Well, I’ve been putting this off but figured it was time to chronicle the Idaho hunt Eyeguard and I went on this past season.
As some of you may know, Eyeguard and I called it quits as a couple after almost 6 years of dating this last summer. We had planned a mule deer hunt prior to our split with a friend and were on good enough terms to carry loaded weapons around each other, so decided to continue with our established plan: ten days in the wilderness stalking big bucks. We arrived at our destination in the pristine wilderness with enough time to set up a base camp, pack our bivvy gear and gain a few miles and a couple thousand feet of elevation before nightfall.
Just at dusk, we saw our first good buck of the trip; an impressive typical four point we would never catch up to again. Under the beautiful moon we cooked dinner and waited for the rosy glow from the east marking all the optimism and hope a hunter could ask for. The next morning, the three of us canvassed the basin and surrounding hills for Mr. Big from the night prior to no avail. At noon, we packed our camp and headed for higher ground and rumors of a spring further up the mountain. With water running low, we were elated to find a source precisely where it was promised.
The next few days were spent at high elevations with very few deer sightings... it appeared the bucks had answered the call of the rut and were chasing does much lower in elevation. We decided to drop back down the mountain, regroup at base camp and try a different hill.
That night, I started losing the battle to a cold that slowly crept into my sinuses and lungs; the crisp air that had seemed so welcoming other days felt like broken glass to my agitated respiratory system. When we arrived back at base camp, I took the morning off of hunting in hopes to get the upper hand on my illness. The boys headed to the hills, and amongst the fog and snow flurries, Eyeguard spotted a buck worthy of a bullet; a non-typical 5x5 field judged at roughly 27 inches wide. He made an excellent shot on the animal and the 5 mile pack out ensued.
Meanwhile, after a few more hours of sleep I couldn’t stand it; it simply wouldn’t do to dream about big bucks when I was surrounded by opportunity to find one, so I took to the hills at about 9 AM. After 3 hours of hiking I spotted a group of does being worked by a buck a few miles off… I couldn’t tell just how nice this buck was but the horns looked impressive from that distance, so I moved in to roughly half a mile and put my spotting scope on him. Instantly my heart rate increased as my jaw went slack… THIS was the buck I had been looking for, and I would do anything to have an opportunity at him; he was a non-typical 5x5 with a heavy frame and plenty of stickers, giving him all the character that I could ever have wished for. I packed up the spotting scope, designed a route that would get me roughly a 150 yard shot, and took to the stalk. A cold wind started pushing at my back… I looked behind me to see a wall of snow approaching, so I quickened my pace… (one of many mistakes!) I worked past 4 of my buck’s does to conceal myself in a small subdraw… I was only maybe 300 yards from the buck of my lifetime… I started slowly climbing the ridge, my end goal in sight; a small clump of sage that would provide me with the perfect shot. But alas! A small 2x3 buck worked over the hill and busted me! He ran back over the ridgeline and spooked all the animals peacefully milling about below. I made quick work of the remainder of the hill already feeling defeat; the snow was falling in heavy clumps and my buck was working up the other side of a large draw. With no way to properly gauge the distance except the sight picture in my scope, I pulled up feeling surprised that the animal seemed to be within my comfort range. I fired and the buck stayed broadside, uninjured, seemingly mocking me. The snow was dropping in heavy, and with absolutely no feedback on where my bullet was hitting I had to let the buck walk out of my life. Wondering if it was my gun or just too far of a distance, with a sickening feeling I took the walk of shame back to camp, ensured my rifle was shooting true and hiked up to help Eyeguard with his deer. The next day, Eyeguard and I went back to the same basin. Not surprisingly, my big old boy was nowhere to be found. Eyeguard spotted a very respectable 4x4 with a reasonable stalk, so I decided to move on him. At 200 yards, I sat over Jarred’s knees on a steep slope and put him to sleep in his bed.
We made quick work of caping and boning out my trophy, got back to base camp and celebrated with whiskey in a hot spring. Life was rough! We made some fabulous friends and helped another gentleman tag out with a very nice buck as well. The views were amazing, the friendships are long-lasting, and the memories are forever.
Now Charlie’s Taxidermy is doing Eyeguard’s shoulder mount and my European mount. It’ll be worth the wait!
