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The Young Warrior - A Brief 4th Rifle Deer Hunt

TOGIE

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Is this a hunt worthy of a write up? Meh, that's up to you, if you choose to read on.

I find that every hunt develops it's own personality and traits emerge that can weave a story together. This is no glory hunt, it is a 0-1 point Mule Deer hunt and from closing the front door behind me to being back at the house this hunt spanned a mere two separate days and a grand total of roughly 14 hours time.

This hunt was actually never fully on the calendar. It was sort of a backup tag, an insurance tag. This year was the year of Wyoming General Elk and Wisconsin Whitetails. Those hunts were the big one put on the calendar that would dominate and be the priority. This buck tag, that I snatched on leftover day back in August, was just to have, in case time or lack of success dictated it needed to be pulled out of the drawer.

I filled the General Tag, but I drove home from Wisconsin empty handed. Not for lack of opportunity. I'm a new archery hunter and quickly learning that killing deer with a bow is not the easiest thing to simply go out and do. Two wounded and likely still living Wisconsin bucks later, 4th season was the last ditch opportunity to put some more meat in the freezer. I also had a cow tag good for the unit I was hunting that actually provided a decent opportunity to find one, but mule deer hunting is more fun and in this unit they could likely be found in the same place I intended to go. If I found cows I would try and shoot one, if I found bucks, I would try and shoot one.
 
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I had a doe tag in the foothills close to home a couple of years ago that I invited my older brother to join me on. He had never gone out hunting before and had shown interested in joining me, that tag seemed like a perfect starter for him for some particular reasons.

In 2019 my brother was diagnosed with Supraventricular Tachycardia. A rather unsettling form of arrhythmia that due to what I would describe in my own words as an electrical short in the heart that would lead to one's heart, at least in his case, randomly and without notice spiking up to rates of 170-190 bpm and would last for hours. These episodes would strike randomly, anywhere and any time and once they would end, after what could be three hours, he would pass out from exhaustion on the couch for more hours at a time.

Hearts malfunctioning is, or should, at least, be considered a very scary thing. This would go on for months and months without a clear diagnosis from the doctors. While each doctor and specialist was nearly fully confident that whatever was going on would not kill him it's not hard to see how, from my brother's perspective, it was difficult to be convinced that his heart wouldn't just stop beating from this malfunction any time it happened.

He would eventually be properly diagnosed after plenty of testing and wearing ridiculously expensive heart monitors all day that would fill up with data for the cardiologists to analyze. Once diagnosed they would successfully perform a catheter ablation to find the electrical short in the heart and laser it shut.

Even though his heart was now healed this whole saga would to severe anxiety for my brother. He could no longer be in remote places without being gripped and paralyzed by anxiety. He could no longer exercise, or hike, or bike as feeling his heart rate naturally rise would lead to panic attacks that it would fail him.

Progress was made though and the anxiety would slowly become less gripping and paralyzing. We signed up for a trail half marathon last fall and he completed it, but I had to be one step behind him the entire time reminding him that his heart would not stop and that we were not that far from medical aid. Completing that was a big help for him mentally.

That first doe tag was a help for him too. I remember how unsettled he became as darkness fell around us that night, but he pushed through it.

So, when he expressed interest in coming out again, my own plans on where to go would be thrown out the window. We'll focus on staying a little closer to home and not hiking nearly as deep as I maybe would like. Let's hope we can glass up some deer so he can experience an even better taste of what hunting is.
 
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I picked him up for an afternoon/evening hunt. Drove out to an area I've always been curious about but really never felt was worth the time. That made it exciting for me as I always love new country. I was at least confident we'd turn up something but not overall not very confident in finding a buck to shoot, even if any buck was fine with me.

The glassing spot I had chosen was about 1.8 miles in, only about 700 feet to gain. My brother's anxiety starting spiking once we began our ascent after making it about a mile in. I've noticed how much it helps to talk it out. I always make sure to mention how I've had some near panic attacks while solo hunting that come from nowhere and for no reason.

He's staring at his Garmin watch, the says to me that his heart rate shouldn't be in the 170's. Even though he is breathing hard and i'm barely breathing at all I grab my wrist and count out loud in tempo with my own heart rate and then let go and say, "yeah, that's gotta be between 2-3 beats per second, you're fine." It helps.

Just keep talking, change the subject, the top is not far. Once it levels out and we start picking around for a sitting spot I can tell he's calmed down.

We choose a spot and set up the glass. Sitting and glassing is something he's never done but I suspect he'll be a natural.

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It's only about 1:30 so the game is generally to see if we can find bedded deer.

Finding bedded deer is hard, obviously, and those bushes on the hillsides in front of us are deceivingly large. One need only look at the bushes in front of us to be reminded of that.

The hills are empty until about 3:15 when my brother spots the first deer, a doe, meandering just near the valley bottom below and right of us along a game trail that meanders in and out of the tree thickets in the valley bottom.

I became instantly confident we'd turn up a buck.

Between 3:30 and 4 the hills became alive with deer.

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It seemed that none of these are bucks.

10 deer counted, all under 700 yards, and at that distance, even a small buck with just my binos, I was 100% certain we'd be able to turn up antlers.

I caught a deer way up valley on a steep hillside munching on a bush and watched it intently for probably 15 minutes. I was certain it had no antlers. Several more emerged up valley near the valley floor that we also watched intently, no antlers.

There was one that I thought maybe I caught in the act of a butt sniff, but they were also following each other up the hillside in a line and maybe it was just that it got a little too close to the deer in front of it. At 480 yards if it was a buck I was certain I would see antlers, no matter how small.

I was dumbfounded. Fifteen deer milling about and not a single buck? During the rut?

Oh well. We kept watching them, hoping a buck would turn up as the evening progressed.

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@TOGIE Enjoying following along! Good luck on the deer, and you are a good brother. I have an older and younger brother so i am proud of you!
 
As the sun began to set and we entered the final 30 minutes of shooting light I stood up to go check the valley behind us that we'd been half ignoring.

My brother snapped this pic of me while I was over there. We're in the non-descript foothills of Colorado, areas it would seem are entirely overlooked by everyone but the occasional hunter. We're not in Rocky Mountain National Park, Glacier, Black Canyon, or the Tetons but, in these moments, none of those places can even come close to comparing.

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With about 10 minutes of shooting light left and no bucks to show for it we decided to pack up and start hiking out.

All in all, got outside, found a bunch of deer, looked at beautiful country. I really enjoyed this brief outing.

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We stopped for dinner on the way home and caught the end of the Nuggets game while munching on burgers.

Back home the focus shifted back to Thanksgiving with the family tomorrow.

That was a good day.
 
The hunt was interrupted by Thanksgiving and so will the write up

My mom had decided to do a small 10lb turkey and we coordinated that I would bring some prime rib in addition.

I had cut the prime rib into 4lb chunks to make cooking faster knowing we would be busy trying to arrive with dog and baby.

The rib roast had been sitting in my fridge on cooling racks tented with foil for a few days seasoned with salt, pepper, and garlic powder. Once at my parents I threw together a bowl of melted butter with fresh rosemary, fresh thyme, shallot, and fresh garlic and rubbed it all over. Prime Rib only took about 2 hours in the oven - I highly recommend turning it into smaller chunks to save time. Then sliced, poured the leftover pan juiced on, and sprinkled with Jacobsen Salt.

It was superb. Many Old Fashioneds were had, football was watched, and obsessive grandparents alleviated my need to worry about the baby and I relaxed.

Turkey has no place on the Thanksgiving table, never has IMO - this was a first and a dream come true for me.

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My plan had to been to embark on Black Friday off further away to some land i'm familiar with. Go deep in some rugged country and hopefully turn up cows or a nice buck.

But man, all those deer kept nagging on my mind. I know I'd find deer where I was planning to go, and likely elk, but I was bothered to have not found bucks amongst so many deer.

I wanted to go back and look again. Plus, a big weather system began it's march into region throughout Thanksgiving Day and the game was gonna change. I wanted to take another look at those deer. If nothing, I'd push further to my other spot the next day.

It was going to be another evening hunt - tired from Thanksgiving and a promise to be a helpful husband for half a day Friday.

I hit the road around 11:40 and was hiking by 1 after having to make a post Thanksgiving Dinner pit stop.

It had been snowing all night and was in the teens today.
 
I started working my way in and up. I was going to stay more in the valley due to the poor glassing weather and the cold. I'd slowly work my way through the valley staying at least half way up the hillside. Move a little, stop and watch, glass free hand, repeat. With animals more likely to be on their feet in this weather I figured if the deer were still here, it wouldn't take long to find them.

I moved right into where they had been seen a couple days before. It was a different world today, like being there for the first time.

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Not turning up deer yet. Maybe they decided to wander elsewhere when the snow moved in, maybe someone blasted at them on Thanksgiving Day. But I wasn't yet convinced they were gone. I kept picking along the rolling hills the make up the valley sides - one big valley the sides of which are broken up by perpendicular mini valleys that you have to hike up and down to keep moving up the main valley - now moving past the point at which we watched the majority of the deer two days ago.

I stop to do some more glassing and with my naked eye against the snow I catch em, way up valley on an open patch of ground 4 deer.

Ah ha, they are still here. Sweet. They look like does.

I watch them for a bit when I catch that butt sniff again.

"Son of a ^&*% I whisper to myself, that is a freaking buck isn't it?"

I dunno why I curse so much while hunting? Is it just me? I swear I'm a pretty wholesome guy.

I start working up there to get a closer look. Also knowing there are likely many more deer over there.

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It's just the way I hunt.

To fill tags, that is. Not in the sense that it would be waste to go home empty handed if you could've shot something, but just because, filling the tag is, frankly, why I went. I love being out there, hiking, looking, watching, letting my mind wander in the quiet, the hopeful excitement of turning something up. It's all part of the package. The hunt wouldn't be the hunt without all the parts that make it up and that's what makes it such a great hobby.

But it's just the way I hunt. To fill tags and bring home stuff to eat. If I'd brought home a buck from Wisconsin I'd maybe be treating this one different. But maybe not.

So it didn't matter what kind of buck may be over there. If confirmed a buck I'd be trying to take it home with me.

So off I went, to close the distance and get a better look at these deer.
 
As I was carefully making my way over there I saw the last deer fall into the ravine in front of them. This ravine went directly down into the valley bottom that provided a big opening leading into trees or it would go further up the valley side. The deer really had no where to go without me seeing where they went. I crept up to with 170 or so yards of their last known spot.

My suspicion is they would head into the valley bottom, get on their game trail and head back towards where they were a couple days ago. I don't know why, that's just what it felt like they'd do.

They remained out of sight. So I just sat in the dead quiet waiting. It was gently snowing. There is nothing like the dead quiet while it's snowing. It's almost a deafening quiet. It was cold, but my mind was action mode, not even aware of the serenity around me. Waiting in anticipation for where the deer would eventually emerge.

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I finally catch head poke up in the bushes. They had moved towards me out of their ravine and to my left up the tiny ridge, this is good, it's Script B. Script A would be going down into the valley bottom on their game trail and walking out in the open less than 70 yards from me. But having come in my direction is good too.

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I see the one doe pop out and keep walking to my left. None in tow. I keep waiting. Almost 5 minutes pass as this doe very very slowly has meandered further. Finally, I see another head emerge and pull up my binos.

Well, well, well, you are a buck. How bout that. My mind was instantly 100% certain this was the buck that I thought I saw do a butt sniff on Wednesday night. Turns out, my brother had seen it too but neither of us mentioned it until we were back at the truck that night and he said the same thing "I mean, I thought I saw it do that but I really wasn't sure, but it made me wonder"

The funny thing is I hadn't discussed this aspect of Mule Deer behavior with him and it was something he immediately picked up on. With neither of us having seen antlers and the butt sniff being so incognito we both just kept it to ourselves as a big 'ol nothing. And now here I am again, questioning my skills as a hunter having watched a buck for almost 2 hours two nights ago and just thought it was a doe the whole time.

How many other bucks were there? Was that one way the hell up there alone on a nasty slope a buck? Probably was, probably a better buck.

This one was young, but, as usual, he'll do.
 
The bushes are tall, there is no laying down for this shot. I maneuver my pack onto the bush in front of me to create a rifle rest. It was a enough movement that the deer look over. Not spooked but curious.

I had been ranging things the whole hike in and my range finder was not working in these conditions. I made some attempts to range the buck to no avail. But I know they were under 200 yards. Close to 150 I'm sure. Looking at onX after the fact I think it was about 110-120 yards.

I get my rest and rack a round. I had forgotten my ear plugs in the truck which pissed me off as I've already dicked up my ears over the years from going to small venue metal shows in Denver during high school and college and I'm adamant about protecting them from here on out.

Knowing that he is in the 100-200 yard range I suspect that as long as I hold center of mass my bullet should hit vitals without knowing exact range. I mean, that's the way they always used to do it right?

He's quartering towards me and I hold essentially on his shoulder near to me and squeeze off a round. The world goes silent and my ears ring. I hate doing that. I hate it so much.
 
He looks as though nothing happens and then about faces and trots down into the valley bottom and starts working up the very steep other side of the valley.

Deer explode from everywhere. About 6 pop up out of the bushes between me and the deer I just shot at. Several more run out of the ravine from where the buck just came and it's a fire drill gone wrong. They're just running in every direction without a clue what to do.

I'm watching him trot up the steep hillslope and he looks perfectly fine. The string of cursewords start flowing out my mouth. I track him in the cross hairs and he stops and I let off another. He starts trotting again, looking fine and yet another string of cursewords.

He stops again and I squeeze one more and he drops like a meteor just hit him.

This is what I would qualify as a rodeo. Flustered shooting not going well. My spreadsheet will tell you I'm due for one about every 4 animals I shoot, and here we are, right on cue. They all seem to have one thing in common: bad or failed ranging of the target. My hypothesis is the failed ranging is something that effects me mentally. At the distances these have occurred the distance should be not an in issue in terms bullet drop. It seems to be all of my longest, 250 to 400 yard, well ranged shots that were one shot drops. We can't negate the fact that more often than not when I shoot something I manage to find a way to lay down for the shot. This was none of those things.
 
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