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The next morning dawned colder and clearer. No fog. Another buddy of mine, Greg took the day off to show me where he had seen a couple of bucks the day before. We drove out to a glassing spot and set up the spotting scopes. Immediately we began seeing deer. Before long, on a hillside about 2 ˝ miles away we spotted a herd of does. From out of frame, a big bodied deer came barreling through them, neck stretched out. We decided we needed to get a closer look at him.
We relocated the truck, parked and started to hike in, setting up on a grassy hill about a mile and a half from the hillside. It didn’t take long to determine that the buck was a shooter. Tall, with deep fronts and wider than his ears, I decided that if I had the chance, I would go after this buck.
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The next morning, Phillip, another buddy of mine took the day off work to show me some spots he knows.
The first half of the morning was more of the same; fog banks, small doe groups feeding unbothered by bucks, and rain. Looked like it was shaping up to be another disappointing day. Phillip is an optimist by nature, and kept cheerfully saying “We’ll see something. They can’t avoid breeding forever”. As we drove from one glassing point to another, I looked out the rain-spattered window and spotted a deer, about 100 yards downhill from us. “There’s a little buck.” I said casually, as Phillip stopped the truck and I pulled up my binoculars to look at the surprisingly heavy 2x2. I was staring at him, wishing he was 3 years older when Phillip leaned over me and whispered, “Big buck to his right!” I scanned over 20 yards, and sure enough, there were 3 deer that I hadn’t seen. All three bucks, and one of them was big. His head was turned to the side, but I saw deep forks and a heavy rack. No width needed! I dropped the binos and grabbed my rifle and clip. As I slipped out of the truck, the 2x2 started to take off and I knew the gig was up. By the time I racked a round and flipped out the bipods, they were disappearing into the canyon below. At that exact instant, a thick fog rolled in, covering everything for the next 20 minutes. We could hear the bucks moving up the other side of the canyon, unseen. When it cleared we made a 2 hour effort to locate them, with no luck.
The good news was that when the fog lifted around noon that day, it lifted for good. And the hold on the rut activity seemed to lift with it. First, we started seeing small bucks, noses to the ground, cruising. Then we started seeing larger ones; not shooters, but a young 4 point and a big crab-clawed 3 point, both dogging does pretty hard. I spoke to a couple of whitetail tag holders that were seeing the same thing, sending me photos and video.
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The next morning I am in my truck, in the rain, about a mile from the pin that Hunter had dropped for me, waiting for daylight. Just as gray light began to break, I started to ease up the road through the patchy fog. Movement to my right at the base of a cliff wall. Two does. Then another and another. Through the fog, like a ghost came the buck. One of the biggest 3 points I have ever seen. He was 25 or 26 inches wide, tall, heavy, big backs, but no front forks. Looked pretty cool through my scope at 200 yards, pushing does around in the mist. No way I am punching my tag on a 3 point the first 5 minutes of an 8 day hunt. Boy, he sure looked cool though. Besides, a mile ahead of me was a 170” class buck, locked down with a harem, just waiting for me. Right?
That’s when the fog rolled in. Really rolled in. Pea-soup, can’t see 50 feet, won’t lift, won’t burn off, FOG. For two days.
For the rest of that day, and until about an hour before dark the next, all I could see was fog. The only deer I saw, were right next to me. When it cleared about 4 pm the next day, it felt like someone had turned the rut off like a faucet. For the next 3 days, when we saw deer (between fog banks), we only saw doe groups and small bucks. At one point, right before dark, I drove past an ag field with a load of deer in it (almost 50). There were several small bucks out there, but nothing even approaching mature, and not one of them even acting “rutty”.
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I think at this point, looking back on it, I must have contracted a case of buck fever. Nothing I did for the next 10 minutes made sense.
Instead of getting up and finding a place to get prone or set up my bipods, or set up my tripod shooting saddle, I just squirmed and fidgeted clinging to the side of the mountain and going back and forth between my binoculars and my rifle scope. I would find him in the binos, then not be able to find him in the scope.
Of course I couldn’t find him in my scope. I was perched on the side of a mountain, with only one bipod leg resting on the ground.
For what seemed like 10 minutes (I have no idea how long it actually was) I played this game, evidently in a low-grade panic the whole time, incapable of detaching myself from my binoculars and seeking out a place to get steady and take a shot. Slowly, the buck began moving away from me up the hill towards the dark timber. The further he got from me, the more I think I panicked. My shuffling and shifting must have finally caught his attention, because the last look I got at him, he had me pegged. Staring at me, ears alert. More panic. He started making for the timber, not running, just walking quickly. I took a shot. As soon as I pulled the trigger, I saw the crosshairs bounce off of him. I racked another round and took a hail mary shot just before he disappeared. Dumb. Just dumb.
As my brain slowly returned to the planet earth, all the stupid things I had done over the last 15 minutes began to occur to me. I started seeing places I should have moved to before setting up. It never dawned on me that I could have shot prone (a large, flat rock 20 feet behind me would have been perfect). Or that as soon as I spotted deer filtering through the timber I should have pulled out my tripod and started adjusting the legs for the steep hill angle. Why did I spend all that time looking through my binoculars to relocate him for the 10th time, when I knew that I was not in a steady position to shoot? I cannot explain any of it. It was like 40 years of deer hunting experience disappeared and I was 13 again.
The worst of it was all the work that Hunter had done to get me on him. He thought he was going to get to see (in his words) “The biggest deer I have ever seen in this state during a hunting season” hit the ground. If you have never been in this situation before, I can tell you that no apology sounded sufficient.
I assumed (since I shot at him twice) that he would leave the basin for parts unknown. Hunter told me that was not necessarily the case (I should have listened), but I already felt guilty for leaving the Sergeant Major with 100 cadets for longer than I had promised him, so I decided to pack up and head home to work for a day before my wife and I had to leave for our anniversary trip.
Dumb move.
Hunter called the next day. Buck was back in the same basin chasing does. No way for me to get back there and do anything about it.
To make a long story short, while my wife and I were in Arizona, another tag holder found the buck and killed him. Word on the street is that he scored 187”…
Try sleeping after you screw THAT up…’
5 days later I was back at work, counting the hours until my scheduled time off. 5pm, phone rings again. Hunter. Found another buck. Drop everything and get up here. Two days before my scheduled leave. The Sergeant Major told me to go. My students said “Just go!” Even my wife said “go!” So, I went.
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About an hour later we figured we were at the same elevation that he must be holding. The hill was ridiculously steep, and we were side-hilled, trying to find a place to get level and comfortable. We spotted a couple of does, and some small bucks pushing them around. We figured at some point, this buck would have to come out of the timber, so we settled in as best we could.
The basin was pretty well burnt, with lots of burnt trees standing and fallen, brush head-high in some places, and patches of timber the fire had left untouched. Having spent most of my time hunting mule deer in the CRP/Wheat/Sage terrain around Walla Walla, I realized that it was taking time for my brain to adjust to mountain terrain. Specifically, the darn white rocks everywhere. Every hillside looked like it had a hundred mule deer butts on it. Deer seemed to disappear into nowhere, then reappear randomly in different areas. I knew it was me having trouble picking them up, since Hunter didn’t appear to have much trouble spotting them at all.
About an hour and a half before dark, we spotted a couple of deer filtering through the timber. We were in a really bad position to see them, so we moved. The new spot was even worse for comfort and stability, but offered us a view of the opening that the deer were moving towards. Trying to get steady, I pulled up my binoculars and immediately (by sheer luck) caught him in my view.
“Oh my God. That’s him!” I hissed.
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I think I had booked my 30th wedding anniversary trip with my wife about a week before I found out that I drew this hunt. No changing that. Not an option. So, I knew I was going to be unavailable for several days in the middle of the hunt. My plan was to take the 15th to the 20th off and hunt the last 6 days of the season.
On November 3rd, at about 5pm, I got a call from Hunter, a young man that lives in the unit and spends a lot of time in the woods. He said he had located a giant buck, and if I could take a sick day I really need to get up there. I dropped everything, arranged a sub and got on the road. Got up there to my buddy’s place around midnight, grabbed a few hours of sleep, and met Hunter for the drive up the mountain.
We parked about a mile from the basin where he had located the buck until shooting light, and then crept quietly into the foot of the basin. Within 5 minutes we had the buck located. He was pushing a group of does around, none of whom seemed willing to listen to any of his suggestions. We held tight, waiting to see what developed. After about a half hour, he began to follow what he must have decided was his best option up a brushy draw into the head of the basin. It was late morning when they disappeared into the timber. Hunter and I geared up to climb the hill after him.
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First off, I apologize for the delay on this story. As previously mentioned, I am a high school teacher, and in the 15 years that I have been teaching since I retired from the Army, I have NEVER taken a full week off. For anything. Not even for a surgery. So, as you can imagine, I needed a week to get my feet back under me before writing this. Our JROTC Program is pretty active, so the Sergeant Major that I teach with really had his hands full during my 8 day absence for this hunt. Secondly, I am going to apologize for the photos, specifically the lack of them. I just didn’t do a good job photographing (I usually don’t when I don’t have one of my son’s standing there to remind me to take one..  ).
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« Last post by Mtnwalker on Today at 07:38:59 AM »
A good first step would be to spend a few bucks with Gohunt or any of the providers that estimate draw odds for WA. Look at the odds and decide if you want to gamble but at least you won't be disappointed with unrealistic expectations.
I don't think gohunts drawing odds are even current for wa beyond like 2021
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« Last post by HntnFsh on Today at 07:29:01 AM »
Absolutely love my Meindl and Zamberlan boots!
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« Last post by HntnFsh on Today at 07:23:53 AM »
 Ive never worried about people putting in for tags in units they have never stepped in. THey have as much right to apply for those tags as anybody else.
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