I was looking through my computer and came across a piece I had written about a deer hunt I went on a few years back. Thought I would share it with you guys. Hopefully it all fits but if it doesn't, I will break it into seperate posts.
My deer hunting adventure began like many others, me daydreaming about it all summer and counting down the months, then the weeks and finally the days until we left for deer camp. When departure day finally arrived and my father and I had checked our lists and gear at least ten times we finally fired up the truck and headed for our adventure.
The hunt takes place for the last week of general firearm season in Eastern Washington on public land, do it yourself style. Our lodging consists of an old tavern that was converted to a make shift lodge after the logging industry died off in the area. It comes complete with a pool table, walk in cooler with working taps and an elevated loft with foam pads for sleeping. We usually have anywhere between 9 and 12 men on this hunt, mostly fathers with their sons so it is a great time all around, except for the snoring and occasional line waiting for the single bathroom. From here, each person or father son pair either drive off, or in our case hike off to their favorite hunting spots.
The spot that my dad and I hunt is probably about a mile and a half or so hike through a creek bottom to an area that is a mixture of clear cuts, jack pines and thick timber. The other hunters in our party usually drive up the road a little ways and hike a short distance into the woods to their spots. I am the type of hunter that feels that the farther I get away from people, the better chance I have of seeing bigger bucks so I have no problem making the hike but I will admit that after doing it for a week straight it does get old. It is kinda funny how for the first day or two of the hunt, when you hear alarms start to go off, everyone jumps up and is excited and antsy for the day. As the week wears on the snooze buttons get used more and more and the atmosphere in the morning is that of a bunch of half asleep guys stumbling around trying to get ready to head out.
The first few days of the hunt found my dad and I hiking back into our spot well before daylight and hiking out after dark. The deer activity was slow but that didn’t dampen our enthusiasm. We had seen a few deer in our area but none that we could get a shot at during our mixture of spot and stalk and stand hunting. About half way through the hunt my father got about a 5 second look at what appeared to be a pretty good buck running at full speed down an old logging road on the other side of the basin. Earlier in the day he had also seen a little basket rack buck at the bottom of the same ravine so we knew that this was the area to focus on and this is where the real excitement began.
Each morning found me up, and usually leaving, before most the others in our cabin had even rolled out of their sleeping bags. On the third to last day I decided to set up in the spot where my dad had seen the two bucks the previous day. First light found me sitting above the clear cut basin with my eyes scanning for any movement. On the far side of the basin, about 300 yards or so, was the edge of the timber service line so the landscape had an abrupt line from clear cut to thick forest. As I sat for the morning, I found myself thinking about how big the buck that my dad had seen really was. We were able to find his tracks and they looked more like elk tracks versus deer tracks so I was excited. In the middle of my day dream a small bit of movement caught my eye and like a ghost coming from the fog, a buck appeared from the deep forest. Before I could even put my binoculars down and raise my gun, he had disappeared back into the timber.
The next morning, our second to last day, found me set up in the middle of the clearing, sitting with my back up against a stump about 75 yards away from where I watched the deer come out the previous day. As I sat there, as I am accustomed to sometimes do, my mind began to wander again. Suddenly, from about 100 yards below me I again caught movement. Out walks the basket rack that I had seen the day before and he was walking towards me. Because of the swirling winds, I made up my mind that as soon as he turned broadside I would take the shot. When he turned, I lined up the crosshairs and my Winchester barked. The buck barely moved and just turned a bit so that he was facing directly at me. By the time I jacked another shell in the chamber my heart was racing and my hands were shaking. I put the crosshairs on his chest and fired off another shot, again nothing. Now I was shaking almost uncontrollably as he still stood there, not really knowing what happened. After my third shot he took off and I lost sight of him. I got up and my knees were shaking and I slowly walked down to where I had shot at him. As I got about 20 yards from where I shot at him, here he comes, running right towards me and back from where he had come out of the trees. One courtesy shot later and he was gone. My dad and I searched for blood for about an hour and even found one of my rounds in a stump behind where he was standing. Only thing we found was a little tuft of hair where I must have grazed his back.
Needless to say I was very disappointed but at least I knew that my shots were clean misses and that he would live to see another day. At camp that night I came to find out that one of my buddies had also missed a buck and that at least made me feel like I wasn’t the only one. I laid in my sleeping bag that night, replaying the whole scenario at least 100 times, trying to figure out what had went wrong. My dad has always told me that things in life happen for a reason and boy was he right.
The next morning, the last day of our hunt, I decided to head back out to the same spot where I had missed the buck the day before. When I stepped out of the front door I was greeted by rain. It was light but needless to say I wasn’t too excited about that. I set up against the same stump out in the middle of the clearing and about 45 minutes after daylight the rain picked up and I was getting soaked. Given the slope of the clearing I looked around and thought about my options. About 50 yards up the hill and over near the edge of the thick forest there was a lone cedar tree with some dead branches laying around it. I decided that it would be the only way for me to stay out there much longer because it really started to rain pretty steady.
I sat under the cedar tree for a while and wasn’t seeing anything when the radio in my pocket went off. It was my dad, who was set up about a quarter mile below me. He told me that he was far too wet for his own good and was going to head back to the cabin. I told him to let me know when he made it back because since this was the last day of the hunt, I was going to tough it out and see what happens. I slid the radio back into my pocket, pulled my hood back over my head and put my gloves back on. Not 10 seconds later I spotted movement to my left. I looked over and there was a buck, walking down through the clearing. I didn’t even bother to see how big he was because I could see he had branched antlers. I reached down and clicked my scope covers off and when they hit the side of my gun the buck froze in his tracks. I raised up my rifle and let him have it! He jumped up in the air and took off. In my excitement, I didn’t pull my bolt all the way back before I slammed it back forward so the case got jammed. My heart sank as I watched him run but it was a great site when I saw him fold. I finally got my wits together, got another shell loaded and made my way towards the buck which ironically fell not more than 15 yards from where I had been sitting earlier. My radio went off again and it was me dad and he said “Well…? Did you get him?” I told him that I had got him and that I was going towards him to take a closer look. He told me that he was on his way up to meet me.
As I got closer to the buck I couldn’t believe my eyes. In the excitement of the moment I didn’t even pay attention to rack size but I was more focused on making the shot so I just assumed that it was the same basket rack that I had missed before. Boy was I wrong!! When I walked up to him I saw his big 5x4 rack sticking up from a bush and I was in shock. It was by far the biggest deer I have ever taken! I got back on the radio and called to my dad telling him that I found the deer and he was big! I don’t think I have ever done that many fist pumps or stood with both hands up in the air, head tilted back and eyes closed for so long. Finally, my dad arrived and I showed him my prize. A few pictures, a lot of high fives and hugs and a long drag out later my hunt was over.
Looking back, I experienced so many things with this hunt. I got to enjoy one of the highest highs of taking a really nice buck but I also experienced one of the lows when you miss a shot. I often think about how my dad was so correct in so many ways. If I would have harvested the basket rack the day prior I never would have even had the chance at the buck I took. I also think about how I probably never would have even seen this buck if I hadn’t moved from in front of the stump over to the cedar tree. He would have come down the clearing pretty much right behind me and the wind was blowing up hill all morning. God works in mysterious ways and I know one thing is for sure, I will never ever forget this hunt and telling the story never gets old. I can’t wait for my next great public land, do it yourself deer hunting adventure!
