Foxtrot1
Well-known member
Posting on another thread made me remember this story:
In 1997, my brother and I took our first trip out west for a rifle mule deer/elk combo in Colorado. My brother Randall had always(still does) had a fetish for big freaky mule deer bucks. The year before our trip, I don't think I made it an entire day without having to listen to his ranting about them. Our home became a stockpile of mule deer hunting videos and every magazine published about western hunting during the countdown before heading to Colorado.
Once on the ground, he was like a kid waiting on Christmas morning. We were hunting a private ranch that had some alfalfa fields the deer were piling into. On the drive into camp, we saw some respectable bucks and that only fueled his fire. We were paying a trespass fee for a group of us from Alabama to hunt about 5k acres. A "friend" had arranged the hunt and by the time we were on the ground, the group had swelled to the point there were 14-15 of us stacked on the 1 ranch. Randall and I quickly got tired of the sea of orange from out group and started branching out to the adjacent forest service lands that were on the back side of the ranch. We were on the 4th day and hadn't seen anything to get too excited about, so we were moving into some rougher ground looking for some places to set up and glass for deer coming out of the hills in the afternoon. Since we were down to 1 rifle we had been stuck together. It was his turn to carry the rifle, so he got the first look over the ridge we were going up. Suddenly, he threw his pack down and dropped into a prone shooting position using his pack as a rest. The first shot echoed across the canyon. He quickly reloaded and cracked another round off... then another. After that last shot he rolled onto his back and started fist pumping, kicking, and screaming. Even to this day, I have never seen him so ecstatic. I rushed up to the top to see what he had shot and I couldn't believe it. There was a GIANT mule deer buck laying on the opposite ridge across from us. Randall had shot him in his bed and he hadn't even gotten up! We ran all the way down our ridge and back up to the buck, that was laying under a juniper tree. When we got there, Randall was so excited he dropped to his knees in front of the deer and just sat there, speechless looking at him. I couldn't believe my brother had shot this deer. It was easily 180-190", 30" wide, 5x4 with trash kickers on both sides. He was everything you want a big mulie to be. It was the biggest deer I have ever seen, had to be pushing 300lbs. After a few minutes, Randall reached out tentatively to grab one side of his antlers to move him. We he grabbed him, the deer didn't move. Randall tugged harder. He wouldn't budge, he was pretty well frozen . We both realized it at the same moment. I started laughing hysterically and he sulled up pouted like a wet hen. We didn't know it at the time, but one of the other guys in camp had gut shot him the previous day when he was down in the alfalfa and he had made it up into the hills to bed before he expired. He was perfectly tucked into his bed, just like he was laying there.
To this day all I have to say is "remember when you shot that frozen deer, not 1x but 3x?", whenever I want to get his hackles up or if he gets too big for his britches..
What's your best "Too good to be true" hunting story?
In 1997, my brother and I took our first trip out west for a rifle mule deer/elk combo in Colorado. My brother Randall had always(still does) had a fetish for big freaky mule deer bucks. The year before our trip, I don't think I made it an entire day without having to listen to his ranting about them. Our home became a stockpile of mule deer hunting videos and every magazine published about western hunting during the countdown before heading to Colorado.
Once on the ground, he was like a kid waiting on Christmas morning. We were hunting a private ranch that had some alfalfa fields the deer were piling into. On the drive into camp, we saw some respectable bucks and that only fueled his fire. We were paying a trespass fee for a group of us from Alabama to hunt about 5k acres. A "friend" had arranged the hunt and by the time we were on the ground, the group had swelled to the point there were 14-15 of us stacked on the 1 ranch. Randall and I quickly got tired of the sea of orange from out group and started branching out to the adjacent forest service lands that were on the back side of the ranch. We were on the 4th day and hadn't seen anything to get too excited about, so we were moving into some rougher ground looking for some places to set up and glass for deer coming out of the hills in the afternoon. Since we were down to 1 rifle we had been stuck together. It was his turn to carry the rifle, so he got the first look over the ridge we were going up. Suddenly, he threw his pack down and dropped into a prone shooting position using his pack as a rest. The first shot echoed across the canyon. He quickly reloaded and cracked another round off... then another. After that last shot he rolled onto his back and started fist pumping, kicking, and screaming. Even to this day, I have never seen him so ecstatic. I rushed up to the top to see what he had shot and I couldn't believe it. There was a GIANT mule deer buck laying on the opposite ridge across from us. Randall had shot him in his bed and he hadn't even gotten up! We ran all the way down our ridge and back up to the buck, that was laying under a juniper tree. When we got there, Randall was so excited he dropped to his knees in front of the deer and just sat there, speechless looking at him. I couldn't believe my brother had shot this deer. It was easily 180-190", 30" wide, 5x4 with trash kickers on both sides. He was everything you want a big mulie to be. It was the biggest deer I have ever seen, had to be pushing 300lbs. After a few minutes, Randall reached out tentatively to grab one side of his antlers to move him. We he grabbed him, the deer didn't move. Randall tugged harder. He wouldn't budge, he was pretty well frozen . We both realized it at the same moment. I started laughing hysterically and he sulled up pouted like a wet hen. We didn't know it at the time, but one of the other guys in camp had gut shot him the previous day when he was down in the alfalfa and he had made it up into the hills to bed before he expired. He was perfectly tucked into his bed, just like he was laying there.
To this day all I have to say is "remember when you shot that frozen deer, not 1x but 3x?", whenever I want to get his hackles up or if he gets too big for his britches..
What's your best "Too good to be true" hunting story?
