Hunting Washington Forum

Quote from: Klickitatsteelie on November 05, 2025, 07:08:20 PM

For the “low numbers” this year hunting has sure been good.

Dang!
Nice work.

You guys continue to prove that sitting home and complaining doesn't get it done.

Sad part is college athletes are now making millions of dollars now and I definitely but some blame on youngsters not entering the hunting world trying to catch the dream of athlete money.  There was some big news lately that the state of Michigan reported has lost over 200,000 deer hunters over the past 10 years.  No matter what you call it the stats are not going our way.

On the drive out, we ran into the two orange clad hunters from the day before.  They had harvested Limpy and had just gotten him back to their rig.  It was a husband and a wife, and we stopped to chat. The lady had the tag, and told us that she had taken a shot at Limpy 3 days earlier and hit him (which is why he was limping).  They decided to stick to that area and hunt that buck until they either found and finished him, or ran out of season.  She was very relieved when he appeared that morning and she was able to take him.  They had not seen him at all the day before when Greg and I and Rusty had all watched him chasing does.  They must have been too far down in the draw to see the top of the hill. 
This has been one of the most memorable hunts of my life.  From the depths of missing what may be the biggest mule deer I will ever have in my scope, to the frustration and disappointment of having a big buck 300 yards away in the thick fog and having to listen to him escape to the high of finally getting it all to come together after 7 days of grinding. 
The gratitude I feel for all the people that messaged me (a lot of guys offering advice on this forum), calling me, texting me and taking me out.
Thanks to everyone the helped me out; Hunter, Phillip, Jeff, Richard, Scott, Rusty, Travis, Steve, and Tony who covered for me while I was gone from work.  Thanks to my wife who held down the fort while I was gone, and to all my students who insisted that I abandon them for a week in the middle of their competitive season to hunt the tag that took my 24 years to draw.  And of course Greg who basically risked life and limb so I didn’t have to get him recovered on my own.
Sorry I don’t have more pictures to share of this hunt.  Lots of times I thought to myself “Dang.  I should have gotten a picture of that.”

I held onto the antler rope, and Greg took the back leg rope and we slowly began to sidehill down the mountain, aiming for what looked like the clearest route.  Mostly, we made downhill progress, trying to angle to buck sidehill in the direction we wanted.  About an hour and 1/3 of the way down we had made it to a spur that looked more or less clear.  I gave Greg my pack and took the antler rope in both hands.  Digging my heels into the mountain, I started skidding the buck down, feet first.  It was a barely controlled decent.
At one point, I hit a rock and lost control, the rope ripping out of my hands.  My precious buck shot down the hill.  50 feet below us was a large bush.  I prayed that he would hit it and stop. 
Turns out, a sage brush makes a far better jump than it does a brake.
The buck hit the bush and launched end-over-end down the mountain.  I watched in horror as he disappeared from sight.  Over and over I could hear him tumbling down through the rocks, praying that every time I heard a crack, it was a stick and not an antler.  Finally, about 250 feet below us, the noise stopped. 
Greg pulled out his binos.
“I think I see him” He said.
“Does he still have antlers?” I winced.
“Yeah, I think so.” He said. 
“Well, if he does, then that was totally worth it.” I said.  “We got him 250 feet in about 5 seconds.”

So, there I was.  In what was now fast becoming pitch dark.  No flashlight (in my pack, back lower on the mountain), no OnX (funny how much I hate technology, but that is one thing I quickly became dependent upon), and no communications that I hadn’t already sent.  I was about 2 miles from the road (no way I was bailing off that mountain the way I came in-that would be a death sentence). 
I gutted my buck as best I could without light, propped him  open to cool, and set off in search of my pack.  That was a fun 30 minutes in the pitch dark.  I finally found my pack and retrieved my headlamp for the hike out.  Two hours later I was back at the road. 
In my mind, the only way to get that buck out was going to be to hike back in there with a pack frame and take him out in quarters.  If I wanted to keep the cape (which I did), it was likely going to be three trips.  Everyone who was helping me had to be at work the next day, and Greg has a bad back, so it looked like it was going to be a solo endeavor. 
Sitting down with Greg and Phillip that night, Phillip looked at the buck’s location on OnX.  He pointed to the stacked contour lines that I had climbed up to get to him. 
“That’s all downhill” He said.  “Just take him down that.”
“You’re crazy” I said “I came UP that hill.  It’s way too steep.  With a pack with 100 lbs of meat, I’d fall to my death.”
“Nah.” Phillip said.  “I’ve got something that will work.”
Rummaging around in his garage, he pulled out one of those roll-up toboggans that easterners tie deer into to drag them out. 
“Just put him in this.  Tie a rope to his antlers, and lower him down the hill.  Gravity will do all the work.”
I still doubted that Phillip had a clear picture of what that “hill” entailed, but Greg agreed that it was a better option than making three trips at two miles each way to pack him out. 
The next morning, Greg was waiting for me.  We had served in the Army together as senior NCOs before he retired in 2010 and me in 2011.  Despite bad knees, bad back and a host of other ailments, he insisted on going in there with me and doing what he could to help.  I was overwhelmed with gratitude, although to be honest, I was a little worried that he would get injured. I dropped my truck off at the bottom of the mountain, and we drove Greg’s truck around to take the more gradual hike in.
We took it easy on the two mile hike to get to the buck.  Around 8am we heard a shot coming from the hillside where Limpy was the day before.  Sounded like a hit, but we didn’t see the two orange clad hunters from the day before.
Halfway up the mountain, it was pretty clear exactly where my buck was laying.  Crows and magpies were all over my deer. 
When we chased them off, we took stock of the damage they had done.  They had gotten inside of the propped open body cavity and pecked out about half the exposed ribcage and ruined one tenderloin.  One eye was pecked out. 
Greg and I took a few more pictures, but between the rigor mortis and the pecked out eye, we couldn’t really get any good photos, so we got to work. 

Unfortunately, when I got up, they spotted me.  And there we stood for about 3 minutes, locked on each other.  There was a large pine tree about 10 yards to my left.  I slowly started to inch towards it.  The buck (about 500 yards away at this point) stayed locked on me until I disappeared. 
Lining up with the tree, I slowly backed out, keeping the tree between up.  When I got out of sight, I made a beeline round to the west, and then up the steep hill. 
20 minutes later I crested the back side of the hill.  I had 10 minutes of shooting light left.  Laying prone, I glassed the lone tree.  The doe was up feeding, with the buck bedded next to her.  They had come off the private ground and were close to the top of the hill.  I found him in my rifle scope and got a range.  391 yards.  I noticed some brush between me and the buck.  His vitals were covered up by the greasewood he was laying in, so I crawled forward until I was clear of the brush, putting me closer to 350 yards from him.  I had just gotten prone and found him in my scope again when the doe moved a little too far from him for his liking.  I would have liked about a minute longer to get comfortable before taking the shot, but it was going to be now or never.  I found his shoulder and squeezed the trigger, just as he was taking a step forward.  I heard the shot hit, and he stopped, kind of hunched.  The second shot dropped him in his tracks.