Kid had an extra doe tag, and with no big rush to get it done we took a short trip on a rainy saturday to find a likely candidate. Right off the bat, 200 yards from the truck he finds a deer. Nope, sorry, that one is a buck. Next thing I see are does coming over the ridge, stopping skylined, they've seen us and stare us down, not offering a safe shot before sliding back the way they came. Sorry bud, there will be others, (unfortunately for me probably not this close to the truck).
After some more close encounters, and a close quarters lunch under the shell of the pickup, we move to another canyon. Several switchbacks later, we end up on a closed down quad trail that runs the ridgetops and stroll till we find a canyon that looks promising. Rain stops and deer suddenly appear as I stand to remove my raincoat. Of course they seem unhappy at my thrashing around and move off, stopping about 150 yards away trying to figure out what all that was about. I gave Logan my re purposed ski poles, tied together with a bit of on old bicycle inner tube as shooting sticks, they are the old mans trecking poles, too and had him sit to wait these does out. After a bit, they started feeding again, and offered him a shot thaat he felt good about.
I watched through binoculars as his chosen doe ran further into the canyon, before tipping over in the bottom of the draw. We did a little celebrating, and marked the spot, just down from the lone pine and packed over.
In memory of the story about tagging first, he notched the second tag of his life, before the grip and grin. I did a little hillside processing, gutless style, thanks for the primer big fin, and loaded up a pack for the trip out. We got back to the pickup right before dark, and headed home to show off for mom.
I sure hope i get to spend a lot more years helping him grow.
After some more close encounters, and a close quarters lunch under the shell of the pickup, we move to another canyon. Several switchbacks later, we end up on a closed down quad trail that runs the ridgetops and stroll till we find a canyon that looks promising. Rain stops and deer suddenly appear as I stand to remove my raincoat. Of course they seem unhappy at my thrashing around and move off, stopping about 150 yards away trying to figure out what all that was about. I gave Logan my re purposed ski poles, tied together with a bit of on old bicycle inner tube as shooting sticks, they are the old mans trecking poles, too and had him sit to wait these does out. After a bit, they started feeding again, and offered him a shot thaat he felt good about.
I watched through binoculars as his chosen doe ran further into the canyon, before tipping over in the bottom of the draw. We did a little celebrating, and marked the spot, just down from the lone pine and packed over.
In memory of the story about tagging first, he notched the second tag of his life, before the grip and grin. I did a little hillside processing, gutless style, thanks for the primer big fin, and loaded up a pack for the trip out. We got back to the pickup right before dark, and headed home to show off for mom.
I sure hope i get to spend a lot more years helping him grow.
