I went to sleep the night before opening day with a 102 degree temperature pissed off and depressed that I most likely would miss another opening morning. My dad and I were both already awake before the alarm went off, which I'm sure is pretty standard for the majority of us on this site. I got out of bed and put the thermometer under my tongue, 98.7! We got dressed and made the two hour trip to where we were going to hunt killing a Thermos of coffee along the way. I had previously taken a buddy to this spot during smoke pole season, and he shot a very respectable buck. I decided to walk in before light and sit right where he had been standing when he shot. It's a nice deep canyon that has several finger draws running into it, and the deer use it like a freeway to get from their night feeding spot to their bedding area. As it began to get light I immediately started seeing deer. 13 does/fawns worked there way down one of the draws and right up the other side of the canyon 50 yards from me. Just as they got out of site I heard rocks rolling to my left and here he came. No binoculars necessary to see that he would do just fine. He was coming right to me, but banked left towards one of the finger draws at about 250 yards. If he got in this draw he would be 300+ yards when I saw him again, if I saw him again. It was now or never, so I screwed my scope up on nine-power and let my .280 Remington model 700 mountain rifle bark. Right in front of him, son-of-a-b*tch. I jacked another shell in, and it turned out that first shot worked to my advantage. He turned and started heading right back up the trail that was going to put him right in front of me. I tried to stop him, but it wasn't happening. The next shot grazed him right across his chest, and then I put two right in the house. After my wild war hoop that could be heard on the moon, I walked down to the bottom of the canyon and claimed my buck. He's my second biggest buck to date, and I'm damn proud of him.
The next day found us on the same road killing the same Thermos of coffee. We were running a little late to execute our initial plan because we discovered the McDonald's on the way out of town is open 24 hours. Egg Mcmuffins take longer to make then one might think. It turned out my cousin was going into the canyon that I had shot my buck in the previous morning, so my dad and I devised a new plan. I had taken my uncle out during muzzle-loader season, and he killed a nice four point in a draw on the other side of this BLM parcel. We decided to climb into the head of the draw that my uncle had shot his buck in because it bordered a winter-wheat field. The deer had been funneling out of the wheat and into these draws during the day all year. We left the truck before light and began skirting a hillside that would lead us into these draw. Just as we were about to crest the hill I looked to my left, and their stood a buck feeding. It was an obvious legal buck. I grabbed my dads arm and pulled him down to a crouch and pointed. He rose to a knee to take the shot, and the buck had disappeared. Then it reappeared, ten feet to our right. The way the land lays out the deer got into the tiniest of crevasses and we couldn't see him. Fire was coming out of his ass as he made two bounds and was over the hill. We took off sprinting, and as we crested we saw him standing there, just about ready to duck over the next hill. My dad took aim and THUMP! Gone. It was an obvious hit, but by the time we got to where he had dove over the steep hillside and into a flat, he was nowhere to be found. Fifteen minutes later we were on blood and the track job began. Two gamewardens joined the fun after they checked our licenses and were in on the find. One of the wardens was a newbie so the older guy gave us all a lesson on aging deer by their teeth. We were all excited. Two days, two bucks, and a father-son moment not soon to be forgotten.
