Free: Contests & Raffles.
I have another that I will tell another time, it involves my great grandpa and a certain "tree", those that know me know what I,m talking about. I,m going to be gone for a few days, I,ll type it up when I get back. Keep them coming everyone, all are great stories, we've all been there
It's been 4 years and I've barely spoken about this to anyone. A late October morning found me about 6 miles from my truck in one of my favorite blacktail spots. It was cold and sleeting. I hunted from first light down a finger ridge out of the alpine meadows into the timber below. What an epic blacktail morning it was. I was expecting to see a mature buck any minute with hopes of seeing a beast I had on trail cam. Around 11 o'clock I decided to come back out of the timber and hunt down the next finger ridge in the same way. About 100 yds above tree line I sidehilled over a saddle to have different look at the area I just came from. This is where the image of the buck I had on cam will forever be etched in my mind. There below me at tree line was the unmistakable white faced, black browed buck staring straight at me, slightly quartering my way. This was one of those moments where you go right into shooting mode. I extended my bipod, got a solid rest and held mid shoulder. With his angle I knew this would drop him instantly and in the high country this can be extremely important. At the shot I knew immediately it was true and sure enough his belly and chin hit the dirt simultaneously. Probably the most sure I'd ever been of an instant kill. His hooves went in the air as he rolled over downhill into the mountain ash and disappearing into the timber. I sat there in disbelief of what just happened. It happened so quick! I had to carefully work my way to where he died as to not join him in the steep icy slope. Upon arriving it was easy to see where he tumbled. I began following with an uneasy feeling in my stomach but didn't know why. About 60 yds down my uneasiness increased dramatically as it led off a 200'+ cliff. At first thought I was bummed at how much more work this was going to be. I worked my way around the side of the cliff and back to the bottom where shale tapered the slope. Now the uneasiness turned to a upset stomach as there was no sign at all of him at the bottom. Looking up the cliff I could barely see any rock due to all the heather and stunted alpine fir growing out of it. I instantly realized he was hung up in there somewhere. I went back and forth around that cliff several times trying to get into it. At one point I slipped at the top nearly going over. (I've never told my wife about that) I decided right there that no deer was worth ruining my wifes life. I backed out and sought help from a friend. Two days later Skagitsteel and I attempted to go look for him but we couldn't get wirhin 3 miles of the cliff due to a massive storm that dropped several feet of snow. The snowpack got deeper from there all winter. I've been to the bottom of that cliff several times since and have yet to see even a bone. Poof. Gone forever. Still saddens me very much.
I've had a couple of bucks haunt me over the years, although none more than the first truly big Blacktail I found. One summer I went on a mission exploring as many new places as possible, one of these places I turned up two great bucks after a 4 hour uphill bushwack into some really remote country. One of them was especially good. I filmed those bucks for a good hour watching, studying, seeing where they would go. I spent a couple of trips going in and watching these bucks. They showed up consistently enough (to this day I have never seen any blacktail buck consistently expose themselves as these two bucks did that summer) I felt very confident to pursue them on the archery opener (I had multi-season tag). I was a little over-confident and went right after them when I found them feeding on a dense hillside opening morning. I stalked in for about an hour, crouched under a tree and watched the big one I wanted begin to feed toward my shooting lane. I was new to shooting archery and felt I needed to be within 50 yards for an ethical shot. As the buck worked toward the shooting lane I ranged it.... or tried too. My rangefinder was completely fogged and I could not see a thing. I frantically tried to wipe the rangefinder clean as the buck began to step across the narrow shooting lane between a fir tree and mountain ash bush. I ranged it finally after the buck had already walked through...... 45 yards. The buck spotted me and moved up the hill having a staredown with me at 70 yards. No way was I taking that frontal shot with the buck looking at me so I slowly backed out and he took off. I thought no big deal I'll get him on the next stalk, he saw me but never winded me that first time. The next day I found them again, except way up in some cliffs feeding near ridgetop. It was impossibly brushy on top so no way was I going to get above them without blowing every other deer off the mountain. I foolishly thought I could stalk in below them and just wait till they fed down. I did not account for the 7 other deer underneath them that I couldn't see. All was going according to plan until the first doe saw me.... pretty soon it was deer running in every direction. I could not find them again after that until two weeks later when I was still hunting through some thicker stuff with my bow and had a deer head and huge rack pop up 40 yards in front of me nothing but brush between him and I. I was relentless after that buck that year, I hung about 3-4 cameras, I hunted bow, muzzleloader, and rifle. He became so elusive I could not even get a trail camera pics. I got one trail camera picture of him (the only one that whole fall) of him walking the other way right after I passed by the same camera 15 minutes before. Needless to say, he had me figured out. I pursued that buck roughly 30 days of hunting that year and never saw him after the last time I spooked him during archery. I left my cameras out and never had a single pic of him during the rut, I ate my tag pursuing him, passing a couple of smaller bucks in the process. The next year I was determined as ever to figure him out, I figured out pretty early in the summer that he was still alive, however, I knew I had a lot to learn about what he does in the fall if I wanted to kill him. I put out a lot of cameras that fall, I believe it was about 9 cams. I was getting pretty regular pictures of him until he lost velvet then 'poof' he was gone from the cameras again. I moved cameras ll over the map that September, I think over 20 different locations to try and figure out where he went or what he was doing. Some wise blacktail hunter encouraged me not to worry that he was still in the area somewhere. My confidence was low and I took another buck in a different spot (actually shot the wrong buck out of a group of 3 bucks) early in the season, not a buck I should have taken, but hard not to take a buck early after tag soup the year before. I decided to do one last 'scouting day' for him that fall in the last week of October to see if I could figure out where he went and the other mature bucks in the area that all seemed to completely disappear. That late October morning I set out in the dark and began the 3-4 hour scramble. I chose to go to the one part of the ridge I had never been to and had written off because it looked like the least likely spot for those bucks to be, turns out that is where they had all gone once shedding velvet. As it got light I caught a deer in the timber 30 yards in front of me, it was target buck #2 who was with the big one that the first summer. I couldn't believe i,t their I was with a dark heavy horned 4x4 heading into his late prime years staring at me in an open season and I had no tag left! I continued my hike and less that one hour later in a small clearing in the timber I climbed over a knoll and there was the other one! The big mature buck I had been obsessing over for 2 years, staring holes in me at 30-40 yards. I learned a lot that day, one of the hardest lessons, it killed me to see both those monsters that day with no tag left. That day and that buck was the driving force that drove me to learn, scout differently, go slower, be patient and wait for the right buck. Sometimes the bucks that haunt us just make us better hunters in the end. I pursued that buck for 3 years and never got him. That spot held the healthiest population of high country deer blacktail I've ever seen. Several cats and a few wolves moved in and that entire spot was wiped out, not to mention the bear population keeps the fawns mowed down. I've gone back every year and it's never been more than 10% of what it once was, unfortunately, despite my efforts by removing bears.
