A cooperative MT mule deer
- Thread starter Big Fin
- Start date
Brandenbowhunter
Well-known member
Nice work Randy!
have gun will travel
New member
- Joined
- Apr 20, 2012
- Messages
- 343
Awsome buck congrats Randy
fishing4sanity
Well-known member
I can't imagine a buck like that NOT getting a guy excited, great photos as always, congrats!
nidahunter
Well-known member
23 inches or not, that is a definate shooter! By the looks of the size of that thing I bet you feel like you packed out an elk.
FishN4Eyes
Well-known member
Nice, mature mule deer, Randy!
I love all the extra stickers, lots of characters on that guys, congrats!
I love all the extra stickers, lots of characters on that guys, congrats!
elkrchr
Well-known member
Great buck Randy! Love the mass and trash. Can't wait for the unabridged edition of how it all went down.
bjtc_brian
Member
Congrats Randy, no way I'd pass on him!!!
BuzzH
Well-known member
Nice buck...congrats!
MTpubliclander
Member
I can't wait to see the episode, i would have shot that buck for sure as well. Any time that a buck like that appears its always worth forgetting what the pack out will be like. And if you hadn't been excited with a buck like that, it would be time to stop hunting, the trophy is in the experience.
bowhuntmontana
Well-known member
Great buck Randy, and of course it was hard earned. Love those stickers, mass, and color. Congrats.
Here is the start of the "unabridged" version.
In some earlier posts, you read about my scouting for this upcoming MT elk hunt. We had already done some MT elk hunting during archery hunting, but not having filled my tag there, I wanted to film this general unit hunt. It was a struggle to get a public land filming permit, but thanks to some very good USFS employees, we were able to get permitted for this area.
A little background to why I chose this area. We had filmed here in Season One of OYOA. Lawnboy shot a good bull the last evening of a very tropical-temp week of elk hunting. Plus, the area borders a wilderness area, which is a good place to get away from people and their mechanized travel machines.
I had scouted this area four days prior to the hunt. Twice the last week of archery season, both times seeing a really good bull and three other six pointers. They were way too visible, which worried me. But, if no one else saw them, this could be a great opportunity.
I then scouted the last day of archery season and the bulls were gone, but there were two trucks parked at the trailhead, making me wonder if the visibility of those bulls had attracted too much attention. I scouted a couple days later, again seeing nothing. Dang, I figured it too good to be true.
The best way to scout this area is the climb the mountains that are a couple miles away. You then gain enough elevation to look into some of these burned pockets and also gives you view of the benches that are indistinguishable from down below.
One thing that struck me was how much snow was already in the area, especially up in the wilderness area. That is usually good for concentrating elk in mid-elevation staging areas. And, will often get the deer migrating, given they migrate much sooner than elk.
With the filming permit in hand, Brad (camera guy) and I decided to haul our basic camp gear in and get set up. It is about a 1,700’ elevation gain over 2.5 miles. We came out in the dark, having little time to look around.
The following morning, the day before opener, we hauled in the remainder of our camp, some food, and the production gear. We got things all set up and allowed us to hike the next hour up to the burnt ridges and do some scouting.
As if they read the script, a mature mule deer buck and a smaller buddy interrupted out ascent to the best glassing ridge. Brad confirmed we would swap gun/camera and he would gladly toast the bigger of these two, if the same opportunity was presented over the next few days. I was kind of hoping it would work out, as a reward for how hard he works while filming this show.
We peaked over the ridge into the big basin and straight across were two bulls grazing in the late afternoon sun. Dang it, get in the trees. Someone else is going to see you and your antlers, albeit rather small antlers – a raghorn and a spike. This unit is deemed to be over objective, so we could shoot any elk; cow, spike, branch-antlered bull, you name it. And, given good footage, I would shoot whatever presented the opportunity. I would only have four days to fill my MT elk tag, so no time for being picky on this hunt.
Another mature buck grazed below us. And then another one came up from some burned timber to our NW. More deer than I had expected. All a good sign, given I only had four days to fill my MT deer tag, also.
Eventually the bulls fed over the ridge and into some dark timber. We decided to head back to our camp. Down below, we could see three headlamps working up the drainage below us. Made me wonder how many guys might make this hike for opening morning. Damn elk need to learn to stay a little less visible and attract a little less attention.
We hustled back to camp, amazed at how warm the weather was for late October. I plucked a couple Mountain House dinners from our food cache that hung 15’ up in a tree. In short order, I was snoozing in my tent, with dreams of bulls dancing in my mind. One of the best nights of mountain top sleep I can recall.
The alarm sounded and breakfast of granola and blueberries was in my stomach. Brad was prepping his gear while I thinned out the unnecessary items from my over-packed MR Metcalf. We were moving up the ridges an hour and a half before shooting light.
We got to our chosen location a half hour before shooting light. All good…… with one exception. Well, three exceptions. The three guys we had seen last evening had camped right on the ridge where the elk had been spotted yesterday and just west of the basin where I had seen the four bulls in my scouting. Oh well, such is life when hunting public land. That left us in a quandary of how to make the best of an unexpected situation.
I watched as the three guys moved to a ridge further north. I told Brad we would set up on the ridge above where Lawnboy shot the bull a few years ago and just see what happened. Not long after we set up, we saw two hunters coming from the east, up the basin, though way down below. And then two more coming from a small chunk of private to our west. Looks like things were going to be busy on this opening day. Such is life.
It was actually kind of funny to watch what some of the hunters did. One guy sat on a rock down below and to the south of us. He was in really thick burned timber, sitting over a trail like a whitetail hunter would do. The three guys who had camped were now on the very point of a bare knob, visible from most anywhere in this mountain range. Still not sure what they were trying to accomplish.
I told Brad this reminded me of an opener in Wyoming when Uncle Larry and I had scouted some elk only to find the hills crawling with hunters opening morning. We sat down in the most likely exit routes and they ran a good bull past us and Larry obliged by putting him on the deck with one shot.
The sun was rising and the frost melting from the grass. I continued glassing one side, getting up and moving ten yards to glass the other side, all the while staying in the remnants of a burned fir forest. No deer. No elk.
Brad and I were discussing other options after one of the guys walked down below us about 400 yards, disappearing into the nasty burned deadfall about a half mile across. I told Brad how Bart and I had dragged two camera guys into that same burned mess, coming up the burned rock face via bushwhacking from the valley floor. He mumbled something about how that could be detrimental to my health and our business relationship.
Camp set - a million dollar view.
In some earlier posts, you read about my scouting for this upcoming MT elk hunt. We had already done some MT elk hunting during archery hunting, but not having filled my tag there, I wanted to film this general unit hunt. It was a struggle to get a public land filming permit, but thanks to some very good USFS employees, we were able to get permitted for this area.
A little background to why I chose this area. We had filmed here in Season One of OYOA. Lawnboy shot a good bull the last evening of a very tropical-temp week of elk hunting. Plus, the area borders a wilderness area, which is a good place to get away from people and their mechanized travel machines.
I had scouted this area four days prior to the hunt. Twice the last week of archery season, both times seeing a really good bull and three other six pointers. They were way too visible, which worried me. But, if no one else saw them, this could be a great opportunity.
I then scouted the last day of archery season and the bulls were gone, but there were two trucks parked at the trailhead, making me wonder if the visibility of those bulls had attracted too much attention. I scouted a couple days later, again seeing nothing. Dang, I figured it too good to be true.
The best way to scout this area is the climb the mountains that are a couple miles away. You then gain enough elevation to look into some of these burned pockets and also gives you view of the benches that are indistinguishable from down below.
One thing that struck me was how much snow was already in the area, especially up in the wilderness area. That is usually good for concentrating elk in mid-elevation staging areas. And, will often get the deer migrating, given they migrate much sooner than elk.
With the filming permit in hand, Brad (camera guy) and I decided to haul our basic camp gear in and get set up. It is about a 1,700’ elevation gain over 2.5 miles. We came out in the dark, having little time to look around.
The following morning, the day before opener, we hauled in the remainder of our camp, some food, and the production gear. We got things all set up and allowed us to hike the next hour up to the burnt ridges and do some scouting.
As if they read the script, a mature mule deer buck and a smaller buddy interrupted out ascent to the best glassing ridge. Brad confirmed we would swap gun/camera and he would gladly toast the bigger of these two, if the same opportunity was presented over the next few days. I was kind of hoping it would work out, as a reward for how hard he works while filming this show.
We peaked over the ridge into the big basin and straight across were two bulls grazing in the late afternoon sun. Dang it, get in the trees. Someone else is going to see you and your antlers, albeit rather small antlers – a raghorn and a spike. This unit is deemed to be over objective, so we could shoot any elk; cow, spike, branch-antlered bull, you name it. And, given good footage, I would shoot whatever presented the opportunity. I would only have four days to fill my MT elk tag, so no time for being picky on this hunt.
Another mature buck grazed below us. And then another one came up from some burned timber to our NW. More deer than I had expected. All a good sign, given I only had four days to fill my MT deer tag, also.
Eventually the bulls fed over the ridge and into some dark timber. We decided to head back to our camp. Down below, we could see three headlamps working up the drainage below us. Made me wonder how many guys might make this hike for opening morning. Damn elk need to learn to stay a little less visible and attract a little less attention.
We hustled back to camp, amazed at how warm the weather was for late October. I plucked a couple Mountain House dinners from our food cache that hung 15’ up in a tree. In short order, I was snoozing in my tent, with dreams of bulls dancing in my mind. One of the best nights of mountain top sleep I can recall.
The alarm sounded and breakfast of granola and blueberries was in my stomach. Brad was prepping his gear while I thinned out the unnecessary items from my over-packed MR Metcalf. We were moving up the ridges an hour and a half before shooting light.
We got to our chosen location a half hour before shooting light. All good…… with one exception. Well, three exceptions. The three guys we had seen last evening had camped right on the ridge where the elk had been spotted yesterday and just west of the basin where I had seen the four bulls in my scouting. Oh well, such is life when hunting public land. That left us in a quandary of how to make the best of an unexpected situation.
I watched as the three guys moved to a ridge further north. I told Brad we would set up on the ridge above where Lawnboy shot the bull a few years ago and just see what happened. Not long after we set up, we saw two hunters coming from the east, up the basin, though way down below. And then two more coming from a small chunk of private to our west. Looks like things were going to be busy on this opening day. Such is life.
It was actually kind of funny to watch what some of the hunters did. One guy sat on a rock down below and to the south of us. He was in really thick burned timber, sitting over a trail like a whitetail hunter would do. The three guys who had camped were now on the very point of a bare knob, visible from most anywhere in this mountain range. Still not sure what they were trying to accomplish.
I told Brad this reminded me of an opener in Wyoming when Uncle Larry and I had scouted some elk only to find the hills crawling with hunters opening morning. We sat down in the most likely exit routes and they ran a good bull past us and Larry obliged by putting him on the deck with one shot.
The sun was rising and the frost melting from the grass. I continued glassing one side, getting up and moving ten yards to glass the other side, all the while staying in the remnants of a burned fir forest. No deer. No elk.
Brad and I were discussing other options after one of the guys walked down below us about 400 yards, disappearing into the nasty burned deadfall about a half mile across. I told Brad how Bart and I had dragged two camera guys into that same burned mess, coming up the burned rock face via bushwhacking from the valley floor. He mumbled something about how that could be detrimental to my health and our business relationship.
Camp set - a million dollar view.
It was now 10am. My eyes had glassed every rock, every stump, anything that looked like a deer or elk in the ever-changing shadows of the rising east sun. No matter how hard I strained, the spotter never confirmed any of them to be elk or deer.
I walked back to the perch that gave me a view down to the west. Nothing other than some of the most scenic views in Montana. As I walked back to where Brad was manning the spotting scope, he commented that he saw something moving in the burned timber across from us. “Bull! Two bulls!”
That always gets my attention. I put the binos up and quickly had three bulls moving in the timber across from us. If they continued on their path, they would come about 500 yards below and to the south of us. Not sure what was said to whom, by whom, but Brad and I have been at this long enough that we know what the other means, even with the garbled cussing and frantic scrambling that usually ensues.
Brad saw me sneaking south, staying behind the ridge crest, peaking over to see where the elk were moving. I had lost sight of them when I went dropped into some timber to hide our advance. I peeked over and could see them now on the edge of the burned mess on the other side of this opening. They were below us, but moving from our 10 O’clock to our 3 O’clock position. If they continued on this path, we would have some shooting.
I used a few small snags for cover as we moved to the lip of this ridge. The bulls were now making their move. There were four of them. Two raghorns in front, a five-pointer, trailed by a small six or a big five.
I had the bipod out and a round loaded. I ranged the snow-free patch they were headed to – 374 yards. Brad asked which one I was going to shoot. “The one in the back.”
With Brad set up and telling me, “I’m good. I’m good.” I was following the bulls in my scope. They were easing toward us, giving a quartering angle. Dang, this is too good to be true. Stop for a few seconds, and one of you will get to be a TV star.
Finally, they stopped. They are all facing us, contemplating the best way to get the hell out of this life-shortening meadow. They turn and start back to their path of left to right. I am waiting for a shot. I no more than whisper for such luck and the last bull stops and mills around.
I set the CDS dials to 350 and ask Brad if he is ready. “Roger.”
I get the crosshairs on the bull and he turns, giving me a quartering shot. In the three seconds he stands there, I am rock solid on the point of his passenger-side shoulder. I could shoot, but if he turns towards his pals, I will have a broadside shot.
At full broadside, he is dead. Or, at least if I perform as I have on many other elk shots at this distance, and some further.
He takes some steps forward, continuing at a “quartering to” angle. Damn it! Now, the tops of some burned trees below me are obscuring shooting lanes. He has now disappeared below the tight cut that runs under us and forms the west rim of this basin.
I tell Brad to follow me. I move further south, knowing if they keep their same path, we will intercept them at less than 200 yards as they come up from the steep bench they just disappeared below.
To his credit, the guy sitting on the rock as if hunting whitetails, appears to be on the trail they would take. Two problems will hamper him – the wind is blowing strong from him to the bulls. And, he is off the crest, down the west side of the ridge, and the elk are on the east side of the crest.
I am set up and I wait for the bulls to appear below us. This is going to be too good. This never happens to us. I wait, now feeling the tremble of adrenaline. I tell Brad where they should come out. He gets ready. We wait. And we wait.
Something is not right. Elk on the move will not mill around in an open meadow this late in the morning.
I move forward to a point that exposes me to any animal in the basin. While under the lip below us, the elk evidently smelled the other hunter and doubled back, heading fast to our left, up and out of the basin. Rather than going SW as they were, they are now going NNW, and going fast. Not going to shoot at a group of bulls running away.
I’m thoroughly disgusted with myself. We were handed a gift and somehow I was not able to capitalize. I had a good public land bull in my crosshairs and wanted a better shot with better footage. With this shot I am 98% sure would have killed the bull, given the rest, the range, the calm conditions, etc. But, it was somewhat of a scramble for footage. I recalled last year in NM when I rushed and even though felt 90% confident, I did not make a lethal shot. Given they were moving closer to us, it seemed good to pass that shot and set up for a better opportunity.
I will admit, without my desire for perfect footage, I would have taken that shot, feeling very comfortable with the rest and conditions. Brad and I looked at the footage and he was on it long enough that if I had shot, it would have worked for TV. I should have just trusted him and pulled the trigger. Having done this for six years, I know when the chaos is creating a marginal situation and when calm provides the great footage we try to acquire.
I gambled and lost. I probably would not have been so disappointed if I had only gambled with my own ante and lost. Rather, Brad had anted up a huge amount of effort and commitment, and that was also lost in my gamble for better footage. I am sure Brad wanted to kick me in the head. But, having seen me pass a lot of other shots, he knows that is part of what comes with filming a show with me.
The bulls escaped us and continued down the ridge, taking them on a path that would give them sanctuary of private land, if they could safely travel the mile and a half of public land needed to get there. We listened for gun shots as the elk coursed the timber below us. Judging from the silence, evidently they avoided all hunters on their trip to private grounds.
I spend the next half hour explaining to the camera how I could have messed up that one; why I chose to pass; how I was sure we would get an epic opportunity. Still in disbelief that one of those bulls in not wearing my tag.
Yet, in some respects, the episode was just improved. We showed how you can scout and plan a public land hunt and even when hunting pressure changes your plan, patience and some adaptation can provide you a good opportunity. Most folks watching could have taken this opportunity and closed the deal. And, that is the goal of the show.
We sat there the rest of the day, glassing and glassing, not seeing much, other than a few hunters scrambling back down the ridges, retreating from the August-like temps and calling it quits early. I apologized to Brad at least a dozen times. My mind resolved that next time we had a chance I was going to shoot for the shot, not shoot for perfect TV footage. I think our audience is less concerned about perfect footage and more excited to see us pull it off under these public land conditions.
I walked back to the perch that gave me a view down to the west. Nothing other than some of the most scenic views in Montana. As I walked back to where Brad was manning the spotting scope, he commented that he saw something moving in the burned timber across from us. “Bull! Two bulls!”
That always gets my attention. I put the binos up and quickly had three bulls moving in the timber across from us. If they continued on their path, they would come about 500 yards below and to the south of us. Not sure what was said to whom, by whom, but Brad and I have been at this long enough that we know what the other means, even with the garbled cussing and frantic scrambling that usually ensues.
Brad saw me sneaking south, staying behind the ridge crest, peaking over to see where the elk were moving. I had lost sight of them when I went dropped into some timber to hide our advance. I peeked over and could see them now on the edge of the burned mess on the other side of this opening. They were below us, but moving from our 10 O’clock to our 3 O’clock position. If they continued on this path, we would have some shooting.
I used a few small snags for cover as we moved to the lip of this ridge. The bulls were now making their move. There were four of them. Two raghorns in front, a five-pointer, trailed by a small six or a big five.
I had the bipod out and a round loaded. I ranged the snow-free patch they were headed to – 374 yards. Brad asked which one I was going to shoot. “The one in the back.”
With Brad set up and telling me, “I’m good. I’m good.” I was following the bulls in my scope. They were easing toward us, giving a quartering angle. Dang, this is too good to be true. Stop for a few seconds, and one of you will get to be a TV star.
Finally, they stopped. They are all facing us, contemplating the best way to get the hell out of this life-shortening meadow. They turn and start back to their path of left to right. I am waiting for a shot. I no more than whisper for such luck and the last bull stops and mills around.
I set the CDS dials to 350 and ask Brad if he is ready. “Roger.”
I get the crosshairs on the bull and he turns, giving me a quartering shot. In the three seconds he stands there, I am rock solid on the point of his passenger-side shoulder. I could shoot, but if he turns towards his pals, I will have a broadside shot.
At full broadside, he is dead. Or, at least if I perform as I have on many other elk shots at this distance, and some further.
He takes some steps forward, continuing at a “quartering to” angle. Damn it! Now, the tops of some burned trees below me are obscuring shooting lanes. He has now disappeared below the tight cut that runs under us and forms the west rim of this basin.
I tell Brad to follow me. I move further south, knowing if they keep their same path, we will intercept them at less than 200 yards as they come up from the steep bench they just disappeared below.
To his credit, the guy sitting on the rock as if hunting whitetails, appears to be on the trail they would take. Two problems will hamper him – the wind is blowing strong from him to the bulls. And, he is off the crest, down the west side of the ridge, and the elk are on the east side of the crest.
I am set up and I wait for the bulls to appear below us. This is going to be too good. This never happens to us. I wait, now feeling the tremble of adrenaline. I tell Brad where they should come out. He gets ready. We wait. And we wait.
Something is not right. Elk on the move will not mill around in an open meadow this late in the morning.
I move forward to a point that exposes me to any animal in the basin. While under the lip below us, the elk evidently smelled the other hunter and doubled back, heading fast to our left, up and out of the basin. Rather than going SW as they were, they are now going NNW, and going fast. Not going to shoot at a group of bulls running away.
I’m thoroughly disgusted with myself. We were handed a gift and somehow I was not able to capitalize. I had a good public land bull in my crosshairs and wanted a better shot with better footage. With this shot I am 98% sure would have killed the bull, given the rest, the range, the calm conditions, etc. But, it was somewhat of a scramble for footage. I recalled last year in NM when I rushed and even though felt 90% confident, I did not make a lethal shot. Given they were moving closer to us, it seemed good to pass that shot and set up for a better opportunity.
I will admit, without my desire for perfect footage, I would have taken that shot, feeling very comfortable with the rest and conditions. Brad and I looked at the footage and he was on it long enough that if I had shot, it would have worked for TV. I should have just trusted him and pulled the trigger. Having done this for six years, I know when the chaos is creating a marginal situation and when calm provides the great footage we try to acquire.
I gambled and lost. I probably would not have been so disappointed if I had only gambled with my own ante and lost. Rather, Brad had anted up a huge amount of effort and commitment, and that was also lost in my gamble for better footage. I am sure Brad wanted to kick me in the head. But, having seen me pass a lot of other shots, he knows that is part of what comes with filming a show with me.
The bulls escaped us and continued down the ridge, taking them on a path that would give them sanctuary of private land, if they could safely travel the mile and a half of public land needed to get there. We listened for gun shots as the elk coursed the timber below us. Judging from the silence, evidently they avoided all hunters on their trip to private grounds.
I spend the next half hour explaining to the camera how I could have messed up that one; why I chose to pass; how I was sure we would get an epic opportunity. Still in disbelief that one of those bulls in not wearing my tag.
Yet, in some respects, the episode was just improved. We showed how you can scout and plan a public land hunt and even when hunting pressure changes your plan, patience and some adaptation can provide you a good opportunity. Most folks watching could have taken this opportunity and closed the deal. And, that is the goal of the show.
We sat there the rest of the day, glassing and glassing, not seeing much, other than a few hunters scrambling back down the ridges, retreating from the August-like temps and calling it quits early. I apologized to Brad at least a dozen times. My mind resolved that next time we had a chance I was going to shoot for the shot, not shoot for perfect TV footage. I think our audience is less concerned about perfect footage and more excited to see us pull it off under these public land conditions.
bmack
Member
Love his character. Congrats on a beautiful buck.
Wish I could tell you the next two days were full of encounters. Nope. Like many unseasonably warm hunts, not much was happening. Hunting pressure gets less and less each day, but I figured it would take a few days of silence to get the elk and deer comfortable moving around here during shooting hours.
The weather forecast was for a big storm to come in Sunday night, with major winds and huge drops in temps. Given our camp was set on a ridge full of burned trees, I wasn’t too keen on sleeping amongst these dead snags in 50 mph winds. I told Brad we should head back to town, leaving our camp set up and coming back once the storm blew through. I had plenty of work to do that could keep me occupied. And, we would just hunt one day later than planned, given we would lose a day in the middle.
We did just that. Given the winds down in the valleys on Sunday night and all day Monday, I think we made the right call. Even if we had been up there, I doubt much would have been moving in that wind.
The storm cleared out Tuesday morning and we headed back to camp. All things were intact, other than some snow drifts against the tent. In the fresh snow there were a lot of deer tracks. A good sign, for sure. Only two sets of boot tracks and we met up with those guys on our way in. They had seen nothing, as the clouds had everything socked in up on top.
Undeterred by the cloud cover, we left our camp and decided to get up on top and hope for some clearing of the skies. An hour later we were back on the ridge. No elk tracks in the fresh snow, just a few boot prints mixed with more deer tracks.
It took a couple hours, but eventually the skies dropped lower, making these ridgetops a blinding mix of bright new snow and reflecting sun. Watching the clouds move up and down the ridges was entertaining. The ridges were like islands among an ocean of clouds below.
I was beginning to worry that the storm may have pushed all the critters off these ridges. All the deer tracks were headed down, but this snow level was not even an inconvenience for something as large as an elk.
About 4:30 we watched another hunt come off a ridge about a mile to our north and five hundred feet below. He looked to be headed off the mountain for the day. We now had the place to ourselves. Brad and I both commented that the ridge to our north was probably a bust if that guy had hunted it very hard. We focused more to our east and west.
I looked at my watch – 5:00 pm. The sky had now cleared and it was getting pretty crisp, as forecasted. Thankfully, no wind to speak off. Brad cued up the camera and asked me for some comments. As I was about to stop glassing and turn to the camera, I thought I saw a deer on the far ridge where the hunter had just hiked down.
I told Brad to wait as I grabbed the spotter. I dialed it up to 40X. It was a deer, for sure. Obscured by some brush, it looked to be a much bigger body than the does we had seen. And, it was all alone.
It took about ten minutes for him to move into an opening. He was facing downhill and head on to our angle. I could now see it was a buck. “Lift your head buddy, I want to see your crown.”
And on command, he did just that. I told Brad he was not real wide, but seemed to have some junk on both sides and good mass.
I looked at the GPS. Direct line was 1.2 miles and the contour lines said we would have to drop down 900’ and regain 400’ on the other side, if we were to go straight at him. Better bet would be to sidehill along the east side of the ridge, staying above this basin that spilled to the east from the ridgeline that ran from this point on the south and tapered to lower elevations to our north. That would probably be a two-mile jaunt, but with almost all downhill.
And, if I plotted our course properly, and if the deer stayed in that same little bowl, and if the wind cooperated, and if ………
Things were not any worse for wear after clearing some snow. The view was even better.
Good thing those clouds clear below us. A deer would show up where that ridge disappeared into those clouds.
Any guess what way the wind was blowing during that storm?
Could have been a big herd of elk down on that bench, but you would not see them through these clouds.
The weather forecast was for a big storm to come in Sunday night, with major winds and huge drops in temps. Given our camp was set on a ridge full of burned trees, I wasn’t too keen on sleeping amongst these dead snags in 50 mph winds. I told Brad we should head back to town, leaving our camp set up and coming back once the storm blew through. I had plenty of work to do that could keep me occupied. And, we would just hunt one day later than planned, given we would lose a day in the middle.
We did just that. Given the winds down in the valleys on Sunday night and all day Monday, I think we made the right call. Even if we had been up there, I doubt much would have been moving in that wind.
The storm cleared out Tuesday morning and we headed back to camp. All things were intact, other than some snow drifts against the tent. In the fresh snow there were a lot of deer tracks. A good sign, for sure. Only two sets of boot tracks and we met up with those guys on our way in. They had seen nothing, as the clouds had everything socked in up on top.
Undeterred by the cloud cover, we left our camp and decided to get up on top and hope for some clearing of the skies. An hour later we were back on the ridge. No elk tracks in the fresh snow, just a few boot prints mixed with more deer tracks.
It took a couple hours, but eventually the skies dropped lower, making these ridgetops a blinding mix of bright new snow and reflecting sun. Watching the clouds move up and down the ridges was entertaining. The ridges were like islands among an ocean of clouds below.
I was beginning to worry that the storm may have pushed all the critters off these ridges. All the deer tracks were headed down, but this snow level was not even an inconvenience for something as large as an elk.
About 4:30 we watched another hunt come off a ridge about a mile to our north and five hundred feet below. He looked to be headed off the mountain for the day. We now had the place to ourselves. Brad and I both commented that the ridge to our north was probably a bust if that guy had hunted it very hard. We focused more to our east and west.
I looked at my watch – 5:00 pm. The sky had now cleared and it was getting pretty crisp, as forecasted. Thankfully, no wind to speak off. Brad cued up the camera and asked me for some comments. As I was about to stop glassing and turn to the camera, I thought I saw a deer on the far ridge where the hunter had just hiked down.
I told Brad to wait as I grabbed the spotter. I dialed it up to 40X. It was a deer, for sure. Obscured by some brush, it looked to be a much bigger body than the does we had seen. And, it was all alone.
It took about ten minutes for him to move into an opening. He was facing downhill and head on to our angle. I could now see it was a buck. “Lift your head buddy, I want to see your crown.”
And on command, he did just that. I told Brad he was not real wide, but seemed to have some junk on both sides and good mass.
I looked at the GPS. Direct line was 1.2 miles and the contour lines said we would have to drop down 900’ and regain 400’ on the other side, if we were to go straight at him. Better bet would be to sidehill along the east side of the ridge, staying above this basin that spilled to the east from the ridgeline that ran from this point on the south and tapered to lower elevations to our north. That would probably be a two-mile jaunt, but with almost all downhill.
And, if I plotted our course properly, and if the deer stayed in that same little bowl, and if the wind cooperated, and if ………
Things were not any worse for wear after clearing some snow. The view was even better.
Good thing those clouds clear below us. A deer would show up where that ridge disappeared into those clouds.
Any guess what way the wind was blowing during that storm?
Could have been a big herd of elk down on that bench, but you would not see them through these clouds.
I looked at my watch. I grabbed my rifle and put it in my gun bearer. Based on my energy level, Brad new we were heading out. With no words spoken, he was quickly packing and checking batteries. I was making note of the landmarks where the buck was feeding and plotting the best/faster/quietest/ path to get there.
It was 5:15 when we bailed off this little point that made the peak of this ridge crest. Straight north, then curving east and following that ridge finger to a rock ledge that would put us right above and about 200 yards west of the one big unburned fir the buck was feeding near.
We were making good time. Under the snow, a game trail existed and took me through the rock cuts and providing a flat trail across the otherwise icy slopes. We were now on the finger ridge, sneaking down the ridge, due east. Unfortunately, the wind sucked – heading right toward the buck.
Not much I could do about the wind, other than stay higher on the ridge than I might otherwise have. Now that we were over here, things looked completely different. There were flat rocks everywhere, all looking similar to the one I had marked above the unburned evergreen. And, now that I am looking for unburned firs, I see at least six of them scattered along this torched ridged. Crap.
I look at the GPS. The contour lines tell me I have at least another 400 yards to go before I find the flat rocks above that little pocket where the buck was last seen. We now put it in quiet mode, or at least as quiet as we can be on these iced-over rocks and carrying all this gear.
A lone fir top stands out as I peak around the rocks ahead. I look at the GPS. I am close to the elevation this buck was at. We ease forward, ready for anything. I am on my hands and knees. I get to the edge of the flat rock and can see everything below me. In this snow, I could see anything below us, even though the sun has now passed behind the ridge that forms the west ridge of the basin.
Dang. He must be further down the ridge. I stand, hesitating to skyline myself, but need to locate the next unburned tree. I see one just over the next little rock pile. I motion to Brad that we need to get behind the big table top of rocks 80 yards ahead and come in from above (north). The wind sucks and we have to come in from above, ready to shoot.
Seeing it is now almost 6:00 pm, I whisper and ask Brad how we are doing on filming light. He gives me a thumbs up. Cool. I turn and sneak ahead, moving from rock to rock.
I can now see the next unburned fir. If this is the correct tree, he should be right below us. He has been out of sight for a long time, so he may have moved down the ridge further, in the direction he was feeding.
On my hands and knees, I have nudge forward; the rifle loaded and the bipod fully extended. I move a foot, then glass below. Move forward another foot and glass again. I slowly rise up on my knees and can see a lot more. To my left I see something.
Holy crap. There he is, right below me at 75 yards, now looking for the source of that rotten odor. Brad is behind me a step. I turn and tell him the buck is right below us. Brad can’t see him, as he is not quite high enough of far enough forward to see the buck. I notice Brad is looking too far out from the cliff.
I duck down and tell him to get right on my shoulder. He will then see the buck.
Brad takes the camera off the tripod and decides he needs to go handheld to get this filmed. I move to my left about two feet. I am on my hands and knees. I move the rifle forward with my right hand, then support my weight with my left hand.
I hear Brad cussing. I look back and he is messing with the camera. WHT? The buck is now fully aware of us and tensed up.
I get back on scope. I have to continue supporting myself with my left arm fully extended as I lean forward on my knees. The bipod fit in between two rocks just below me and gives me a perfect rest, other than the fact that I can only have my right hand on the rifle, needing my left arm to support my weight in this shooting position.
I ask Brad if he is ready. It takes a couple seconds, but just as I am starting to look back and see what the hell is going on, he tells me he is good.
I get back on the scope. Just as I find my point of comfort on the cross hairs, the buck turns and is slowly moving downhill, picking his way through the rocks, away from the cliff. He has had enough. He is going straight away. What happens now took about one or two seconds, but it takes more than that to write about it.
He turns left and is now stotting from my right to my left, on the trail from which he had first emerged. His pace is not scared, rather curious, which gives me a second to inspect his path of exit. Without giving it any thought, purely from instinct and practice, I move the crosshairs to where he will be traveling.
As I mover the crosshairs to my left, I follow the buck to his front shoulder. Just before the crosshairs pass forward far enough to clear the front of his chest, the trigger breaks. The buck is knocked sideways from the impact, but gains his footing momentarily, making it about forty yards before doing his final cartwheel.
I looked at Brad. “Did you get that?”
“Hell yes. You toasted him. Don’t tell you’ve practiced that shot before.” He laughed and shook his head.
“How good of a buck is it? I was just focused on the shot and never really got a good look at his rack.” I was still wondering what we had shot.
Brad started chuckling, “Big enough. And dead enough.”
It happened so fast that I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it. It was all instinct. Once Brad said he was good, my mind had one focus – kill this buck. I don’t like running shots. I don’t take them very often and only when I am completely confident. I have never taken a shot with one hand supporting my weight and one hand on the rifle, let alone while a deer was slowly trotting off.
Brad reviewed the footage and laughed his butt off. The delay in him getting ready was caused by the view finder fogging up. We had been on the double time for most of a half hour. We were both sweating. When he put his eye into this cold camera viewfinder, it fogged up and he couldn’t be sure his focus was what he wanted.
Somehow, he got it cleaned off and in the process of doing so, captured some adult language sequences of me giving some rather serious scowls. Not sure if those are in focus, or not. If they can be made presentable, they will make for some funny TV. The beeper button will get a serious workout if that sequence is useable.
Whatever ends up being useable, I think this will be one of the best sequences we have ever had on our TV show. It will be less than perfect, but surely have that realistic feel to it.
Once we got things recomposed, we headed down the cliff and onto the slope where the deer had come to a rest. The blood trail was immense, with a chunk of lung lying on top of the snow. Pretty easy to find him.
He turned out to be better than I had thought. Very happy to have him. Anyone who hunts mule deer in SW MT knows that buck densities are pretty low and this is a fairly good buck for this area.
The shot hit the buck right on the top of the driver’s side shoulder blade, took out a few ribs, and then exited in the front of the passenger side arm pit. 180 grain Trophy Bonded Tip does a lot of damage from that distance and that high angle. Not sure why a .308 is such a killing round, but it sure is.
The hard work then started. We were left with the option of climbing back out of this basin, a couple miles to camp, mostly uphill in these frozen burns, or head downhill, bushwhacking down a burned creek bottom to a Forest Service road a mile below. Once on the road, it would be a couple miles to the trailhead where our truck was parked.
We opted for the downhill idea. In addition to all our normal gear, we split up the boned out bags of meat. Brad took the boned hind quarters and added it to his heavy load of camera gear. I stuffed the boned out fronts, the backstraps, the trim, and the head into my Metcalf and down the slope we headed.
I had the benefit of hiking sticks. Immensely helpful in these blowndown burnt trees now covered with snow and ice. Made even worse by heavy packs and steep, steep, grades. Brad improvised and found a way to convert the legs on his carbon tripod into hiking sticks.
It took two hours to go the mile to the road. We dumped our loads and I walked up and got the truck. Rather than hike back up to our camp and spend the night, we pussed out and drove back to Bozeman. A much needed rest, shower, and warm bed.
The next day we went in and hunted for elk. Fresh tracks were in our tracks from the night before, but no elk were spotted. Not another hunter around. By the new tracks in ours, a lot of deer had moved through that night.
We pulled our camp that night, taking down with us that which took us two trips to haul up. Along with all our hunting and production gear. These were some heavy loads, but the benefit of an established trail made it a lot easier than the night before.
Now, finished with filming tasks, I have three days to reorganize before heading off on the longest trip of the seasons – elk hunts in CO and WY.
As he lay.
Glad to get that load off the mountain. The Metcalf gets an "A+" for this kind of duty.
It was 5:15 when we bailed off this little point that made the peak of this ridge crest. Straight north, then curving east and following that ridge finger to a rock ledge that would put us right above and about 200 yards west of the one big unburned fir the buck was feeding near.
We were making good time. Under the snow, a game trail existed and took me through the rock cuts and providing a flat trail across the otherwise icy slopes. We were now on the finger ridge, sneaking down the ridge, due east. Unfortunately, the wind sucked – heading right toward the buck.
Not much I could do about the wind, other than stay higher on the ridge than I might otherwise have. Now that we were over here, things looked completely different. There were flat rocks everywhere, all looking similar to the one I had marked above the unburned evergreen. And, now that I am looking for unburned firs, I see at least six of them scattered along this torched ridged. Crap.
I look at the GPS. The contour lines tell me I have at least another 400 yards to go before I find the flat rocks above that little pocket where the buck was last seen. We now put it in quiet mode, or at least as quiet as we can be on these iced-over rocks and carrying all this gear.
A lone fir top stands out as I peak around the rocks ahead. I look at the GPS. I am close to the elevation this buck was at. We ease forward, ready for anything. I am on my hands and knees. I get to the edge of the flat rock and can see everything below me. In this snow, I could see anything below us, even though the sun has now passed behind the ridge that forms the west ridge of the basin.
Dang. He must be further down the ridge. I stand, hesitating to skyline myself, but need to locate the next unburned tree. I see one just over the next little rock pile. I motion to Brad that we need to get behind the big table top of rocks 80 yards ahead and come in from above (north). The wind sucks and we have to come in from above, ready to shoot.
Seeing it is now almost 6:00 pm, I whisper and ask Brad how we are doing on filming light. He gives me a thumbs up. Cool. I turn and sneak ahead, moving from rock to rock.
I can now see the next unburned fir. If this is the correct tree, he should be right below us. He has been out of sight for a long time, so he may have moved down the ridge further, in the direction he was feeding.
On my hands and knees, I have nudge forward; the rifle loaded and the bipod fully extended. I move a foot, then glass below. Move forward another foot and glass again. I slowly rise up on my knees and can see a lot more. To my left I see something.
Holy crap. There he is, right below me at 75 yards, now looking for the source of that rotten odor. Brad is behind me a step. I turn and tell him the buck is right below us. Brad can’t see him, as he is not quite high enough of far enough forward to see the buck. I notice Brad is looking too far out from the cliff.
I duck down and tell him to get right on my shoulder. He will then see the buck.
Brad takes the camera off the tripod and decides he needs to go handheld to get this filmed. I move to my left about two feet. I am on my hands and knees. I move the rifle forward with my right hand, then support my weight with my left hand.
I hear Brad cussing. I look back and he is messing with the camera. WHT? The buck is now fully aware of us and tensed up.
I get back on scope. I have to continue supporting myself with my left arm fully extended as I lean forward on my knees. The bipod fit in between two rocks just below me and gives me a perfect rest, other than the fact that I can only have my right hand on the rifle, needing my left arm to support my weight in this shooting position.
I ask Brad if he is ready. It takes a couple seconds, but just as I am starting to look back and see what the hell is going on, he tells me he is good.
I get back on the scope. Just as I find my point of comfort on the cross hairs, the buck turns and is slowly moving downhill, picking his way through the rocks, away from the cliff. He has had enough. He is going straight away. What happens now took about one or two seconds, but it takes more than that to write about it.
He turns left and is now stotting from my right to my left, on the trail from which he had first emerged. His pace is not scared, rather curious, which gives me a second to inspect his path of exit. Without giving it any thought, purely from instinct and practice, I move the crosshairs to where he will be traveling.
As I mover the crosshairs to my left, I follow the buck to his front shoulder. Just before the crosshairs pass forward far enough to clear the front of his chest, the trigger breaks. The buck is knocked sideways from the impact, but gains his footing momentarily, making it about forty yards before doing his final cartwheel.
I looked at Brad. “Did you get that?”
“Hell yes. You toasted him. Don’t tell you’ve practiced that shot before.” He laughed and shook his head.
“How good of a buck is it? I was just focused on the shot and never really got a good look at his rack.” I was still wondering what we had shot.
Brad started chuckling, “Big enough. And dead enough.”
It happened so fast that I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it. It was all instinct. Once Brad said he was good, my mind had one focus – kill this buck. I don’t like running shots. I don’t take them very often and only when I am completely confident. I have never taken a shot with one hand supporting my weight and one hand on the rifle, let alone while a deer was slowly trotting off.
Brad reviewed the footage and laughed his butt off. The delay in him getting ready was caused by the view finder fogging up. We had been on the double time for most of a half hour. We were both sweating. When he put his eye into this cold camera viewfinder, it fogged up and he couldn’t be sure his focus was what he wanted.
Somehow, he got it cleaned off and in the process of doing so, captured some adult language sequences of me giving some rather serious scowls. Not sure if those are in focus, or not. If they can be made presentable, they will make for some funny TV. The beeper button will get a serious workout if that sequence is useable.
Whatever ends up being useable, I think this will be one of the best sequences we have ever had on our TV show. It will be less than perfect, but surely have that realistic feel to it.
Once we got things recomposed, we headed down the cliff and onto the slope where the deer had come to a rest. The blood trail was immense, with a chunk of lung lying on top of the snow. Pretty easy to find him.
He turned out to be better than I had thought. Very happy to have him. Anyone who hunts mule deer in SW MT knows that buck densities are pretty low and this is a fairly good buck for this area.
The shot hit the buck right on the top of the driver’s side shoulder blade, took out a few ribs, and then exited in the front of the passenger side arm pit. 180 grain Trophy Bonded Tip does a lot of damage from that distance and that high angle. Not sure why a .308 is such a killing round, but it sure is.
The hard work then started. We were left with the option of climbing back out of this basin, a couple miles to camp, mostly uphill in these frozen burns, or head downhill, bushwhacking down a burned creek bottom to a Forest Service road a mile below. Once on the road, it would be a couple miles to the trailhead where our truck was parked.
We opted for the downhill idea. In addition to all our normal gear, we split up the boned out bags of meat. Brad took the boned hind quarters and added it to his heavy load of camera gear. I stuffed the boned out fronts, the backstraps, the trim, and the head into my Metcalf and down the slope we headed.
I had the benefit of hiking sticks. Immensely helpful in these blowndown burnt trees now covered with snow and ice. Made even worse by heavy packs and steep, steep, grades. Brad improvised and found a way to convert the legs on his carbon tripod into hiking sticks.
It took two hours to go the mile to the road. We dumped our loads and I walked up and got the truck. Rather than hike back up to our camp and spend the night, we pussed out and drove back to Bozeman. A much needed rest, shower, and warm bed.
The next day we went in and hunted for elk. Fresh tracks were in our tracks from the night before, but no elk were spotted. Not another hunter around. By the new tracks in ours, a lot of deer had moved through that night.
We pulled our camp that night, taking down with us that which took us two trips to haul up. Along with all our hunting and production gear. These were some heavy loads, but the benefit of an established trail made it a lot easier than the night before.
Now, finished with filming tasks, I have three days to reorganize before heading off on the longest trip of the seasons – elk hunts in CO and WY.
As he lay.
Glad to get that load off the mountain. The Metcalf gets an "A+" for this kind of duty.
bowhuntmontana
Well-known member
Thanks for sharing the story Randy. It was awesome!
