slightly angled away causing an extra four yards between us. I didn't take that into consideration in the heat of the moment. I've hardly hunted anything bigger than deer and when I have killed elk I had plenty of help. I have to admit, field processing an animal of that size by myself was more difficult than I would have imagined. I'm proud to say I didn't waste any meat and none of it hit the dirt. This wasn't easy but after almost five hours of working hard, I was more proud of that accomplishment than I was of harvesting this bull to begin with. Hundreds of pounds of excellent food for my family and friends to enjoy for many months to come! After Creed and Emmett passed a saddling inspection with flying colors, we worked together loading everything up. We took turns carrying the antlers by hand to avoid any wrecks in the dark and headed for camp. We didn't get to bed until after 1:00 in the morning and got up first thing to retrieve Creeds bull. From the time we squeezed the trigger there was constant hard work for days getting everything packed out, twenty miles to our vehicles. It was all worth it. I used both mules that day to ride and lead, getting Creed's meat hauled out and put in a freezer at a friends house who lives nearby. My dad came running, from back home, when he heard the news and was anxiously waiting at the trailhead upon my arrival. We spent the night there and headed to camp the next morning. While I was gone, Creed and Emmett deboned the quarters from my elk and got camp ready to pack out. We kept my meat cool by submerging it under the running water of the cool mountain creek that flowed by our camp. This worked wonderfully, the meat is excellent and stayed cool to the touch. Never even emitting a questionable smell throughout the eight hour haul. On the fifth of September, we got up early for the long day of getting packed out and going home. I had become very home sick and couldn't wait to see my wife and kids. Show them my bull and tell them stories about the adventure. They can't wait to go on the more serious trips like this one. I also realized I had hardly eaten sense tagging out, I simply forgot to. Emmett also forgot to drink water. On top of dehydration, being from Michigan and not used to our climate, he found himself in a dangerous spot. On the way out, still several miles from the truck, his body literally started shutting down and worried us all very much. My dad started forcing water into him and he recovered well, to all our relief. Paradise or not, wild country can be non forgiving and harsh at any moment. We'll all miss it until we hopefully are fortunate enough for another visit. Possibly with a rare tag in someone's pocket once again. Until then, we can dream of a walk in The Park, in the depths of the Gila Wilderness! I'd like to thank my dad. We couldn't have done this without all of his help and willingness to do what's needed for such an amazing experience. He prepared in various ways, some of which I'm probably not even aware of, so everything would come off as planned. Also, a huge thanks to Emmett, he drove for days sleeping in his pickup some of the way to be there for Creed and I. He was great company and is welcome in my camp or home any time. Many thanks to Creed, he is a great hunting partner and I'm lucky to have a friend with his character. He has an unwavering appreciation and respect for the wild critters we hunt and wildlife in general. I'm thankful to my brother Caleb, for the use of two of his mules. He was going to ride in and hunt with us for a few days but we both tagged out before then. He drew the second hunt in NM this year, in another unit, that I'll be joining for a three day weekend. I can't wait! Above all, I would like to thank my wife for all her support. I have often seen hunters that had a spouse or someone in their life that handed out grief, concerning their way of life. Not understanding their natural draw to wild places. I couldn't imagine obtaining the happy success I experience under those tense conditions. Also, her and our kids always enjoy jumping in to help process meat, which I think is awesome! Thanks to everyone for reading, I hope it was enjoyable. Good luck to everyone with your hunts, stay safe and shoot straight!

Wandering the new and wide open grounds of what seamed like endless desolation with my brother, Caleb, wasn't similar to any hunting I've done. We had already been walking for days, occasionally reaching enough of a rise in the rolling topography to see a few more miles of the same color rock and sparse vegetation. Although, snaking through it, here and there, were cliffs made up from many years of water flow in washes and what the maps refer to as "rivers", even with the absence of water for a majority of each year. Along with each new vantage, earned by sore feet and legs, came the hope for a sighting of our nomadic prey. Of this foreign animal we knew very little, basically just what we came to believe through word of mouth and limited research. We had a decent amount of information going into this hunt but like any other subject, there's plenty of info, the trick is separating accurate from false. The only consistent way we have found to achieve this is with boots on the ground and eyes behind the glass. Late nights walking back to camp or the truck, hours after dark. We were beat, how could we go so many days without even laying our eyes on a New Mexico Barbary Sheep (Aoudad) and expect Caleb to fill his rifle tag and take one home. After laying down one night in the freezing temperatures with nothing but a breathing channel exposed to the night air, I was held hostage by my hunting partners night howling that I've been pestered with since childhood. Always jealous of Caleb's ability to immediately be asleep and snoring, I remained awake. Without motion, going over this hunt with detailed consideration. It was time for a change in landscape. We discussed our options, hours before daylight, the next morning and high tailed it for different country. The several combined units for this hunt makes up an absolutely massive chunk of real estate, scattered with private land. We had to avoid the often non fenced, non posted, private land with extreme care. In NM, it's each hunters responsibility to be capable enough with a GPS or map to stay out of court for trespassing. A serious offense, especially if you've dropped an animal. So, now we found ourselves in habitat the opposite of what we had been hunting. Most of this maze of deep canyons clustered with sheer cliffs was impassable for humans. We carefully navigated along the ridges from the top of the mountain where, fortunately, a rough road granted us access. We both glassed until our eyes were burnt from the intense wind that apparently never rests in this area. Two days later we were in awe that our efforts to provide Caleb with a shot were still without reward. No Barbary Sheep were found. What the "heck" can we do!!!Another night spent away from home and my warm bed. Once again laying in the pitch black. Too tired, thirsty and confused to sleep. Listening to the consistent inhale of my beloved brothers nasal situation. We had both, long since recognized my good fortune on opening day. Now, I recall those unbelievable and exciting events in my minds eye. Accustomed to hiking, glassing, spotting, stalking and killing coues deer in Arizona, we topped our first hill of the hunt with long awaited excitement. Soon realizing this wouldn't be the meticulous, picking apart, type of glassing we were used to. By 8:00 we were already aways from our trucks, surveying from our third hilltop. I spoke up about some sheep I discovered, they looked about a mile away. We studied them for a little while, this being the first either of us had ever seen in the wild, it was interesting to note their behavior. There was eleven in the group and possibly a couple were rams. We had rifle tags for either sex but we had agreed to hold out for any ram. Both females and males grow horns and from a distance it can be difficult to tell the difference, for beginners especially. Hearing from other people that these crazy looking things were extremely flighty and had incredible vision. We decided to carefully retreat from our lookout and circle around in order to advance while out of sight. After covering nearly a mile we realized Caleb's range finder still wouldn't reach half way to our destination. It's advertised as a 1600 yard tool. To say the least we were terrible at judging distance in this barren place. I've never even hunted antelope and their typical range would be the closest example of our surroundings. We navigated through several gullies and modest changes of elevation trying to remain hidden. As we reached our new goal we slowly gained vision over the horizon. We were now positioned with a deep rocky gorge between us and the sheep. It was impossible not to spot them with our naked eyes at this distance. A quick check, it came back at roughly 400 yards. A chip shot for Caleb with his 7mm mag but, still a bit outside my comfort zone with my stick flinger. Knowing we had the entire month of February to return to NM on the weekends, after our initial week long trip. I had decided to give it a chance with my bow for the first half of the days I could hunt. Everything I could find to read or watch about Aoudad hunting wasn't encouraging of this challenge. As Caleb set up to shoot, I studied my stalk options and came up with a plan. We checked the GPS one more time to confirm we were still within the fairly small section of public land. I told him not to hesitate to fill his tag with what turned out to be only one ram in this group, if I bumped them during my attempt to get within range. Although only about 400 yards away, it was necessary for me to back out of sight again and follow the landscape way around for possibly over a mile walk in total, to get all the variables in my favor. Caleb patiently waited for me to appear from over the rocks along the opposing ridge. If these Aoudad began to move off at any point he was game for putting this ram in his freezer but later he would share how excited he got when my head suddenly floated into view on the horizon above the sheep. I started creeping down hill towards the wary critters. At this point I was glad to see my landmarks had served me well for the blind approach. I came over, slowing exposing the hillside below me and started to see the yellowish/orangish shapes through the short shrubs and grass. Some were bedded and I couldn't see the ram so I continued forward. I had assumed this stalk wouldn't work out when I started but figured since we found the opportunity so early in the hunt, there would be more chances often. As I closed the distance I spotted my shooter once I was about 130 yards from him. Some of the ewes were bedded and the rest were lazily grazing, all in close proximity. Constantly scanning each animal, I inched closer for a long while. There was minimal breeze but it was in my face and I had elevation in my favor as well. The only problem was a complete lack of cover. I worked to get close for probably an hour and was disappointed to realize I was still over 100 yards away. Unfortunately, the sheep were also slowly working their way down hill. I had practiced more than ever for a long shot in preparation for this hunt, due to their elusive reputation and the possibility of open terrain. I ranged the ram, he was standing quartered away at 102 yards. I observed that I was having no issue with buck fever. The wind was basically dead and what remained was straight in my face. I glanced across the ravine at the statue behind his glass on a tripod. Little did I know, Caleb's heart was racing. I'd been smoking my target beyond this distance at home, with my broadheads. My live target in that moment stood his ground, completely unaware of my contemplation. I subconsciously went through my mental checklist and felt a flutter in my stomach. I studied the ground between us and knew there was no getting closer. With 22 elite eyes doing their best to survive predators, I wondered how I even got to where I was. Delaying my next step was coming to an end. A few ewes took small steps, they were moving away. I was convinced I could make this shot but I'll be honest. I'm a skeptic for long shots, on living creatures. My prey was clueless, soaking up the sun in the wide open. Although, in my experience, being in the open exposed to this many animals, getting busted is only a matter of time. My chance was evaporating every second. The ram took a few steps away and then turned broadside, looking downhill at his ladies that were becoming distant. I thought "ok 104". Caleb about lost it when I rose from my position and drew my bow. Settling my last bit of movement, my pin sunk into his bread basket. Everything was perfect, I felt I could responsibly send the deadly arrow. My bow suddenly sprang and I was almost shocked to see my arrow way above the ground, arching onward! It traveled so far I lost it in flight but the ram stood for impact. I glimpsed fletchings bouncing along beside his body as he rapidly disappeared over the crest. I was suddenly aware of my pounding heart and felt nervously sick. I stood still and put in another arrow. The rest of the sheep hadn't run, they jumped around a bit and stared in all directions trying to figure out what happened. They moved uphill, toward me and came to within 70 yards! I watched for the ram but counted only 10 heads over and over. Caleb was doing the same thing, the ram had darted into the draw out of view but it happened so fast. We weren't sure if he had returned to the others. They finally spotted me and wasted no more time. Those animals move amazingly through anything. They were across a cliff that skirted the deep, narrow canyon and out of sight within seconds. I took a deep breath after once again counting 10 animals, as they disappeared. Caleb and I each examined up and down the gorge that separated us, carefully from each of our positions for about 30 minutes. No movement. He gathered his gear and snuck my way. I slowly crept toward the point of impact, reaching it provided zero satisfaction. I moved in the direction of the rams exit, no tracks, no blood, no sheep, no good. I was disappointed in myself but there was still a chance. We both saw the arrow in his side but were unsure of its exact location. Caleb was coming across the very bottom of the deep rocky cut as I went to meet him. Now at only a short distance, we traded enough info to learn we were both unsure of my shot results. He excitedly exclaimed about being able to see my arrow through his binos coming toward the sheep from the opposite side. He said it looked like I smoked him but it was hard to tell because the ram immediately ran down, out of sight. Caleb had barely been peeking over his ridge, in fear of spooking them. Hope was dwindling as I cautiously worked down through the rocks for the last bit, to reach the bottom. Both our mental states of mind did a 180 and a couple back flips when I noticed the dead ram in some bear grass a short ways ahead! I erupted and Caleb almost hurt himself getting through the terrain to reach me. After some big hugs and coming back to earth I yelled "Dude, I just killed a Barbary Sheep with my bow!" We soaked in the moment, exchanging details of the whole ordeal. I've been fortunate to harvest a number of big game animals with my bow over the last few years. All in the same spot and stalk fashion but usually it has happened while solo. It was so very special for me to share this experience with my brother and not only that, he actually got to watch the whole thing. We decided to carry the sheep, out of the canyon, to get pictures showing the land we were hunting in. Major chore, they're heavier than they look. Then we worked quickly carving meat and packing up. We were both exhausted once we reached the trucks several miles away. With some relief, we figured, surely we could find Caleb a sheep right away and head home. There was no camp, we had simply parked on the shoulder of a county road at 10:00 the night before and gone to bed. It was our first time in the unit because, regrettably, our work schedules and prior commitments made scouting impossible this time. We just knew there was a section of public land in one direction, that hopefully held some of these mysterious Barbary Sheep! I woke up later that month still shaking my head with disbelief and realized I was quite cold. Caleb was getting ready for another day of trying to grind out success. I rolled out of my sleeping bag to prepared our oatmeal. We hunted the rest of the days we planned but never fired a shot. One time, Caleb spotted two running sheep about five miles away for just a few seconds. That's the only other sighting we had. Besides the impressive herd of mature rams we got to observe right in the middle of our hunting area, on the other side of an eight foot fence! At only a couple hundred yards they paid little mind, we could have blundered within bow range of these pets. All this took place back in February of this year. Seven months later I was sitting around with my kids telling stories and they insisted to hear about the cool looking euro mount once again. Grabbing it off the wall brought back all those memories and I couldn't help but write something up, after all. I'm not necessarily for long range shooting at animals, that's what has kept me from feeling as good about that hunt all this time. I'm glad it worked out for that amazing animal to not have suffered but it's a lot of arrow flight time for one step to cause a bad hit. As it was, the double lung dropped him within 80 yards! As always, I was able to enjoy this hunt to the fullest knowing I had the support of my amazing wife and would like to thank her for everything. Her whitetail hunt in AZ is next, wish us luck! Thanks for reading and if anyone is planning an Aoudad hunt, I wish you the best of luck!

Thanks, I appreciate that! Well, I've sense changed my arrow setup but at that time I was shooting Easton Axis. An innerloc shapeshifter broadhead. Hoyt defiant bow with a 5 pin slider. I've gone to black eagle arrows for now, 402 grains plus 100 grain broadhead at 280 fps. Lots of energy and great in wind!

Thanks guys. I encourage anyone looking to hunt something new to give it a try. They're really cool animals! Although, if we get drawn again, I plan to put in some serious scouting.

Congrats on an awesome bull! Good job. I enjoyed the story and video as always.

My brother was able to get it done in NM on the day 6! He showed up a week early to scout and worked his butt off for this bull. I was able to hunt with him for four days but after numerous close calls, I had to return to work. He slipped in and smoked his bull at 61 yards with a perfect shot the morning after I left. I wish I could have been there for the beginning of his archery addiction. He's rifle hunted a lot but he told me watching that arrow hit its mark was the coolest thing he'd ever seen!

Thanks everyone! It was definitely high quality fun I'll never forget. I can't wait to have a tag again. Possibly in another state. Too easy to grow old waiting for elk tags in AZ. At least pretty soon my kids will be putting in too! Headed back to NM for my brother and bro in laws hunt this weekend, wish us luck. Crazy low odds we drew at all, let alone separately! Thanks again and good luck to everyone in the field.

Peaking past the rock I had snuck towards for the last couple hours I knew it was a matter of time before an opportunity presented itself. Knowing the buck was truly of the maturity I go into primitive country for and a rare find, my nerves were frazzled with anticipation. Held up in a shallow pocket hiding from the intense wind he was being harassed by a little buck constantly pestering his wishes for seclusion with the prize doe. Little did he know that young buck was the lesser of nearby problems. Another ripple in his plans was patiently waiting at the edge of shooting range amongst the boulders down wind. With an arrow knocked and range finder being gripped with cold white knuckles I watched this impressive show of nature at its finest. The Coues whitetail rut in the desert sky island mountains where the best deer on earth fight to pass on their genes and survive a rough world covered with adverse habitat and predators. That's my place in this equation, a predator. Doing everything I can within law and ethics to tilt success in my direction. All I needed was a break in the wind or for the deer to close the gap between us. Rain was coming down sideways directly into my freezing face. An especially violent burst of wind ripped the hat off my head and launched it straight up into the air while the buck was facing me. The movement caught his eyes that were now drilling holes in me with suspicion. Suddenly action was necessary and I was drawn trying to settle my pin on the target as my accuracy was being tugged at by a fierce wind. I squeezed off the shot and immediately knew it was over. I had mixed emotions watching as an arrow I'd worked so hard to deliver zinged past the trophy leaving what I'd been dreaming of unscathed. At the last instant a gust of side wind altered my form just enough to send the arrow a few inches from driving my broadhead into the kill zone. On one hand I felt utterly hopeless and letdown that I could drop the ball in such a critical moment. Although, on the other hand this defeat was countered by relief of knowing it was a clean miss. There's nothing worse than wasting an animal with a bad hit that may kill it but not quickly enough to recover it for the dinner table or the wall of memories and accomplishments. This episode would replay in my head many times and haunt me for the rest of he season or longer. It's a far and difficult walk in the dark back to the truck after such a thing. It's funny somehow, with an extra 80 pounds or so the walk is no big deal, if it goes differently in that moment of truth. Archery spot and stalk hunting coues deer on public land wouldn't be what it is without much disappointment to elevate the rare success. This was only January 1st and I knew it couldn't be that easy. At least one close call was out of the way in order to get to my buck! Unable to relocate that deer I moved on to other plans I had for the one month long season. Giving myself a chance to walk, and see, over new ridge lines is part of this addiction so I did my best to put that missed opportunity behind me to pursue another. A week later with several spots checked off the list my hunting partner Creed and I decided to execute a three day backpack hunt we've been discussing for quite some time. Creed had already tagged out, harvesting an impressive mule deer but was generous enough to lend me a hand as a spotter for this trip. Many miles, two and half days and about 180 coues deer later we were running out of coues country near the flats at our pickup location. We saw only one buck we thought was over four years old and wouldn't you know it was one of the only deer that saw us before we saw him. All I had to show for another weekend was a wrecked bow. Walking to our next designated camp spot on the last night I lost my footing, like so many times before, but this time my reflex to protect my bow wasn't fast enough causing it to crash into rocks. The next day surprisingly it was still functional and accurate, I thought. Then something I never expected occurred, I decided to stalk a mule deer. Creed had spotted a nice one over a mile away out in the flats. Once I had crawled within 45 yards I drew back and grunted to stand him up. I took careful aim and felt great, with basically no wind or obstacles to worry about. He stood broadside as I watched my arrow sail past him. As it turned out my bow and site were more damaged than I thought and it was shooting all over the place. This discovery ended our trip a half day early. A big thanks to Creed's wife for taking the time to come pick us up and give us a ride back to our vehicles. That next week she harvested her first deer with a bow! A really cool coues buck at close range, spot and stalk, with Creed at her side, so awesome! As soon as I got home I started getting things tightened and tuned back up on my bow. After several shots, I reached full draw and it exploded as a limb went flying and the string smacked my arm. I couldn't believe my eyes, looking at what was left in my hands. Even more, I could imagine January slipping away before it was repaired. I had apparently damaged the string when I fell, is my best guess, and it finally snapped. I started the process with Bull Basin Archery Shop in Tucson and they did everything they could for a prompt solution, as always. In the meantime I pulled out my old bow I had kept as my backup and wiped the dust off of it. I've done just fine with this bow in the past and felt a little spark of excitement to give it another chance to shine! My dad and his hounds are a mountain lions worst enemy wreaking havoc on their population with unforgiving pursuit which benefits us both. Occasionally receiving a tip from the other as to the location of sign, or in this case "Cody I found your buck"! With careful reference and explanation we were confident I could get into where he saw "the kind of buck your after". Earlier in the month I had spent two days looking for this buck but couldn't seem to turn him up. Now a few weeks later I returned with a new plan to glass it all again. Coming in from a different angle and to look at a lot of new country further in too. This turned out to be one of the least eventful mornings I've ever had so I just kept moving, dissecting pocket after canyon after hillside of beautiful coues paradise. Unfortunately I came to the conclusion I either forgot how to spot deer or they all died. As I looked around while hiking I glanced over at a distant ridge that brought back a welcomed memory of my daughter finding her first shed, from the back of a trustworthy mule. It was a couple years prior while we were lion hunting with the old man. She about fell off her mule with excitement and I was ecstatic from her reaction. The same day I narrowly escaped the strike of a rattler as I was on foot and to this day she asks me if I remember when it happened , saying that I "screamed like a girl"! Words she conveniently got from her Papa, thanks a lot Dad. Then I was brought back to the present with burning muscles and sore feet wondering what was going on today with the lack of deer. Times like these always confuse me but after some encouragement through text from my brother Caleb and friend Creed, I continued my search for what had to be somewhere in front of me. Caleb also advised me not to fall and break my bow so that was helpful. I used to hike insane distances while hunting but over the years I've learned the trick is in glassing. For me anyways what has done me well is to hike quite a bit still but usually mostly before daylight to get where I wanna hunt and then glass most of the day, just changing vantage points periodically. Regardless, nothing seamed to be panning out deer and before I knew it I was near the top of those gigantic mountains. It was about noon so I decided to glass real quick one more time before eating lunch. The wind had come in hard so I put my nose straight at it and started picking apart the amazing real estate. Everything out to about 1000 yards. Within a short time my count for the day rapidly hit nearly 20 deer and I spotted a bedded buck on the furthest hill! I watched him a bit and took some video through my brothers spotter that he was nice enough to lend me. I looked around a while longer partially due to initially under judging him. Nothing else surfaced so I decided to cut the distance by moving through the first canyon between the buck and I, getting on the low ridge between us. After hustling to the new lookout, it had been about 30 minutes. I found the buck still bedded, now at 350 yards. Two deer I spooked during my approach were running right towards him. He got up and some semi serious rutting action started up with him lip curling after a doe, a spike was in the mix increasing commotion as well. I watched them long enough to decide they weren't going anywhere while coming up with a new plan. Initially coming from below him would have worked but once he started chasing the doe, all three deer ended up near the top of the ridge. Between the several options I had now the best one was of course, the most difficult and the most time consuming. I needed to circle way around the high point to my right and down along the backside of the ridge the deer were on. This would put everything needed for a successful stalk in my favor. Having the wind from that angle I wouldn't have to worry about his nose at all. His ears wound be a minimal threat and his eyes wouldn't be a problem until I was about 60 yards away. Noting a handful of landmarks I would need during my advance on the ridge line and the group of trees where he had now re bedded, I took off. This half loop was steep and rough but needed to be knocked out quick considering I wouldn't be able to see the deer for about 45 minutes. By the time I got to the high point I crept to the edge of a cliff with burning legs and lungs, for an update on his location. He was bedded a little different now but in the same thicket indicating he had probably jumped up to chase the spike away from the bedded doe. The spike was standing about 20 yards away staring at his own predicament. I eased out of sight and carefully continued my circle to a specific rock that still looked like a good place to wait for a shot. Angling across the ridge now I peaked over every 30 yards or so to make sure they weren't coming towards me. The wind was coming from my right more than I had hoped, if they started my way without me knowing all would be lost. Finally I eased up to my final land mark. My view was different now into the thicket and I thought he was gone at first. I ranged where he should be, 60 yards. I slowly focused through the branches with my binos trying to pick him out. There it was, the tip of an antler, unmoving. I looked closer and realized I could see patches of fur through the vegetation. He hadn't moved and was clueless at 60 yards. The wind was whipping past me and almost took my hat off! I quickly grabbed it and flipped it around backwards shaking my head, thinking "you shouldn't have to learn that one twice"! I lowered to a crawl and inched around the boulder and started forward. I made it to the next low rock and ranged again, 46 yards. I prepared an arrow and did a quick scan over my gear; release, broadhead, sights, peep site, etc. I waited a few minutes and was having deja vu. A big buck with a doe and a tormenting youngster hiding from the weather. With me on the sidelines behind a rock shaking in my boots. I realized my mouth felt like I had just munched on chalk, regretting not taking a drink before leaving my pack. I tried to figure out what might cost me this deer and recalled three weeks earlier when I rushed a shot in high winds. The rock I was behind was more like a shelf overlooking the inhabited pocket below. The rock shelf ran down hill and away from the deer to my left. I would have to move further away back out to 50 yards but I could stay undetected by sliding along behind it to get below this deafening wind. In examination of this idea I believe I lifted my head too high. I heard rustling and hooves pounding. Darting my eyes toward the noise I saw the spike only 15 feet away sprinting away from me. Oh no, flagging his tail he ran right past the bigger buck. I saw grey bodies race away in multiple directions. As deer disappeared over the crest of the hill I didn't notice a mass of antlers on any of them. I glanced all around and my eyes locked on the big buck staring in my direction, he had stood up and takin a few steps. Standing slightly quartered away, his vitals were at the ends of branches but there was a shot. I drew back in a low position out of sight. As I raised above the rock just enough to clear a shot his head jolted in recognition. I hadn't had time to move out of the wind and now it was costing me once again. My pin was wobbling in no less than a four foot pattern in and out of the grey shape in the background. I held it for I think about 15 seconds when the occasional break in the wind came just in time. I felt a relaxing moment replace rigidness throughout my body and time stood still. Pressure had started beneath my trigger finger. The bow sprang with energy sending the arrow on course. The buck became unglued with a desperate jump and was gone an instant later. I saw a flash of fletchings somewhere in the confusion and was unsure. I jumped up on the rock and held my breath in study of the bowl below me. A glimpse of movement caught my eye around 150 yards away. I noticed immediately it was the buck crashing to the ground, out of sight into tall yellow grass! My body was in pain from stress and I about fell off the rock face! Yardage updates had gone into a group text all along and now I sent "I just shot him", "saw him drop". This is sort of foolish to do during a stalk but I've learned it helps keep me calm. I called my wife to share the news who also told some excited kids. While talking to Creed and Caleb and my Dad I returned along my path to retrieve my pack a short ways. Twenty minutes went by and I decided that was long enough considering what I witnessed moments after the shot. I went to the bucks bed and right away noticed blood everywhere on the off side of where he had been standing when shot. Within ten feet on the blood trail was a deer shed sprayed with blood, that's a first and maybe last for me. I was giggling like a child with satisfaction of the evidence before me. I worked my way along, straight down hill in disbelief of the sheer drop off leaps this deer made. Fairly soon I could see a main beam sticking up a short ways off. I could hardly contain myself as I finally laid my hands on this elusive critter I can't get enough of. Examining my shot I couldn't have been more pleased, the entrance was in the rib cage and the exit was directly behind the opposite shoulder, double lung! Soaking in these moments is what it's all about. Unfortunately I was in a hurry to take decent pictures with my phone, using the timer, because it was dying fast. Time for the real work. I hung him from an oak branch and removed the meat into my pack and loaded everything else. It was just getting dark once I finished. I struggling for a minute to get my pack on and get stood up. The trip down would be on a ridge I'd never been on and now I know why. Negotiating myself with this load down through dozens of cliffs in the dark for the next few hours was quite a chore. By the time I reached my truck I thought I would collapse. Then it started raining and snowing, just in time, headed for home. I'd like to thank Caleb and Creed for all the support that goes back and forth, it's nice to share such a passion with great friends and family. Big thanks to my dad who gave me the tip to look for a different deer that led me to finding my latest trophy. Hopefully I find the deer he saw, next year, according to his description it's one worth dedicated time to locate. Also, growing up in the outdoors and working hard under his watch made my success at harvesting wildlife more possible. Above all I'd like to recognize my wife for being awesome mostly but also for her support in life. I couldn't imagine blundering through it without her and our amazing kids. Well, at least I only have to wait another 342 days for the next January 1st..!

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Thanks everyone! Figured I'd share how the mount turned out, I'm very happy with it! The only downside to tagging out in January is here in a couple weeks during this next archery season when you're left without a tag. That's alright, I'll take it. Good luck to those of you with tags.

Lots of great advice here so far. When you spot a buck you don't have to go after him right away. You can occasionally check on him while looking for more deer and possibly find something in a more stalkable location or until he's moved to a better spot. Also knowing of any other deer in the area can be critical during your stalk. I'd say persistence is possibly the biggest factor, with that you'll eventually learn what anyone could tell you. Just to give you a heads up what you could be up against, I tried for a full three years before I harvested a coues with my bow and I'd bet I was within 100 yards of probably 100 bucks before it finally worked, I've talked to guys who are still trying after 10 years or longer. Just try to learn something every time and learn to enjoy "failure". Even now our rule of thumb is to put in at least 10 stalks to have one work out. Don't be afraid to travel all the way around a long ways to get on the right side while staying out of sight. Once committed to a stalk, take your time, if you rush it you have to find another deer anyway and your right back where you were before, so just assume the rest of the day is gone once stalking a deer. A saying my dad taught me goes through my head; By the inch it's a cinch, by the yard it's hard. Inch your way when necessary, and sometimes an inch at a time is way too fast. Just keep failing until you don't and you'll eventually learn to make the countless decisions on a stalk automatically. Also, it's been mentioned but practice a lot with your bow (with your broadheads!) as far as you can to make shorter shots easier. Don't send an arrow unless you're confident. It's not worth wounding one of these majestic critters. Have fun and enjoy every second of it, even when it's miserable. Stick with your goal at spot and stalking a coues with your bow and well... you'll know all about it by then. Good luck!

Best Rifle Coues 2015 Best Archery Coues 2016 Side by side With some of the others

I know a man who grew up hunting, fishing, camping, packing and practically living in the wilderness with his parents and siblings. Also a large part of his upbringing was to work harder than he played. Combining all that with his unending commitment to his own family, throughout his young adult life, there was very little time for self serving hobbies. Hunting for himself took the back burners and although spending time in the woods with a tag and rifle, these occasions were never much about filling those tags. Instead his focus was on the eight noisy feet that trailed his lead through the woods and through life itself. When finally his last child reached adulthood his life was feeling a shift that brought mixed emotions. Everything he poured himself into for almost 3 decades was worth every second, none would be regretted, but all that was winding down. With a more calm household and weekends not filled with teaching his kids to work, sports and birthdays; lake, snow, camping and hunting trips, etc. It was time for a well deserved idea for himself. Naturally being drawn to challenge, it fit perfectly that his personality would lead to such a passion as dry range free lance lion hunting. My Dad began his journey into this lifestyle about twelve years ago and it has been far from easy. Near the end of and just after high school, I was fortunate enough to be in the mix of it all at first. I can't tell you how many times I would have said fooey on it. After about two years of running into dead ends we caught our first glimpse of a lion, as it sprinted away. Our two best hounds at that time were close behind it, Nelly was so old and fat all she could catch was a nap, and the puppy on her heels was probably just opening out of pure confusion. We never saw that lion again, one of countless disappointments. Anyone who successfully raises dogs to catch lions in these desert mountains, my hats off to you. Besides that, scrambling your way towards the commotion and doing what it takes to wrap a tag around ones leg is a whole other feat in itself. Over time my dad has acquired great friends and mentors that have supported his dream in different ways. Offering sound advice and assistance in building a dependable pack. His systems have evolved into a working art. To an outsider on their first excursion, along for a ride, every aspect may seam frantic and messy. Getting up many hours before the sun, saddling mules, equipping and loading dogs, long rough drives and over a dozen hounds erupting at once! Everything worth doing has ups and downs and I can witness this is very true for this lion hunter. Wonderful dogs he loved, meeting a sudden end. While doing what they love, with the master they love trying to keep up. Having also worked for years with breeding stalk to come up with his ultimate mule. Then to have it killed by bees as he himself narrowly escaped with hundreds of stingers pumping into him. The worst of his near fatal bee encounters. Countless stories of rattle snakes, bucking equine, rock slides, surprise weather, riding into the night and next morning. Injured dogs, mules, people and pride. Even so, all of this shadowed by success. Success brought on by utter determination and rejection of failure. A trait that comes down through people that settle wild places and build something from nothing. A mindset worth admiration in my book. My dad lives his life this way so it's no surprise his "retirement hobby" is such. These some years later, we all now have our stories of lion hunting. Everyone who's been along for some small part has their stories. My brother, Caleb, can share a time he couldn't believe his eyes. Watching a machete, usually used for trail clearing, swipe through the air near the feet of my dads mule. Just in time to cut off a rattlers head before it's strike connected. Never slowing down or even acknowledging what happened my dad rode on through the thicket, returning the cutting tool to its sheath on his saddle! Our brother, John, was able to offer a show one day as his own mule became air born multiple times, in huge lunges, on a steep rock slide. My dad got a front row seat and laughs when he tells the story. His oldest son just egged the knothead mule on, yelling in laughter! Our sister, Brianna, was raised with three relentless brothers, her lion hunts have been full bore as well. She has her recollection of run away mules and carrying beggar soup hounds back to the truck on her saddle horn. Even when it's necessary the dog seldom sees it that way, which makes those long rides taxing for even a tough and skilled rider. Her daughter, Grace, is the oldest grandkid. At ten years old she already bagged herself a lion. Our mom has lived her entire adult life and spent much of her childhood near her husband. Knowing him not to be a loud or obnoxious man, she was in disbelief after a day of lion hunting. Hearing him yell at adolescent puppies all day was more than she'd heard him raise his voice the rest of their life combined. It should also be noted that being the wife of a lion hunter is no walk in the park. Over the years she has experienced some unique phone conversations. One hot, dry summer day, with little hope to run anything my dad called her to let her know the morning was uneventful and he'd be home in time for church. Literally within a few minutes of hanging up he was calling her back. With a deafening canine choir in the background he expressed what had just taken place. A lion surfaced from the dense vegetation he was riding through and went up a tree, only about 10 feet from him. To the surprise of the hounds, lion, mule and my dad they'd all but stumbled onto the cats day bed! Another time, he was answering any calls from my mom, regardless of timing because she was in Germany. Wouldn't you know it, the timing was bad. That phone call got cut short against his will and left her wondering for a while. Discovering later that with just some mild injuries, the day ended without any major issues. One December day my friend Creed and I were riding along behind my dad. It was mid morning, we were near the top of some rough and wild border country. My dad answered a phone call and we heard one side of the conversation; "hey daughter" "Oh yeah, thanks for calling me!" "Ok, love you bye" We were more or less minding our own business but couldn't help watching in wonderment due to his frantic reaction. He immediately made a call and left a message along these lines; "Hey babe, happy anniversary. Alright, I love you, bye" Both Creed and I about fell off our mules laughing. We went on that day to catch a big tom, saving many deer. Also of course benefiting ranchers within the approximate 250 mile range of these proficient predators. A few years before, the day my dad treed his first lion, was two weeks before my wedding. I'll always remember my trembling fiancé, holding the .45 long colt, to fire a pistol for the first time. As she drew down on what my dad had been obsessing over for so long we held our breath as the first shot had no result. Then another shot rang out, nothing. I was a little ways from her and my dad, ten feet below the lion, with my Springfield .45 trained on its vitals. I delivered a few reassuring words to calm her nerves, then, shot three connected perfectly. The hero of the day, finally putting a rug on the wall and meat in our freezer, was a little red dog named Button. She went on to help catch many more, when she wasn't being reprimanded for trashing on Chula's (coatimundis). A problem he's since worked hard to reduce from his pack and remove from his mature lion dogs that lead the show. Having owned and/or operated business since he was young, my dad has chosen not to turn this into a profitable endeavor. Luckily, for many friends and family over the years, countless stories have been formed because of that. Hunters have come from Vermont, Connecticut, Alaska, Iowa, Texas and other places for a few rides, and come to find out, a chance to never be the same. Always getting more than they expected and often shaking their head in disbelief as they depart. Spending the near future with sore muscles, tattered skin, bloodshot eyes and ruined cloths! The important impact lasts much longer, it goes deeper than that. Spend a few days or weeks or years experiencing it and it'll be quicker than me trying to explain. Speaking of making memories and sharing experiences, it's time for why I started typing this afternoon in the first place. As my predecessors, I feel the responsibility and uncontrollable desire to provide my own kids with example and guidance. I am fortunate enough to have married up in the values of patience, kindness, understanding and so much more. Our oldest child is seven and she has been counting down the time until she can legally hunt, for several years. Although one has to be ten years old in Arizona to have a tag, there's no reason not to go along before then. This is the third season Adalie has joined her "Papa" and I lion hunting . Also for deer scouting trips and hunts. With her due diligence in place it was time to see a mountain lion! We decided to hit a spot she'd been before because it's not too brushy, which helps kids stay in the saddle. Off we went as a train of excitement. Trailing the old man astride his powerful animal, holding back my fast stepping thoroughbred mule, just like old times. Continuing the dream with a wide eyed girl, on her old sure footed fellow named Applejack, between us. Surrounded by highly sensitive noses hovering the desert floor at an easy jog, we covered the short distance to the foot of the sky island mountain. My own hunting passion has shifted to the herbivores of these rocky ranges over the last few years. So as we approached the climb my mind started wondering what I could be glassing up. Prime time was arriving soon from over the eastern horizon. We were on a different mission on this cool morning though and as we made contact with the first little rise, an explosion of bawling brought my thoughts back. Excitement came across my daughters face just as suddenly and that was a great thrill for me. Within about two hours and as many miles, the three of us were a short distance from our hitched equine. Standing on a boulder, admiring the impressive cat who was lounging in a mature oak. With insane dogs losing there minds more every second, at their success. It was too loud to talk without yelling. I jumped to a different boulder to improve my shot angle and brought the racket to an end with one close range shot. After doing our best taking pictures, we got everything set and lined out for the truck. We dropped the lion off and made another loop, a little higher up to retrieve a trail camera I set the month before, during the archery deer season. Turns out this was near the deep canyon where my Grandpa tagged a mature lion a couple years prior. I received the play by play of that hunt from my dad as he recalled the eventful day. His Pop was pushing 80 years old at the time and still harvesting critters out of primitive habitat! Waiting on some dogs at one point, Adalie shared a nap under a mesquite with a good ol hound dog named Mouse. One of my favorite activities, falling asleep in the sun after getting into a place traveled by few. Another memory for the bank, one my dad or I will never forget. As for my daughter she has talked of little else since the incident. She's looking forward to the next ride and has her younger brothers jealous with her description of the day. Her very own, lion hunting story! I feel very proud to take part in everything at play here. Conserving and managing wildlife in a responsible, rightfully legal, way. This is just a bonus to the main theme. Passing the torch, conserving a way of American life at it's finest. Carrying on tradition, making memories and above all, making kids into capable men and women. Not only in nature, but as well as in whatever way of life they seek. It all started long ago and shouldn't be slowing down any time soon. Here was a day spent in the same place two seasons ago when Adalie found her first Coues deer shed! I had just barely avoided a rattlesnake bite. For a second my dad and I thought there was another snake because she lost her mind when she spotted the shed. It was awesome! She keeps it on her dresser and it's no laughing matter if anyone tampers with it. Thanks for reading and happy scouting!

Got my deer back from Sept and I'm very happy with the mount. Looking great on the wall of memories! Only downside is he makes most of my other deer look smaller. Haha!

Thanks everybody! It was a pleasure to write. Not my biggest cat by any means but a trophy moment for sure. I appreciate the positive feedback. As we all know, lion management with hounds is always under scrutiny and threat. We can hope game management decisions on this argument continue to be made according to the facts. We have a perfect example of what disaster looks like, to the west, with irresponsible lion management as well as in many categories. Unfortunately, of course, there are many sportsman and sensible citizens in such areas held captive where they call home, by the popular vote. We can stay ahead of this trend with proactive steps toward educating the next generation. Talking is great but get out and show a kid reality in nature.

Thanks to all. Just to set the record straight I always liked my Mathews but after shooting it for almost 10 years I decided to upgrade last spring. I shot a handful of different bows while shopping around and after a couple trips to Tucson I settled on the Hoyt. I have no regrets with that decision and enjoy the bow very much. I believe and hope breaking it was a fluke. It served me well in September harvesting what's likely to be the biggest Coues I'll ever take with a bow. After this January season I realized also that keeping my Mathews as backup was well worth it. The broadhead I used is an Innerloc Shape Shifter. I've tried many broadheads over the years and have had good and bad experiences. I shot one of these at the target quite a bit learned they're very accurate even in the wind. It gave me an unreal blood trail with his deer. The back half of my arrow was on he blood trail and although I looked for half an hour for the front half I couldn't find it so I didn't get to examine the broadhead after the shot.