Good Memory Bucks

[Twispriver]

The winter range in the Methow is forever changed and we'll never see the migrations or the deer numbers the way they once were. What used to be large private holdings are now small parcels each with their own homes, fences and free range dogs. Throw in predators and its no wonder you see more deer in town than in their historical haunts.

[bigmacc]

The winter range in the Methow is forever changed and we'll never see the migrations or the deer numbers the way they once were. What used to be large private holdings are now small parcels each with their own homes, fences and free range dogs. Throw in predators and its no wonder you see more deer in town than in their historical haunts.

This is a valid statement and I will add that when we no longer had a "Game Department", this was a huge factor also. Ive said it many times that the downfall of this particular herd (IMO) has been multi pronged. Predators and how they have been mis-managed, lack of management of the herd as a priority(when we had a Game Department it was) and like you basically said, encroachment. The Methow herd like I've said numbered and fluctuated anywhere between 30,000-40,000 head in its hay-days, they say now its in the 14,000-17,000 range, others who know this herd, have a history with it, including myself may tell you those numbers may be a tad high.Some say a more realistic number is in the 12,000 range(give or take). I myself tend to agree with the later. Ether estimates are a drastic decline of this once historic/famous herd. It truly is a shame to have witnessed those hay days first hand and see it where its at today, the memories of seeing 100,200,300 or more on any given day or seeing herds of that many or more migrating through a saddle or down a draw, all in one bunch during hunting season, are just that, memories.

[Twispriver]

The loss of all the bitterbrush in the fires over the last ten years has really changed where I see deer in the winter up the Twisp River drainage and along the old Twisp Carlton road. I think that was an important food source for them and it seems to be really slow to grow back.

[OutHouse]

The loss of all the bitterbrush in the fires over the last ten years has really changed where I see deer in the winter up the Twisp River drainage and along the old Twisp Carlton road. I think that was an important food source for them and it seems to be really slow to grow back.

I think this is spot on as well as many other accounts here. I remember reading something about how crucial the bitter brush is and the fires to include the Carlton Complex ruined a lot of that.

[bigmacc]

The loss of all the bitterbrush in the fires over the last ten years has really changed where I see deer in the winter up the Twisp River drainage and along the old Twisp Carlton road. I think that was an important food source for them and it seems to be really slow to grow back.

I think this is spot on as well as many other accounts here. I remember reading something about how crucial the bitter brush is and the fires to include the Carlton Complex ruined a lot of that.

It definitely is a big issue that comes back to kind of what I said earlier, we don’t have a “Game Department” anymore so the herd is not priority number 1. My dad used to tell stories and I remember it also that after fires in areas the Game Department would hand out bags of bitter brush seeds to folks who purchased a deer tag, heck I remember Game fellas we knew coming up to camp and handing out packs of seeds to everybody, my dad remembers areas that he and other relatives seeded, he would point to a hillside full of feed and say, “Little Bellingham Camp did that”  , like I say, back when we had a Game Department.

[bigmacc]

I talked with a buddy the other day, he still hunts with us but is a bit younger. He hunted a lot with my dad back in the day and has a bunch of stories about my dad and him, this is one he still gets a kick out of. This is another story I've probably told in bits and pieces in other threads.

It was back in the early 90,s we think. Dad and Steve(we'll call him) went up into an area that they could get to by road and then would have to bail out and go the rest of the way in by foot. My dad had hunted this particular area when he was a boy, decades prior but hadn't put much time into it since, its an "area" that another "famous" buck was killed a few years later . Another story . Dad and Steve got to the spot dad was going to drop him at, dad was going to go a few miles farther and dump out there, both had about a 4 mile hike to the spot they would meet at, then take a short cut out to the road. Dad was in the 72 Ford Bronco that was missing the passenger seat(that many know about) . My dad wore his usual hunting attire, starting at the bottom. 2 pairs of wool socks, a pair of Herman Waterproof Survivors(weighed a ton), Longjohns, a pair of Carharrt rigging pants, a pair or "Ironworker" suspenders to hold them up and on top was 2 hickory shirts with a Black Bear Wool shirt thrown over the top for his coat. Topped off with a 50 year old Balaclava wool hat, stunning.

Dad drove up the road not very far when going around the corner of the old skid road seen a buck coming off the bank and crossing the road. The buck stopped dang near in the middle of the road maybe a couple dozen yards away . Dad said "we were in a stare down at that point", my rifle is in the backseat, by rounds are in my front pocket, lets see who blinks first. Dad said that he slowly got out of the Bronco, stepped back and opened the back window, pulled out the Weatherby and slowly reached into his pocket to grab a round. My dad said their eyes were locked, to the day my dad passed when ever he told this story he said it was "really weird" that the buck never took off. It was a huge buck, those that know/knew my dad know he didn't exaggerate. He killed some big deer, Game guys would always come to our camp to see what we had hanging, they would bring BIO,s to pick our brains, they took him on rides to learn migration routes, I could go on and on. Dad and the buck stared at each other, dad said, "one of the biggest bucks he had ever seen". He had the Weatherby,s bolt open, going for his shirt pocket to grab a couple rounds, the buck still staring him down. Dad fiddle farted around trying to get his fingers on those bullets, he could feel them as he was in the stare down. He said (his words) "the dang thing stood there, like what the hell" The buck then dropped over the other side, walked into a thicket yards down the hill like nothing was wrong as my dad finally found his bullets. They were in shirt number one, the first hickory shirt he put on that day, then number two went on then the Black Bear, he could feel them as he and the buck stared at each other. Him and Steve hunted that area for the remainder of the season, my dad would never have committed to that (hunting it the rest of the season) if that buck would not have been "a dandy". 

[hunthard]

Great story Bigmac
 I always wanted to ask what kind of meals did you mom and dad, grandparents make with all the deer meat?

[bigmacc]

Great story Bigmac
 I always wanted to ask what kind of meals did you mom and dad, grandparents make with all the deer meat?

Lots of ground meat recipes, spaghetti, killer meatloaf made out of breakfast sausage and ground meat mixed, chili etc. Then my grandparents would make some great roasts, simmered with onions, carrots and spuds. We would also make ground meat shaped like hot dogs, cook batches of them in the oven all seasoned up and put them on big hot dog buns or hogie rolls . Thats just a few of my favorites. 

[johnbmyersii]

Love these stories bicmacc thanks for sharing. Reminds me of the stories my grandpa and his friends tell me about the good ol days

[hunthard]

WOW, I love meatloaf, wife thinks i'm crazy lol, i have a buddy in the midwest and they make hotdogs for the kids in 40lb batches.

[bigmacc]

Picture says "1946, Uncle Bud with another monster".

I remember my dad telling stories of Uncle Bud, he was my great grandpas brother, I was around camp as a boy when he was still there. I remember him looking just like my great grandpa only much taller , those that know my family know what I'm saying,  Bud was probably 6.6 or more. He was long and lanky, very soft spoken just like grandpa.

A few of the things I remember about Bud was he always had the coolest rigs in camp, he had neat old jeeps, cab overs and all kinds of stuff he'd bring down from Alaska, had the neatest camp stuff(back then) and he didn't shoot many deer but when he did bring one to camp it was something to talk about!

My dad said Uncle Bud ran a bunch of my great grandparents stuff up in Alaska when they weren't there (home was Bellingham but much of their work and business was in Alaska) and through him many of the characters who ended up in "Little Bellingham" found their way. Folks from Fish and Game guys, to authors(another story), politicians and to government hunters and then it led to their families and clans and the rest is history. Little Bellingham came to be from the beginnings back in 1917 to its hay days of the 30,s - the 80,s. I wish I could mention real names but I won't.

1946. Apparently Bud had went out to his usual spot, it was a place he and Paul, (Paul number 1 if your following ) the slav fisherman kind of shared, it was of mutual respect that when Paul was done at this spot Bud was next up . Paul and grandma had killed a couple big fellas out there a few days prior, both real dandys. Dad said Bud was making a plan to go to the spot in two days but he wanted to let it rest, back then when migrations were in swing they were a day "on" then a day "off", sometimes depending on weather and wind it would be a day on then 2-3 days off or it could be non stop for 2,3 or even 5 days or more, I've sat in routes back in the 60,s where the migration was in full tilt for a week or more, every day. It all depended on many different variables and still does, at least whats left of "the migration". Uncle Bud made it to the spot, dad said the migration was still in motion, about 10 or so big bucks had come into camp over the last day or so. Dad said the day went by and no Bud. It was dark and as they were getting together a group to head out to help, a person appeared in the firelight, it was Bud, dad said, walking to the fire, rifle on his shoulder, quiet as usual. My great Grandma actually asked (according to dad) "wheres the buck Bud? Its out there, "dead as usual". A bunch went out to bring in the monster. "1946, Uncle Bud with another monster" is what the back of the picture reads.  Its a nice spike by 2 , "per usual", like my dad always said.

[bigmacc]

This is a story and memory of not only a buck but of a friend of mine who passed a few weeks ago, some on here know who he is, some on here know how special he was and some on here know, they just don’t make guys like this anymore.

I will call him Willy, not his real name of course.

Willy would stroll into camp starting back in the 70,s ( I think) and sometimes would be driving an old truck, sometimes on horse back but he always made sure to show up. Willy spent a Christmas or two at my wife and I,s house, we had many special times at their place, great dinners and great conversation. None more special than him and his wife’s trips to our camp. He had stories of huge bucks in the Pasayten, to “ mule deer graveyards” to bobcats under the house and , yep, a cougar under the house, with multiple pieces of collars and bones. Stories of yelling for his wife to “GRAB THE 30-30, WE GOT ANOTHER BOBCAT UNDER THE HOUSE! To, “you should have seen this non typical, I know he died within days of me see’n him, he was that old”, to “ hell, I could have shot the damn thing but I had no idea how I would have gotten him out”. To “ I know darn well that buck was an alien deer, he didn’t look right, it was almost like he was flot’n”, to “ well, I was looking di-rect-ly at him and tha damn thing layed down right in front of me, hell I couldn’t shoot him at that point”, (me asking) Hey Willy, how big was it? “ “about 3foot across, I’ve seen bigger”.

Oh boy I could go on and on, the tarantula we made out of a pine cone and dropped from a tree at night around the fire, using fishing line and set the thing right on the armrest of his camp chair, dang near killed him! The time he told us about taking some pretty famous people into the old migration routes to get some pictures and a magazine article, only to have a pizzed off stinky buck charge the photographer and ended up hitting the truck, priceless.

We always asked him if some of the bucks he seen and killed were special, he said yes, many were but they always weren’t the biggest or the most elusive. Willy had killed many big bucks, seen many big bucks during all his trips to the high country but the one that stuck out the most for him was a buck he killed with a particular relative, it wasn’t the biggest or baddest, but was the one he said he will never forget. I could go on but I won’t. He had tears in his eyes when he told me the story of this buck and that’s all you need to know about this “ good memory buck”.

[JakeLand]

Bigmacc you should really consider writing a book or memoir WITH pics ! It would be a top seller for sure

[teanawayslayer]

Bigmacc you should really consider writing a book or memoir WITH pics ! It would be a top seller for sure

I’d buy one!

[sagerat]

Bigmacc you should really consider writing a book or memoir WITH pics ! It would be a top seller for sure

I’d buy one!

   Same here!