As I mentioned earlier my heart just isn't into to deer hunting like it used to be. However that doesn't mean I like having an unfilled tag in my wallet either. Last year was the first year in 30 years I didn't fill my tag and that didn't set well with me. This year my enthusiasm was also low due to the fact I really didn't have anywhere great lined up to go, and the deer numbers are way down in Montana due to disease and hard winters. So just finding deer is a major problem this year. I went out last weekend and passed up 16 young mule deer bucks. It was nice to see that many bucks, but spikes, forkhorns, and really small 3x3's don't light my fire at all. Anyway last night after work I knew I had about two hours of daylight that I could go hunt. I called a land owner and they gave me permission to hunt on their place.They also mentioned they hadn't seen any deer. So I wasn't overly confident as I left my truck to hike up the mountain. In fact I had zero expectations to see much of anything. This was weighing on my mind along with the fact I have very little time to deer hunt this year. To make a long story short, as I neared the top of the ridge and rounded a corner I was surprised to see a small herd of deer. Even more surprising was the fact there was a buck chasing around the does and he wasn't a forkhorn. I ranged him at 260 yards. I then laid down, got him in my scope, and gave him a hard going over. I knew he was far from the biggest buck I've ever shot. The thoughts about limited time, and a bird in hand, came to mind and I decided to take him. I settled in for the shot, squeezed the trigger and heard that very satisfying WHUMP of a solid hit. He took a few step and tumbled down the steep slope. (Thanks again for the ammo Bucky.) By the time I reached him it was getting dark. I took photos as quickly as I could and then reached for my headlamp in my pack. The friggen thing was dead! So then I had the fun task of quartering this buck out in the dark (the no gutting method) and then transcended my own carcass off the mountain in the dark. Made no less stressful by the fact that one misstep on that super steep rocky slope and I would wind up in the obituaries. I made it back to the pick up long after dark, ran home and recruited my two youngest boys to come help me pack the buck out. We got all our head lamps working, returned to the buck, loaded everything up and were home by 9pm.
Here are my two Sherpa's.
My son took this photo of me (the old fat man) on our way out.
Me with the buck shortly after taking him. So there you have it. My buck is down and I can get back to more important things like fishing, coyote hunting, and possibly helping one or both of my daughter get a buck or two.
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Originally Posted by Big Skyz
