Hirshey's Hunting Season 2016

[hirshey]

The water boiled and the aroma of Starbucks Vias filled the tipi as we warmed our hands on our cups and sat around the stove. Today was the day… someone needed to notch their tag, and we all had a feeling it was going to be Storm. We set out up the valley, crossing creeks and traversing rocky slopes while glassing small groups of deer. The absence of mature bucks with these does was astounding; small forked horns and spikes volleyed for position in almost every group we spotted. As the sunlight reflected off the very highest slopes, we paused to talk. The plans was for Storm to ascend the small ridgeline I had glassed all those bucks from the previous day, and Jeff, Derrick and I would circumnavigate the peak and come up the opposing ridgeline with the intent of slowly peeking over one of those high saddles at the head of the basin. Storm is a proficient shooter out to 700, so if necessary he had the skills and equipment to reach most of the basin. We parted ways with smiles and “good lucks”, with the plan of coming to assist him if he tagged out.

[hirshey]

The backside of that mountain ended up being more technical to ascend than we had imagined, with one instance in which Jeff had to relinquish his pack and Derrick yarded him up onto our platform secondarily. As hard-headed go-getters normally do, we persisted, and eventually crested a rocky ridgeline to glass the adjoining basin to the one Storm occupied. Fresh tracks, beds, and scats were abundant, but only a handful of does revealed themselves on the hillside. We continued up, and conquered the main peak to reveal miles of unglassed, untracked land. Immediately upon pulling up my binoculars, I spotted a mature buck a mile or more away across yet another basin. We were debating what to do about a stalk when a muffled shot rang across the terrain. Storm had tagged out on one of the 4 points I’d watched the day prior! With that knowledge, we were planning on scrapping the stalk on that other animal and going to assist. “Kari, go GET him! You and Derrick can go, and I’ll help Storm. I owe that man a debt, and I mean to pay it!” Jeff said. After a little debate, we agreed. Jeff and Storm were well within their means of handling that deer, so Derrick and I would make the long stalk to see if this animal was what I was searching for.

[hirshey]

Storm and my mother are equally as elusive when it comes to buck photos.

[hirshey]

Storm and Jeff sharing yet another packout.

[hirshey]

The basin was expansive, with miles of small sub-draws and ridges filtering into a seasonal creekbottom. Most the timber had seen fire at one point or another, and grass and brush dominated most the slopes. We slowly started our trek across the hillside, glassing other animals as they came to view. Derrick was behind me by quite a ways paying attention to new messages on the InReach when I reached a small timbered saddle. “Smells like elk.” I thought, as I kept an eye on the main basin. That thought hadn’t fully cleared my consciousness when my peripheral vison caused me to start; a beauty of a bull elk was staring right at me in the timber less than 40 yards away. I stopped, grasping for the camera I had just handed to Derrick as he wheeled and took at least a handful of unseen critters with him. So much for my hunting and detection skills! 

[hirshey]

I convinced myself that it was okay, since I wasn’t hunting elk anyway, but I was still chuckling and beating myself up over not paying enough mind as I moved through that saddle when the first snowflake fell. I looked back, trying to pick Derrick out of the landscape as the scenery started to look akin to an old television set starting to go out. It was snowing hard at this point, and by the looks of the clouds I didn’t anticipate the weather giving us much of a break. The darkening skies took what seemed to be an hour of our daylight away… when we started this stalk I had planned on 2 hours, but with the time invested and the blackened skies I estimated we had closer to 30 minutes left at this point. Yikes. Derrick and I regrouped; we put some hustle to our steps and made good time across the hillside, and if my calculations were correct we had roughly 300 yards of slope to cover before we could see that buck at a lethal distance. We started down the rock-laden ridgeline with almost 2 inches of fresh snow; the first we’d seen here in Idaho. My estimation of distance between us and those animals was soon put to question when a doe spotted us, blew, and took what seemed to be the entire hillside with her… at least ten animals tore down the ridge and into the drainage to the skier’s right. Shoot! Was that really our group? If it was, we were in for a long hike out in the dark with the guilt of knowing we could have spent this time helping Storm rather than chasing a shadow… shoot!

[Becky]

...my mother and Storm had it pretty much butchered by the time Jeff arrived for photos. 

...I don't know if I like the word "butchered" used when it comes to boning and cutting :-( I thought we had done a great job!   

Hi mom   

[hirshey]

We continued down the slope, and Derrick spotted them first; three does feeding across the hillside, and the rock our buck had been next to… we were right where we wanted to be, but where was our fella? The does continued to approach, feeding up and across the hillside, and inevitably were alerted to our presence. With still no sighting of their boyfriend, they disappeared down the ridgeline, but not so quickly as to describe it as “blown”. I knew they hadn’t gone too far, so we waited a moment, still losing precious light even with the storm system calming. We finally started easing our way down the hillside, surveying the timber and openings carefully as we progressed. As we approached a small bench in the ridgeline, I glassed up some animals moving through the timber below me. By the behavior, I knew the back one to be a buck, as he pushed the doe relentlessly across the slope. The darkening day and the black timber muted the shape of his horns; he wasn’t presenting many opportunities for inspection. Another shape caught my eye, and I glanced parts and pieces of another buck fast approaching the first. The strut and intimidation period was over before it started, as both heads collided. Grunts and bones melded together in the toothpick forest; who was what? I couldn’t tell. As I tried to sort it out, the first buck was flipped onto his belly on the ground as he kicked at his opponent. He regained his feet and ran, the second buck hot in pursuit. Moments later, a buck reappeared, pushing a doe back across the hillside. I took quick action on an assessment: this buck was a mature, heavy-horned animal, but due to his obvious affinity for fighting, he was only a four-by-two; his right side had broken off a few points. I decided he wasn’t my buck, and let him walk. Derrick approached as I stood and made eye contact. “Let’s beat feet… maybe we can get all the way back to base camp and still help Storm and Jeff.”

[hirshey]

As the terrain expanded into wider ridges, deeper canyons, and deeper creeks, Derrick and I came to the realization we most likely wouldn’t be back in time to help Storm and Jeff… that terrain is simply huge, and losing 5,000 feet in elevation isn’t easy no matter how you go about it. The moon, and my mom, welcomed us back to base camp with a nice fire in the tipi, but Storm and Jeff still hadn’t returned, so we unloaded our bags and set out to go help. Alas, we were like two ships in the night as Jeff and Storm made it back to camp and Derrick and I wandered around looking for them until the InReach notified us they were home, and dinner was hot! Now that Storm and my mom were tagged out, it was their plan to pull stakes and head for home, but not before hiking back up to tear down spike camp. Storm, Jeff and Derrick insisted they were up to the task without my mother and I tagging along, so we didn’t put up too much of a fight; we decided to have a mother-daughter day and hiked to a hot spring. We recounted our favorite moments of the trip, stressed just how wonderful it was to spend time with each other in that fashion, and even sipped on some booze to warm us to the core. We got back to camp with ample time to plan and prepare dinner for the fellas, who seemed to fly up those hills and back down to us. Because this was our last day as a full team, we made sure to snap a few photos of Team Awesome’s successes so far.

[hirshey]

Some of my most favorite humans

[hirshey]

 
We knew today was supposed to be a terrible weather day, but the peach skies seemed to welcome us onto the slopes after we bid my mom and Storm farewell. Today, I planned to head back into the basin Storm harvested his buck to see if that larger 4 or career 3 point had any new competition. There were an impressive amount of does in there, and the rut had to start at any moment! This was also where we’d found the most wolf sign, so Derrick and Jeff were on board to head that direction as well. A few hours into our hike, the freezing fog started rolling up the drainages. “No, you don’t, weather!” I chided, but it was no use; fog and a thoroughly bone-chilling drizzle seized the hillsides. Determined, we continued to glass the basin through the small breaks in the fog, and were rewarded with a glimpse of a mature buck. We made an excellent stalk plan, and closed the last half-mile expertly; sneaking across a small rock outcropping and wedging ourselves into an opening, we would be set to see what the basin had to offer if the weather turned in our favor. Derrick slid into a nook up and to my left right as the cloud of fog disappeared. Without even raising my binoculars, I saw him. “Derrick! Get behind me! NOW!” I whispered excitedly. I took off my scope covers and lifted my rifle, and he came into focus. It was that big, mature 3 at less than 60 yards. Part of me wanted him, but a little voice told me to wait, so we simply took photos of him, waited for the fog to roll back in, and disappeared undetected. After a little more glassing, the wind picked up and there was no escaping the chill it brought with it. We toughed it out a little longer before our stubbornness became outright ridiculous, and we decided to call it a good day. We were dreading our arrival back at camp with a dwindling firewood supply and soaked clothing, so you could imagine our surprise when we saw a wisp of smoke originating from the stovepipe of the tent on our return; my mother and Storm had stayed one more day due to weather, and had kept the place warm, and stocked with wood. We shared the stories of the day, dried out, and fell into easy sleep that night.

[hirshey]

The chuckar found it cold, as well

[hirshey]

Big 3

[hirshey]

Broadside

[sumpnz]

You are a vastly more patient hunter than I am.  No way I could have passed up that many opportunities for legal animals.