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2BHunting

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  1. Posted · Report reply

    Year 1 :

    This journey started 3 years ago with a rifle. Like my first deer hunt, I had no idea what I was doing. I went high, I went low, I went into the thick, I searched out in the open. I was striking out. The last evening that I had to hunt, and after covering all of the different terrain that this unit has to offer, I decided to go back low and into the thick stuff. I had been in this area a few days prior, so I had some familiarity with it. It was 4th and long, and this was my hail mary. Less than 100 yards from my truck, and with less than 1 hour of light remaining, I cut a set of fresh tracks out of the main wash that I was in. I decided to follow them into the stuff that makes you question your sanity, as each step rips out a new piece of flesh. Obviously, this was not the quietest route that I could have chosen, but I wanted to follow these tracks. As I painfully pushed on, I heard the unmistakable woofing sound. I couldn’t believe it, I was closing in on them. I realize at this moment, I have no path forward that doesn’t spook them into the next area code. So, I back out and make my way down the main wash. I knew that they were feeding up the side of a hill, so I backtracked a couple hundred yards (if that) in each direction, got the wind right, and set out to cut them off. This walk was far less painful, but still thick and did not offer many shooting lanes for a rifle. As I’m pondering how I’d get a shot if I did manage to get in front of them, I suddenly see one cresting the top of the hill side that I am now on the backside of. It happened so quickly, that I messed it up before it even began (after doing everything right up to this point). My kneejerk reaction was to put the rifle up immediately. I was WAY too close for that, and couldn’t see a thing but blurry bushes and cactus. This subtle movement blew my concealment, and then the herd blew loose in every direction around me. I stay focused on the first one I saw, and it had moved behind a thick patch and we engaged in a stare down. Again, not knowing what to do in this situation, and after listening to it woof/stomp for long enough, I make the snap decision to try to side step the bushes. Still too close for a rifle, my movement was caught immediately and like a cartoon character this thing took off faster than I realized they were capable of moving. I tried holding in front of it after it crossed the wash on the far side and squeezed one off. I knew immediately it was a clean miss, but did my due diligence to confirm it. When I got to where it was when I shot, it was moving so fast that it was easy track. I followed the deep impressions it left behind as far as I could, and to no avail I finished out my hunt gridding that area as the sun set on my first Javelina hunt.

    Year 2:

    I have one weekend to hunt, and a 10 year old in tote. I had gone out the week before opener to check cams (last year of doing this). As I am making my way through some of the areas that I had been in the year prior, I decide low and thick is where we will be (again with a rifle). Not far from my camera, I jump a herd bedded nearby. A mama and little one stay in front of me at 10 yards for quite some time. She never became threatening, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little intimidated in the moment as I was not packing, and wasn’t sure if she’d charge to protect the little one. Anyway, I took some pics, marked the area on ONX, set a cam, and back home I went. Opening morning comes, and for obvious reasons we head out on foot to where I had jumped the herd the week before. I’m a novice hunter, and now I have my boy with me. I have to at least make him believe that I know what I am doing, in hopes that one day he does know what he is doing. It takes us a little over an hour to hike in. All along, I am teaching him about the wind, the sound, the tracks, the signs and most importantly the repercussions of not paying attention to where the cholla are. He’s doing great so far, he’s being quiet, he’s listening, not complaining, I’m sure this is all because I bribed him with a $5 per shed offer to help keep him focused. As we’re getting closer to the “hot zone”, I start telling him to move slower, walk lighter, etc. because we are almost to where I want to be. He gives me the thumbs up, and we start making our way up the hill side that I am convinced will lead to Javelina land on the other side of. As we approach my mark on ONX I hear it starting. Ah…ah….ahhhh chooooo! Over and over and over again…In this moment, I don’t even turn around. I stand there and literally laugh out loud. There was no Javelina land on the other side of this ridge, but his allergy attack ensured that there wasn’t a Javelina within a mile of us in any direction now. Not long after this moment, I spot a decent 3 point shed and want him to earn his 5 bucks. So…I walk by it, come back to it, circle around it, stop short of kicking it, before I can’t take it anymore and finally ask him what the heck he’s looking at besides that nice 3 point shed on the ground in front of him. He shakes his head, laughs, and told me he didn’t actually believe me all along that there’d be sheds out here in the desert. We hunt hard the rest of the day and the following day without much to show for it but a shed, a pic of him with someone else’s recent kill (we found the hooves and gut pile), and a new marker on ONX where we found the most sign (more on this in the conclusion). All in all, we came up empty handed, didn’t see a live pig, but I shared some great memories with one of my boys.

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    Year 3: The conclusion

    My wife decides she wants to go see Kane Brown in Vegas for our 5th anniversary this year, and the concert falls on opening weekend, much to my displeasure. I reluctantly agree to this, and tell my father in law that I only have opening morning to hunt, and that I’d be back in a few days. I really like the area I have been hunting the past two years, but have concluded that it’s not conducive to rifle hunting. This year we put in for the HAM tag, and I decide I will try for my first big game harvest with a bow. Thankfully the HAM hunt is a longer hunt because now I’m going to miss part of it for this concert. Opening morning comes, and it’s cold and windy out. I am going in with my bow, and my game plan isn’t to glass from afar so I don’t really care if they are hunkered down. I considered it an advantage and I set off from camp on foot. Within an hour, I’m moving through a small wash wind in my face and I catch movement out ahead approximately 40 yards. Bingo, a pig is feeding behind a bush in front of me, and I have a strong wind in my face. I nock an arrow, and don’t move a muscle (experience from 2-years ago kicks in). While I am thinking of a game plan, the wind swirls, and as hard as it was blowing in my face, suddenly I’m up wind and it’s blowing twice as hard back down toward the pig. Now, I have always heard about the importance of the wind. But for the first time I experienced it firsthand. This pig did not see me, there’s no way. When that wind shifted, it got alert, and before I knew it he was on the run. Now, for the rodeo. I quickly moved up the wash fast enough to see him run up the other side. I tuck in the left side of the wash and think to myself that I’ll try and get in front of him. I can’t see him at this point, but I can hear him. He’s woofin’ and screamin’ mad. It sounds like he’s running in a circle around me. At this point, he’s been so vocal, I decide to stop where I am at, and I let out two calls. I hear him immediately begin charging towards me, and I couldn’t believe it actually worked. I draw back, and hold where I think he’s coming from up wash. I see his nose, when all of a sudden the wind hits me hard with another gust from behind, and he bolts sideways one step away from me releasing. I boogey to the other side where he ran up, and lose sight of him. I’m now standing ¾ of the way up the hillside, and it sounds like he got in behind me somehow (or there was another pig that I hadn’t seen up to this point, I’ll never truly know). I knelt down and listened for a second. It was close, so I decided to let out two calls to see if I could bring him up. Not on a rope, but he comes in and he comes in heavy and fast. It was almost comedic sitting there watching him jump around like he was being electrocuted or something. Hopping over the ledge of the wash onto the hill side, and bouncing side to side all the way up to me. It was incredible, he bounced behind every single bush, and cactus on that hillside between him and I, always blocking my shot. He comes to a stop 5-yards in front of me, directly behind a bush. I am at full-draw, and I hold, we stare, and I hold until my arms start shaking and are about to give out. It’s hard to say how much time has passed during this stare down, but long enough for me to have contemplated taking an ill-advised shot on several occasions. I held until my arms finally gave out, and he never moved a muscle until I let down. Once he caught that movement, he was out of there faster than I could stand and draw back again. I felt a weird combination of “that was awesome!”, and “my soul has been crushed by a blown opportunity, yet again”. I reflected, I hunted some more, met my father in law for lunch, told him the story about the big one that got away yet again, and hunted until dark in the cold wind. Now I had to make the long drive home to get ready for Vegas, while replaying the sequence of events over, and over again for the next three days. He hunted while I was gone, never turning up any pigs. I made it back to camp the following Thursday and rejoined him. The night prior, I knocked an old hunting hat of mine off of the shelf, which happens to be the hat I wore on the hunt with him when I shot my first deer. I said to myself that I’m going to bring it along for good luck. I make mention of this to him at camp in the morning over coffee, put on the lucky hat, we wish each other luck, and head off in our separate ways. I left the bow at home this time, and decided to bring the .357. He heads to the area that my son and I were in the year prior that I marked on ONX, and I go right back to where I blew it opening morning of this year. By 8:30am, I get a text message from him saying “Pig down. More in here, at least 6”. I am way too far away for that to matter, so I just give him the thumbs up sign, and let him know I am on to some fresh sign myself. I am happy for him, but also feel an immense amount of pressure set in now. I can’t help but think it’s never going to happen for me at this point. Knowing approximately how long it will take for him to get back to camp, I hunt the area I am in accordingly, and make my way back so I can congratulate him and take a picture if he wants one. He’s pretty much got the entire pig taken care of by time I get back. We talk briefly, and then I have him drop me off in a new spot close to where he just was and near the area my son and I found the year before. I get out, he wishes me luck yet again, and tells me to call him at lunch and he’d come pick me up. I have no intention of calling him at lunch, and tell him not to expect a call from me until nightfall unless I text him that a pig is down. Where he drops me at, the wind is wrong for where I am trying to get to. I walk out of my way so that I can get the wind in my favor, and cut across a few washes to start making my way to my marker. As I am approaching, I know the area is hot. The beds here are being used, there’s fresh scat, and my father in law just got one not far from here. So, I decided to stop moving and let out 2 calls. Within 30 seconds I see her cross the wash up ahead of me. I slowly move to the right side, and kneel down. I completely lose visibility of her when I squat, so I decide to let out two more calls since they had been responding to them up to this point. The wind is perfect, and I sit there waiting for her to come down the wash that would present me with about a 5-yard broadside shot. But she doesn’t come down the main line that I expected her to. She made a big loop and came in at me head on. It didn’t matter where she came from this time, I was cocked and ready. As soon as I saw her I put the red dot on her chest and squeezed off one fatal shot quartering towards me. It inserted her chest and was held up on the exit near her rear ribs by the hyde. I found the bullet when I was skinning her. And just like that, 3-years of ups and downs, close encounters, and everything in between finally came together. 11 minutes after he dropped me off, and with shaking hands, I texted my father in law, “pig down”, and marked my location on ONX. Later when looking at ONX, I realized I shot her within feet of where my son and I had stood and marked the year prior. When I zoom out of ONX, you can barely even differentiate the markers, it’s that close. We were back at camp with two pigs in the ice chests and drinking bloody marys by noon that day. AMAZING experience.

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  5. Posted · Report reply

    For the love of hunting, I hope they figure this out soon! 1. Make the application process less redundant.  Why do we have to list our personal information every time we apply for a different species?  Other states have figured out how to do this why can't we?

    It would be so nice to put all of the applicants and species applied for into one condensed application process without having to answer all of those questions, for each person, for each species.  

    As for games cams, I would definitely not want a season on them. 

  6. Posted · Report reply

    Really awesome job man! I just read the other thread from last year and it really highlights how great this site can be. Way to go from start to finish, asking questions, taking advice, and more importantly just getting out there and getting it done. Congrats bud, you should be proud of your accomplishment.

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  8. Posted · Report reply

    On 11/27/2019 at 9:03 AM, jdown said:

    I have to be honest, I'm a little disappointed in our G&F on this one  with the fact there is not a harsher consequence for these actions.  I get the whole self reporting and accidents happen etc, and no offense to the poster here as you were prepared to suffer whatever was thrown at you,  but if after waiting XX amount of years for a trophy tag and dumping two bucks and the only consequence is that I only get to keep one and I probably can't get away with it twice.... that seems like our G&F is setting up a 1X poachers playbook exemption.  I don't know what the right consequence is for this but feels like there needs to be some deterrent.        

    I think I see the point you're trying to make. However, a poacher is a criminal, and a criminal will be a criminal regardless. This man self reported, and took responsibility for his actions. The outcome could have very well ended much differently for him, and for that he was fortunate. For the poachers out there getting ideas from this playbook, good luck with that. One can only hope that the poachers start self reporting their "mistakes" too, but don't hold your breath on that one. Congrats to the OP on a successful hunt, and more importantly kudos to him for leading his son by example. 

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  14. Posted · Report reply

    This thread is great. Each time I find myself walking in the dark through lion and bear country, I wonder to myself if there is another hunter out there navigating their way through the same darkness, just as skirmish. I watch all the youtube guys out there that seemingly do it effortlessly, and without concern. Nice to know I'm not alone. I do prefer the hike ins, as at least I tell myself the sun will be up soon. The hikes out are a bit worse, cause you just know its you and darkness for a while. PS my palms just got sweaty typing this, as I'll be bailing into a nasty canyon next month chasing a big 3, in a new unit to me, with its fair share of lions and bears. Can't wait!

  17. Posted · Report reply

    I shot my first buck there (recent story in campfire, "Introduction". I haven't been back for deer since that hunt, but am down there for Javelina every year, and had these guys on my cam in January prior to that hunt. Fun hunt, I love chasing the desert bucks!

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  19. Posted · Report reply

    Hey all,

    I’ve been lurking on the site for a couple of years now. No idea why it took me so long to actually sign up, but I thoroughly enjoy the content. A little about me, my name is Brandon and I moved to AZ back in 2002 from Colorado. I didn’t get involved in hunting AZ until a few years ago, and have been addicted ever since (I’ll share that story first). I’m married with 3 kids, and a 4th to be any day now (all boys). My now father in law took me on an any antlered deer hunt in 2016 where I shot my first big game animal (a very small mule deer spike) that AZGFD aged at about 2-3 years old, and told me he just had bad genetics (insert milk on the lips jokes here). I had always considered myself an “outdoorsmen” until this hunt, when I realized how much of a city slicker I had become. My father in law had taken me on a couple of scouting trips before the opener, and asked me what I thought. I said” Well, I am having a tough time believing that there’s going to be a deer out there behind that cactus,” he laughed. Opening morning had me stumbling around the desert flats being taught a lesson with every step. I went south out of camp, my father in law went north, and his buddy went east so we had a good understanding of who would be where. Twenty minutes into my hike south, I make my way through a thicket and came face to face with a moo cow. Not knowing how he would react I backed out slowly, and rerouted. Come to find out I’m smack dab in the middle of a herd of moo cows now, and am really starting to feel like a city slicker. They don’t bother me, and I don’t mess with them and I scoot on out of the wash I was in. As I’m slowly walking through my new route, I hear the sound of hooves galloping behind me. I turn around and see a buck (appeared to be a decent 3x3 from behind) and a doe bouncing away up the side of a hill. I literally must’ve walked on top of them bedded, because to this day I am not sure how I made it through where they came from, to where I was without jumping them first in front of me. With my rifle slung over my head and on my back, I’m knocking my hat off and tangling my sling and binos together while trying to get to the top of the hill to hopefully have a shot at the buck. He was in the next area code by time I got my stuff together, and I regrouped from the adrenaline rushing through me. I walked countless miles that day, stopping and glassing, and learning and falling in love with not only hunting, but hunting the desert. As I tried to sleep that night, and replayed everything that had happened over and over, I began making my plan for the next morning. I had come across a water tank that I sat for a bit, and decided that I would head that way again in the pre-dawn hours. As the sun came up, I made my way south again. No longer having the rifle slung behind me, and noticing that my walk wasa lot different this morning, I realized that the addiction was in me now, and was spreading like wildfire. I spent two hours slowly navigating my way through the washes, towards my mark on the water tank. I was hoping I could cut them off coming from water as the morning sun began to rise. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for me, my first introduction to public land hunting, and another lesson was about to be learned. I’m ¼ mile from the tank now when I hear the sound of a vehicle driving down the road leading to the tank. I can’t believe it, two hours of slowly walking in, and here comes someone driving right down the road that I didn’t see a sole on the day prior. I stop and position myself behind a thicket to where I have shooting lanes should my new friends push anything out. As I sit there, the shotgun blasts begin to rain out. Well, there goes my plan entirely and I’m too new to have a plan B. So, I improvise, look towards a range of mountains in the distance and say that’s where I’m headed. Borderline frustrated, I start my walk that changes my life. Now, I am not wanting to interfere with the bird hunters, so I keep about a ¼ mile perimeter from the tank and walk around it. I’m to the other side now about to cross a wash when I catch movement up above me on the other side of the wash. I drop to a squatting position and identify the movement. I jumped two deer behind a bush. I raise my rifle and pick them up in the scope. The first deer steps out, and I see he has a tiny antler on his left side (literally about all he had) and a button on the right side. The internal debate begins. I don’t know my father in law well at this point, and I worry about the “size of the antler” razzing back at camp I’m sure to face if I squeeze. I then think about my late papa giving me my Winchester .270 that I am holding, and sitting with me through my hunter safety class at 13 years old back in Colorado. I think of how proud of me he would be if he could see me in this moment. As that last thought crosses my mind, he turnedquartering slightly toward me and “BOOM!” instinct took over and the bullet enters mid chest and exits his left shoulder. He stands straight up on his hind legs, turns and boogies up the hill with his girlfriend. I lose sight of him, and try to calm myself down and mark my shot location. I cross the wash and up the other side to where he was and begin looking for blood. No blood, anywhere. I walk to the top of the ridgeline, no blood and no deer in sight. Now I’m second guessing everything. I saw him stand, I was right on him from 45 yards, how could I miss?? Telling myself I have to find blood, I decided to criss cross down the hill side back to my shot location. I walk the ridgeline parallel from where I took the shot, and begin to criss cross down. The first zig of my zag, and I find him expired. I was so thankful and overcome with emotion. I never did find any blood at all other than where he lay, and believe that marking my shot location is the only reason I found him being solo and so green. I thankfully have cell service, and call my father in law, who sends my brother in law out to help me clean him up. Ironically he drives down the same road to the tank that the bird hunters drove out on. He actually stopped and talked to them on their way out, and they told him that they heard my bullet hit its mark after the shot. I thought that was pretty cool, and the first I had learned of that happening. My ears were ringing and certainly didn’t hear it hit. Anyhow, if you are reading this and you were one of those bird hunters at the tank in 37B that day in 2016, thank you! You pushed me around that tank and led me straight to what has now become a true passion of mine. From small game to big game, there is very little in life that I enjoy more for myself. My kids, my wife, and the great AZ outdoors. If you’re still reading, thanks! I look forward to sharing much more! I also have thick skin, so I’m not afraid to post these pictures that accommodate this story. The lessons I learned on this hunt, and the first spent shell on my belt of big game hunting launched me into this obsession and that was my trophy from the hunt. Now let’s all get back to idgaf’s thread, cause let’s be honest..that’swhat we’re really checking in on right now!

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