Memorable Hunt

[2 Full Curls]

Like most others on this forum, my Dad and I share a passion for everything that is hunting (and especially for chasing the little grey ghosts). This year proved to be a special year, as both my Dad and I were able to tag out on the same hunt… something we had never done before. I have enjoyed reading and gawking at the success of others on this website for several years now (great site Amanda and thank you for it!), and I think it’s a good time for me to contribute. So here it goes…

 

Part 1

 

Driving down the road the weekend before the hunt, on our way to fill the propane tanks and make one last run to Sportsman’s, Dad and I started talking about our opening-morning “plan-of-attack”. Prior to the season we had a couple scouting trips planned, but due to my work load as a full-time graduate student, the scouting trips went out the window and we were left to plan our hunt based on past experiences.

 

“You know I really want to hunt that big bowl with the boulders… I just know it holds a good buck”, my Dad starts in as I expected he would.

 

“I don’t doubt that it does, but I really want to hit the cut that I saw the cat in last year,” I suggested back. “That cut has a spring down in the bottom of it and nobody will be in there”.

 

The conversation continued until we got home that night, and over a cold Coors we struck a deal. Thursday evening before the hunt we would glass Dad’s bowl, and if a good buck was spotted we’d put him to bed for opening morning. If not, we’d hike into cat-canyon and make a play to find a good buck feeding on sunny slopes above the spring.

 

Fast forward to the night before the hunt…. Dad and I pound his bowl for two-hours until dark without spotting a buck. We get back to the bikes and both reaffirm that my canyon is the place to be on opening morning.

 

The alarm clock rings at 3:45 and we both jump out of the sleeping bag as though the lack of rest was a normal gig (funny how that works during deer season). We gear up and make the 30 minute ride to the spot where we would park our bikes. As we pull into a stand of junipers, we quickly realize that our morning may be even tougher than anticipated. The wind was gusting between 35-40 mph, and even if we were to spot a good buck, making a shot would be all-the-more difficult.

 

With flashlights in hand, we hike to the saddle that we knew we wanted to be in at first light. To do this we had to drop down a 50 foot shale shoot on our butts…something I was only able to get my Dad to do in the dark because he couldn’t see how crazy we were being.

 

We reached our spot and set up behind the Swaros. Hunkered down, we battled the wind directly in our face, and continually glassed the opposing draws trying to find a good buck staying sheltered from the wind. After an hour and no luck, my Dad tells me he is too cold and needs to move back over the saddle and get out of the wind. Because I am freezing at this point too, and my eyes need a break, I follow him to the leeward side of the ridge.

 

Once we reset, I immediately hear my Dad say “I got a deer bedded and it may be a buck…but I need to get the doubler on him to tell. There’s a century plant behind his head and its blocking the view between his ears”.

 

After looking at the deer for several minutes we both agree the deer is most likely a doe or a small buck. We continue to glass other cuts, and periodically check on the bedded deer. After fifteen minutes of continued glassing we both pan to the location of the bedded deer. We are excited to see three deer feeding and all are bucks!

 

Even at the extended distance of 800 yards, I could tell none of the bucks were monsters like we had seen in the area in years past, but one buck certainly deserved a better look. After closer consideration, I determined that I was going to make a play at the largest of the three bucks… Prior to this hunt it had been several years since I had taken my first buck and I still did not have my first respectable ‘3-point’. I had passed on several forkies in order to chase two 100-inchers on separate trips, but those bucks gave me the slip, and now I had the perfect opportunity to get the monkey off my back.

 

My Dad stayed at our original glassing spot and I worked my way down to a bluff outcropping that stood as the last marker between me and the bucks across the canyon. As I eased on the bluff, I ranged the deer at 480 yards. I radioed my Dad and told him I wasn’t comfortable with the distance, especially with the sustained 35 mph cross winds. It was time to wait them out…

 

From 8:00 a.m to 12:00 p.m the bucks moved very little and I took the opportunity to take my first ‘digiscope’ pics of one of the smaller bucks (first photo) and my buck (second photo under the mesquite). At high noon, the winds finally began to calm (15 mph) and the bucks slowly fed down the ridge…cutting the distance with every step. My Dad worked his way down to my position and loaned me his jacket to use for my rest.

 

 

 

 

I was using my Remington 7mm mag that we had recently spruced up with a new thumbhole stock, bedded action, and Harris bipod. Although I was shooting factory ammo, I knew the ballistics of my gun and was comfortable out to 400 yards. As the bucks continued to feed, I laid prone on the bluff and pillowed the butt of my stock using our jackets. My buck turned broadside in the shade of a tall saguaro at 350 yards, and I did one last ballistics check with my Dad.

 

“I’ve got 6 inches of drop and 12-14 inches of wind drift. I’m going to put it in the socket of his hind quarter and touch it off.”

“Go for it,” was my Dad’s reply.

 

I squeezed the trigger until I was surprised, and immediately racked another round. All I heard was my Dad chuckle and say “You got him buddy”.

 

After a little jig and hugs all around... the work began. I shot my buck a little after 12:00 pm and we reached the bikes, with buck and gear, at 5:30 pm. One trip with all the meat, and 1000 ft elevation climb, darn near killed us but we did it. It turns out my buck was quartered to me slightly...something I could not tell in the shadows. The bullet hit in front of his front shoulder and exited through his opposite shoulder. He’s not huge (only a touch over 71”) but I’m very proud of him and will be getting him mounted no doubt!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Part 2

 

After taking an entire day to clean my buck’s meat, take it to the processor, and ice-up, we were back at it Sunday morning. The winds had died down and we were hopeful to glass up a good buck for my Dad. Around 9:45, I spotted two bucks working their way through a meadow about 1500 yards out. I could tell both were decent, but I was unable to judge them at the extended distance as they quickly disappeared into thickets of manzanita and buckbrush.

 

After not turning up anything else the rest of the day, Dad and I made plans to hike into the country, where the two bucks were spotted, the following morning. The country was rough, and we both knew it was a gamble.

 

Loaded with granola, beef jerkey, and tootsie rolls, and aided by the light of the full moon, we began our hour trek into the thick country the next morning. We timed it perfectly and found ourselves slow-hunting a meadowy draw at day break. Our plan was to creep our way through the cut, glassing opposing junipers every ten yards of walking, until we eventually worked our way to the canyon we had seen the bucks go into the day before. Immediately we noticed fresh sign and large buck droppings along a well-worn game trail that worked its way from a neighboring canyon and into the open draw.

 

Fifteen minutes into the hunt, I watched my Dad double-take in his binoculars and quietly whisper, “deer”. Dad had glassed a doe 400 yards across the draw, still bedded from the previous night. It didn’t take long for her companion to show himself, as he fed in a juniper down below her. All I could see were his eye-guards and g-2’s, and they indicated he was a good buck… but I couldn’t tell how good.

 

Because the draw was so shallow, we needed to cut the distance in order to get an open shot. So we dropped our packs and began the slow stalk. We only had small mesquite trees to use for cover, but we were able to get to 275 yards. Dad laid his 7mm on the limb of a mesquite while I hung back and tried to pick the buck back up. After 45 seconds of panning, I found the buck near his original position, and boy was I surprised when I realized it was a two-point. He was the best forkie I had ever seen…tall, with 3.5-4” eye-guards. After holding the cross-hairs on him, Dad decided to let him pass and continue the hunt. He wanted something bigger and knew that this buck would be a real nice 95”-class buck for next year’s hunt.

 

We crept back to our packs, loaded up and continued on. Over the next two-hours we hunted our way towards the canyon we had seen the two bucks in the day before. The slow-hunt was eventful as we saw wild horses, two more bucks (without an opportunity), a doe, and a big-male coatie. At 11:30 we nestled down in some rocky-bluffs (see picture) to have lunch, glass our deep canyon, and take a mid-day nap. After not spotting a big-ole buck through the mid-day stretch, we packed up at 3:30 and started our 2 mile hike back to the bikes.

 

 

 

Our plan was to slow-hunt our way out, but to take a different route than the morning. For the evening hunt we would work our way through a small burn and glass a neighboring canyon that was filled with oaks and junipers. As we passed through the burn and crested the ridge of the canyon, it was now 5:00 pm and the sun was going down behind the opposite ridge. The canyon in front of us was completely shaded, and in prime condition to hold deer.

 

As we slow crept to the edge of a grassy bench, we took cover under a juniper. We both quickly dropped the packs and pulled the tripods and binos out, knowing we only had 20-30 minutes of hunting light left. After 5 minutes of glassing, I turned my binos to the next stand of junipers and had two-bucks in the middle of my field-of-view. Both were mature racks with one being slightly bigger than the other. The distance was 475 yards (a shootable distance for my Dad) but the bucks were at the bottom of the ridge, and if they were to run down hill after his shot there would be no way of seeing them. We needed to reposition.

 

There was one lone juniper down the ridge that we estimated would offer a better shot, but we had to make tracks to get to it. So we grabbed our packs, slow crawled backwards over the ridge top and walked down the spine of the canyon out of the bucks’ view. When we had covered the distance, we snuck back over into the canyon, used the lone juniper for cover, and crept 100 yards to our shooting spot.

 

As Dad prepared for a shot, I immediately went to glassing for the bucks. At this point their last position was 375 yards across canyon, but they had disappeared into the juniper and oak thickets. Five minutes (an eternity in that moment) passed and the bucks were no-where to be seen. I was getting worried, and broaden my search 100 yards out from where I expected them to be…. It was the right move. I spotted the smaller of the grey ghost through an oak tree, up in some sage grass, and it didn’t take long for his bigger buddy to reappear ….. It amazes me how camouflaged these deer can become at the blink of an eye.

 

Due to the steep angle, and grass around us, my Dad could not get steady in a prone position using his rifle and pack. So he opted to use my gun and the bipod. It didn’t take him long to squeeze the first shot, and I was amazed when the bullet hit an inch high over his back. The buck stood still long enough for a second and that was all it took. My dad’s deer dropped and rolled down the steep ridge 15 yards until it piled up.

 

In the excitement I had told my Dad the wrong amount of bullet drop at that distance… thank goodness the buck gave us a second chance. We got to the buck right at dark-thirty, took some photos, and field dressed him.

 

We did not have our pack frames and new that we would have to come back for the meat in the morning. Luckily the buck had dropped buy a dead juniper and we were able to hang him in the tree. We wrapped a sweaty t-shirt around his rib-cage and peed at the base of the tree to keep the coyotes off him and began the mile-hike out. We got to camp at 9:30 pm, and were at the buck at day light the next morning. It was the coldest night on the trip and the meat was still cool-to-the-touch.

 

Dad’s buck scores right under 80”, which is a little thinner than we thought (we had guessed in the binos near 85”), but he is without a doubt a trophy in our book. He has a nice tall rack and had beautiful fatty meat.

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you for reading and good luck on your next hunting adventure.

[Pine Donkey]

Nice bucks. It's always special to hunt with family. Congratulations to both of you.

[Coues Sniper]

Great write up and pics. I enjoyed reading it. Congrats!

[trophyhnter]

Great writeup! Great bucks! Greats friends! Great time! Not much more you can ask for! Thanks for sharing!

[WallHanger]

Ive been waiting for this write up. You guys did a good job filling your tags. Clays work is awesome you wont be disappointed.Thanks for sharing.

[mklong40]

congrats. I hope I can have a similiar experience with my boys (and gal) in about 5 years! Great job!

[cramerhunts]

Great job on the story and congratulations on a couple nice bucks. It just doesn't get any better then spending time in the hills with family.

[Cowman]

Way to go Sean! Big congrats to you and your dad. Go enjoy another Banquet beer you earned it.

[2 Full Curls]

Thank you for reading guys and for the kind comments.

 

WallHanger I asked Clay what your buck scored when I took my rack back to him... Very impressive. Congrats again on a trophy.

 

 

[2 Full Curls]

Thanks Brandon! There were plenty of banquet beers enjoyed . Tell your Dad hello and shoot me a pm with the story on his kaibab hunt when you get a chance.