Hirshey's Hunting Season 2016

[bankwalker]

There's alot of days left on this hunt. Better not make us wait to long!

[fishngamereaper]

Man...if I cut up my animals in the dinning room like that ...

[Boss .300 winmag]

Man...if I cut up my animals in the dinning room like that ...

You cut them up were there's room. 

[hirshey]

Man...if I cut up my animals in the dinning room like that ...

Haha!  That's the way Jeff rolls...

[teanawayslayer]

Kari, looks like you guys had a great season! Lots of good memories! Thanks for sharing!

[hirshey]

The morning materialized slowly for Derrick and I; the camp was solidly sunlit by the time we departed. As we made our way up the planned route, a single shot rang out in the crisp morning air. We couldn’t pinpoint the location due to the terrain, but contacted Jeff and company to see if it had been them… it was not. No additional sounds were made to help narrow down the sound’s location, so we continued on with our hunt. As we progressed, I spied a few shed antlers and picked them up, much to the dismay of Derrick, who lives for shed hunting. He wanted nothing more than to find some good elk antlers, but deer would suffice as a good substitute if the day was right. He gave me a hard time for finding them all, so when I spied the match to a shed I had picked up 200 yards back resting beneath a large ponderosa pine, I made it my goal to let Derrick “discover” it. As he approached the tree, he looked over his left shoulder and missed it as he passed… “Derrick! I think I hear something down the slope!” I said, trying to get him to come back around the tree. He paused, but didn’t advance, so I sat down and started glassing down the hill. He moved around the tree and sat on one of its roots, not even giving the base of the tree a glance. After 5 minutes, I smiled, got up, grinning. “Stay right there…” I said, as I took a photo of him and the shed antler in the same frame. I pointed it out and we both had a good chuckle. We picked it up and continued on our stalk.

[hirshey]

I'm glad he REALLY loves me...

[206]

What EVR

[hirshey]

We didn’t have to wait long for our next bit of excitement: a medium-class buck and a handful of does were working their way across the steep slope below us, and didn’t want to stick around to be assessed. We dropped in elevation off of the climber’s right side of the ridge and hustled up to the next bench. We beat the deer into position and they pushed along the hillside below us. It was a nice buck, but it wasn’t MY buck that day. We continued up the ridge, dropping to either side to glass sub-drainages and ridgelines on our ascent up the main ridge. The steady gain in elevation took us into the waning hours of sunlight, and we sidehilled across the mountain just shy of its peak to drop down the next major ridgeline for the last remaining hour of daylight. We were rewarded with a few new animals to peruse, but none made the cut for so early in the hunt. I was snapping photos of the Derrick in the last bits of light when the message came across the InReach: “Deer down! Mother Goose claims another victim!” My mother had tagged out, and we were miles away from assisting.

Derrick and I tore down the slopes in the fading light, trying to make it down to the trail system for a faster approach back up to my mother’s location. We knew she had help in the form of Jeff and Storm, but we still wanted to be there to share the experience and see what she had put to rest. We were operating solely on moonlight when we reached the trail and really turned it on to high power, hoping to still be of service. (Derrick also found a really nice elk shed on our hike out… in the moonlight, so the excitement level was all-around high.)

We passed spike camp, and decided to download some weight and start the fire so when we returned there’d be some coals to work with in the least. We raced out of camp, thinking we were going to be of service to our comrades, only to find we made it about a quarter mile before meeting up with our group. My mother had been left to her own devices for about 30 minutes at the end of the day when a 4 point had given her ample time and opportunity for a 70 yard shot from the trail. She took full advantage of the deer’s miscalculation and made an expert, single shot to notch her tag. She was fretful that I would be disappointed that she hadn’t waited for something “bigger”, but in all honesty the most important thing was that she was having fun and was able to experience this place that has become so special to me. I hesitate to be too emotional, but this was a truly special trip for me to be able to share with such an important group of humans to me… and especially her: to spend the time with my mother in that remote, wild country was an absolute bucket list item, and I am SO proud to be her daughter and to have those genetics as part of my own… if I can hike like her at that age, I’m set for decades of adventurings!

[hirshey]

Photo op

[hirshey]

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

[hirshey]

Jeff making sure it was properly photo-documented.

[jackmaster]

Awesome write up Hershey, how do you like that tipi?? Is it spacious enough for 3 and gear? How much does it weigh, sorry for all the questions but it looks like a sweet set up for packing in??

[hirshey]

We arrived back at spike camp to a roaring fire, and enjoyed Mountain House meals with some fresh meat. With the whiskey and wine circulating, we made a plan for the morning: Jeff and Derrick were going to pull the elk down to the river on a “dead-sled” and then float it back to base camp, and Storm, my mother and I were going to haul deer meat back as well. But first, Storm was going to make an earnest effort to take his pet deer up the hillside from spike camp.

We started the next morning all abuzz: the excitement to see Storm’s buck up close was almost palpable. Jeff and I couldn’t resist; we made the ascent up the hillside with Storm to help spot and watch the action as it unfolded. The setup couldn’t have been more calculated, but the events following were unexpected… as we arrived at the perfect glassing perch, the does feeding across the hillside couldn’t have been easier to locate, but the buck tending them was a different story. As we continued to glass farther up the basin, my heart sank: golden eagles, ravens, magpies. It was highly likely someone shot the buck formerly known as “Storm’s buck”. An hour of glassing revealed only smaller bucks, and Jeff needed to head back to camp to assist in the packing of his elk, so only Storm and I remained. “Did you hear that?” Storm asked. “Sounded like talking…” I gave a deep sigh as I looked at Storm, snapped a few photos, and pointed out to him where two guys were hiking out of the basin, with that well-photographed buck on their pack.

It was disappointing, but certainly an understood risk of passing up a buck. We often talk about “last day bucks” or “5th day bucks”, but this was a good reinforcement of the notion that if an animal excites you the first time you see it, you may want to take it. Hunters, although the pressure is low, are not completely absent from this area, and a buck you see one day may push out of the basin to tend hotter does. Unfortunately for Storm, that option was out, and he was starting to run out of steam after such long, strenuous days. We headed back to spike camp, split up my mother’s deer and hit the trail back to base camp to reconfigure and shake things up.

[hirshey]

Bye-bye buck!