A Proclamation of Love For A River Bottom

[Nameless Range]

I have spent very little time hunting river bottoms in my life. Outside of hunting for whitetails with archery gear on Kelly Island near Missoula, when I was a student, I really had none prior to this year.

With the absolute decimation of mule deer in my neck of the woods, I decided this year that I would like to shoot a whitetail. I have permission to hunt a few hundred acres of local river bottom that connects to a bit of public land, and so that is what I did. To add some spice, I borrowed a shotgun from my brother – an Ithaca Model 37. I am the son of a man who bought enough ammunition in the 20th century to make it through the 21st, so the slugs I used were purchased in the early 80s, and were older than me (38).





I know river bottom is a habitat many hunters hunt, but for me it was been an absolute learning experience, and some of the most fun I have had hunting in my life. It almost became a sickness, and was a hunting that, the minute an individual hunt was over and I was driving home, I found myself wanting to turn around and do it all over again. And essentially, that is nearly what I did.

 

[Nameless Range]

I grew up hunting mule deer, and last year was the first in my life that I ate a buck tag, and I was surprised to find it felt just fine. That said, I set the goal this year of finding a whitetail, and with doe and buck tags in my pocket, I figured I’d be able to.

The stuff I was hunting was thick, and walking (or crawling) through most of it offered little more than 30 or 40 yards of line-of-site. It was filthy with deer. Growing up hunting mule deer, if you spooked a bunch of deer away, you would assume the deer had left the area. If you came up on fresh tracks heading the opposite direction of you, you would assume you were hunting the wrong way. Not so here, I came to realize that whether I spooked deer, or whatever the tracks did, didn’t matter. I’d be in deer shortly again. I walked slower than ever before in my hunting life, and it still wasn’t slow enough. What a strange and invigorating situation to know that before any hunt was over, I would have an opportunity again and again. I hunted this place and the surrounding ground 6 times – turning a thousand or so acres into 5 mile walks that would take 6 hours– and every single one of them had numerous opportunities at bucks and does alike.

 

[Nameless Range]

I think whitetail deer are more noble than mule deer. I believe the dumbest whitetail could beat the smartest muley at checkers. The way they always watch, the way the cut on a dime when they spot you, their fall coats and warnings to others and the trails I crawled on my hands and knees through -it combines into a hunting that surrounds you in such a different and unique way. In a single hunt, I would jump deer 20 times. Of that 20, I’d get a good look at 5 of them. Of that 5 I would have a shot at 2. These recurrent adrenaline rushes, these unremitting explosions of mammal and sticks 10 yards to my right, 5 yards straight ahead, and sometimes in the distance would wear my brain down. I’d get home, sit down in the chair, and instantly be dreaming in the literal sense – of brown fur disappearing into the willows.

I found a doe early on. She was alone and feeding about 20 yards off. She looked fine to me, so I shot her - the exit wound being the size of my fist. Ground shrinkage – she was a young doe, but my first with a shotgun.

Graphic picture but holy smokes do slugs do damage at close range.

 

[Nameless Range]

I then proceeded to fall into the mental illness this place gave me. Hunting there 5 times over 2 weeks, straining my marriage, shirking my responsibilities, taking time off work. To hunt somewhere where every time I hunted, I blew multiple opportunities on bucks, was just too fun.

A few days ago, I came upon a group of does and a couple bucks bedded down 40 yards ahead of me. They knew I was there, and blew off into the vegetation – something that happened all the time. I cut a hundred or so yards to the side, and circled around and ahead a quarter mile to where I thought they may have slowed down. I was right, and found this buck following a doe a hundred yards off in some of the most open habitat I could hunt. I knelt and leveled on him – one hundred yards is out there with this gun. It was single digit temps, and I could see his breath, and noticed that deer exhale a lot of air with every inhalation/exhalation. It was a beautiful scene. One shot and he fell, and I was pretty pleased that I could put the addiction down for a while.


(Can you see the doe that led him to me?)





The kids and I had tenderloins and rice that night, and after short lifetimes of me trying and failing to convince them that mule deer is tasty, it was easier with this buck - another change.

I’m now trying to work out a proposal to my brother to buy this gun from him. It was too much fun.What a refreshing and re-creating experience to switch up the habitat that I hunt. I learned a lot I didn't know, thought thoughts I hadn't before, and developed feelings about a chunk of earth - and I really appreciate that.

 

[marksjeep]

Well done!

 

[Hem]

This is great stuff^^^
As I head out to hunt its more likely I see muledeer today...but honestly 9.9 times out of ten rather hunt river bottom nasty.
When you are ready...try hunting a 200 acre bma sometime.
Congrats on the deer!!

 

[Deleted member 28227]

Great write up, I agree still hunting whitetail is a blast.

 

[RobertD]

I enjoyed reading this. I killed my first two deer with slugs from a pump action shotgun. I still get tempted to try and take another one with a shotgun even now

 

[NEWHunter]

Welcome to the party pal

 

[Gellar]

Awesome!

 

[MT_elk]

Very cool. Congrats!

 

[JMG]

Nicely done. That hole in the deer is one of the reasons I sometime carry a shotgun w/ slugs in grizzly country (when retrieving elk quarters). I found humor in the $1.69/EA on the box of slugs.

 

[trb]

Good stuff, great story, congratulations!

 

[JLDemo]

Awesome! It's been a change for me too hunting whitetails down here, they are very skiddish and play the wind with an obsession.

A little bit different scenario as the whitetail down here have grown up on soy beans, corn and wheat, but whitetail has skyrocketed up the list for favorite table fair in our house.

If your brother doesn't want to sell his, GunBroker has a few really slick looking Ithica 37.

 

[Southern Elk]

Nothing like hunting river bottom bucks. You should try it in some of the big swamps down south. I like to hunt thick terrain like that with my lever gun, a Marlin .444. It creates similar carnage.

 

[BirdManMike]

My goto river bottom gun is a .50 Hawkin It does not create nearly the same carnage but its does the job well.

Nice buck. Im after one that looks like that at the moment - Thanksgiving weekend might be when I get him. They dont get nearly as dumb as a mule deer buck, keeping at least a small semblance of awareness, but in the next couple weeks even the older bucks will be largely throwing caution to the wind.

 

[BRI]

Nice work! Good stuff!

 

[MarvB]

Great write up and an amazing adventure for you! Congrats, I see where it’s be an easy addiction

 

[OntarioHunter]

I grew up hunting Flathead river bottoms ... before they were filled with NR McMansions. Mostly I was hunting birds and, though those woods were full of whitetail deer, I never shot one. Mind you I have shot scores of whitetails but all while elk hunting. They are a challenge for sure.

I find stalking muleys through coulee bottoms is somewhat similar. You never know what you'll see around the next corner or up the next draw. Scenery is different but it still has a beauty all its own. The deer aren't as skittish usually but that just allows me to see more of them longer.

I'm curious why you guys all seem bent on hunting river bottoms with shotguns. Too many houses?

This is a deadhead I picked up in Flathed River bottom in 1965 (or '66?). That old boy's drop tine decendents still roam those bottoms ... between the houses. The rack had lain on the ground for perhaps a year, no longer or the flood of '64 would have carried it away. Some kid shot the bleached skull to pieces with a .410 and four points were missing. My daughter repaired and painted it and I mounted it. Though I didn't kill that buck, every time I look at it I can recall a different memory of a thousand or more hours spent hunting that network of woods, ponds, river, creeks, and meadows, usually just me and my hunting dog. I wish my kids could have enjoyed that. Now it's all gone. Forever. And ever. Sigh!

 

[Irrelevant]

Example A of HT literary excellence.

Great job, Great buck, way to stick with it