Here’s the quick story for those who wish to avoid long-winded, sentimental writing. After many years of coming close, I finally killed a blacktail buck, a pretty nice 2-point and definitely a youngster. He was the only buck I saw outside of early November when my tag didn’t allow hunting. I had the multi-season tag and filled it during late buck. I shot him from a tree stand at 10 yards with a Remington model 721 in 270. I broke him down via the gutless method which I only knew from watching Youtube. Broken down and with the hide off, he cooled quickly and I carried him out in a Wild Things mountaineering pack, rifle in one hand, head in the other. I’m in good shape but I still took a beating walking out.
I removed all meat from the bone and had burger made out of most it, keeping only the backstraps out for steaks, stew meat and possibly jerky. My family loves the meat and it was their first time trying venison. It will disappear quickly. I’m still working on a European mount. Photos below.
How and why I got started hunting blacktails. I don’t have time for a hobby, especially an obsession. I have three daughters whom we home school, a career which demands long hours and tremendous energy, a night job and a home to maintain. But I’m most content when I get a regular diet of outdoor adventure, physically demanding activity and mental challenges which initially make me feel green and a little stupid. Before I got married, I was obsessed with rock climbing which satisfied the aforementioned requirements, but the pressures of raising a family made climbing take a back seat until my buddies became annoyed with me and eventually I quit. I maintained fitness through mountain biking and found it convenient and a little bit adventurous, but nothing like climbing.
Now I’m obsessed again, this time with hunting blacktails, and I blame two people. My little brother, Paul, was close with Grandpa and I assume that’s where he first took an interest in fishing and hunting. Paul and I were seven years apart and didn’t really have common interests. He was an ace mechanic (certified in aircraft), I could fix a bicycle. He didn’t love school, I studied mathematics. He loved George Jones and Johnny Cash, I liked rock-n-roll. But after we both moved out, we helped each other install metal roofs on our homes and collaborated on a variety of home-owner projects. He tried to teach me fishing out on Mineral Lake. I expressed interest in going hunting but never got the chance. He died tragically in January 2006. The last time I saw him was Christmas 2005. I had just endured surgery that would prevent my family from expanding. He walked into the kitchen where I was doing dishes and said, “Hey Frankensack!”
When Neighbor Dale invited me to join him and Kenny on a deer hunt, I borrowed a rifle from a friend. This was an opportunity to learn something my brother truly loved, maybe even feel some kind of connection. We walked around above Greenwater for four days and didn’t see so much as one deer track, but there was definitely something appealing about it. Then I did some mountain biking with a guy from work, Justyhunter here on HW. He’s one of the smartest, most resourceful people I know, definitely a DIY guy, and I admire him greatly. He’s also hard-core in his approach to hunting, and he talked me into buying another tag and riding bikes behind gates. That’s when I began to realize the possibilities of finding an activity as intriguing as rock climbing had been.
Coming close and making mistakes. Scouting with Justyhunter in the off season was always rewarding. We found some mature animals, located promising trails, studied Google Earth. But by rifle season, much of what we found while scouting turned out to be not completely useful. Areas which held deer in summer were almost void and one of our most promising areas got logged over the winter, erasing prime bedding habitat. I considered quitting several times as I just couldn’t locate even a doe on most days. But then there were those special moments which would tease me and make me feel inadequate but even more determined. The first opportunity was a big buck bedded in a sunny clear cut on a cold morning, easily the most impressive animal I’ve seen hunting. Because he was down wind I didn’t try to stalk but instead tried a shot I’d been able to make at the range. I missed cleanly and tried again. He slowly stood up, stretched, then walked into the woods. I later found out the reticles in my scope weren’t holding. I put a Buckmasters scope on, went back to the range, and on the third shot, a factory load blew out the back of the bolt, leaving a bloody circle on my face. I called Remington and they repaired my damaged rifle and shipped it back within two weeks.
The next season, I committed to a tree stand location for late buck and only one antlered deer came through, at 7:30 a.m. on a day when I had to attend a meeting at work. Last year, on the last day of late buck, after four hours in the tree stand I broke my own rule about cell phones. I hung my rifle from a carabiner so I could take a waz. Then I made the mistake of sending a text, asking my wife about the Seahawks’ score. That cost me 45 seconds, and while I put my gloves back on, a really big buck walked through. I couldn’t get the rifle out of the carabiner and shouldered quickly enough.
Deer hunting for me was becoming like that rock climb I kept falling off, making me doubt it would ever come together.
Multi-season deer tag 2015 The best thing about this season wasn’t tagging out, believe it or not. I put in for the multi-season tag so my season wouldn’t feel so compressed. I’m a weekend hunter and I felt the multi-season tag would put less stress on my family life and marriage, by not only allowing more days to hunt but also by spreading them out over several months. And I really wanted to try hunting in September when the deer are still in their summertime patterns. The dry summer of 2015 meant closures and no scouting. That meant dedicating my time to learning traditional archery. Justyhunter was incredibly helpful with advice, equipment and keeping me motivated by setting up 3-D targets on his property which allowed tree stand practice. My learning curve is not steep but I’m LOVING learning to shoot a recurve.
When September arrived, I felt ready except for a lack of recent scouting. I set up on a trail every weekend for a month and saw nothing. I was so certain of this spot I even spent the general rifle season in that stand, but nothing came through, not even a cow. I’d had enough and moved my stand back to my old spot.
Success! The story of the hunt and kill can be found at the top. The only thing I didn’t mention is another mistake. My knife wasn’t nearly as sharp as I thought. This was a lock-blade Schrade my little brother had given me, and I struggled mightily to process that buck. The knife was plenty sharp for cutting me, however, and I became blood brothers with the deer. When I returned home, I noticed my knife had acquired a “gut hook”. I quickly figured out I had broken the blade.
My brother, Paul. This hunt is dedicated to your memory.
Scouting with Justyhunter.
My project. Degreased but not yet dipped in hydrogen peroxide.
Moving tree stands.
The knife my brother gave me, which I broke during field dressing.
Archery practice in Justyhunter's field.
The family loves eating wild game!
