My wife grew up in a hunting family but did not take up hunting until after our boys were starting to kill bucks. One day around 8 years ago she decided it was time to hunt. Having killed 6 Blacktails over that time, she really wanted a muley. Now I should stop right here with a spoiler alert. My wife is not a trophy hunter and we are not a trophy family, so no story about a masher here. She has no problem killing the first branched buck she see's. She got her chance a few weeks ago. Here is her story. I hope you get a good laugh out of it.
Nichole had set her sights on killing a good buck on this trip. But after two days without seeing a single buck, her "good buck" was quickly turning into "any buck." This was going to make our jobs quite a bit easier, so I thought...
Day 3 found us loading gear onto the four-wheelers just after daylight. The temps had dropped significantly from the previous days. 25⁰ is not unbearable by any means, unless of course you are dressed for 47⁰. Nichole and I took the lead. I was in command of the ATV, dressed appropriately, I might add. Nichole, on the other hand, was not. And neither was Logan. Nichole was doing a pretty good job of tucking in behind me, using my heavy, warm wool coat as a shield. I was a little concerned that it would be difficult for her to spot a deer from that position. Logan, underdressed and shivering, trailed behind a little too close for my liking. The only thing saving Logan from frostbite was his giant, oversized, poofy gloves. With my rifle stowed safely in its scabbard, and my pack, with all of my necessary belongings, bungeed to the front rack, I really hoped we would not see a buck as we rode to our spot. Nichole was in no position for a quick shot either. She may have been cradling her rifle across her lap but getting to her cartridges, stuffed deep into the pockets of her camo snow pants, was not going to be an easy task, especially with her oversized poofy gloves. Again I prayed we would not see a buck. Maybe Logan would be the guy ready to jump off the bike and take a shot if it were to present itself. I took a quick glance over my shoulder. Nope. If the frozen trails of snot were any indication of his physical status, we were all screwed if a buck stepped out.
Not 5 minutes down the trail, Nichole, feeling guilty I'm sure, reluctantly pulled her face out of the back of my warm coat to take a quick peek up on the hillside. "Wait, backup. Is that a deer?" She said with minimal confidence. I looked up and sure enough, a deer was standing there watching us with a very curious eye. I hit the brakes and braced for impact as I knew Logan was right on my hinder. Near miss. I fumbled to find reverse, which was pointless anyway as Logan, in a panic, stalled his quad blocking me from backing up and seeing the rest of the deer. I jumped off, ran back and started glassing. "There's a buck! He's the second deer from the left," I said. Nichole is now frantically trying to fish her rounds out of her snow pants and load her rifle. At the same time I am scanning for anything to use as a rest. I glanced back up the hill and the buck stopped walking and is now just staring down at the *censored* show that was mounting. I looked over to see if Nichole had found a rest yet. Nope. She is a zoo. First she tried laying down but couldn't see over the sage. Then she tried resting over the seat of the bike. Up down, up down, up down.... At one point she said she was going to rest her elbows on her knees. I really needed a range, sure glad I strapped my pack down with 4 bungee cords, hate to see it fall off at 3 mph. By the time I finally freed my pack and found my range finder, the buck had moved beyond 230 yards. "Where in the hell is Logan?" I remember mumbling. I turned around, "Logan! What are you doing? Help mom get a rest," I barked. He just sat there, frozen to his seat like Lloyd Christmas crossing the Rockies on a scooter. "Lloyd!!" I hollored, throwing my hands up in disgust. Thankfully he snapped out of it and sprang into action.
Logan and I made the decision to have her shoot the buck with his rifle since it has a bipod. We got it set it up and ranged the buck at 340 yards. Nichole took a break from her burpees, ran over and laid down behind the rifle. One perfectly placed shot and it was over. The only thing left to do was to put the lions, tigers, and elephants back in their cage, tear down the tent, and send the clowns home.
As we walked up to her buck I couldn't help but wonder if somewhere on a ridge behind us, a lucky hunter had taken in the show and as I write this, he is doing the same.... "I was sitting in my spot when these two quads came screeching to a halt. I was laughing so hard that I didn't even notice the nice buck that walked right past me..."
