Mule Deer: Quest For A Big Buck in 07′

My Year Runnin’ and Gunnin’ For a Big Buck
by Dennis Wintch

I used to think, when I was younger, that the day would come when I got “old” that I would finally have the time and money to retire and then be able to do and see all the things that I’ve always dreamed of doing. However, the older I get, the busier I become. Even now that all of my kids are married, I don’t seem to have even half the time I used to have (twenty years ago) to hunt and fish. Society seems to be on a much faster run today than we were on even a year ago. We all used to burn on just regular, then we moved up to regular plus, then premium – and now we seem to be on rocket fuel to get us where we think we need to be. Boy how times have changed!

As I was running to and from the hunts I had planned for this year, my rocket fuel was running just a little bit low. My body was telling me, “Whoa, slow down and rest.” I got to thinking about how much time and money I was willing to give up and spend just to have those three seconds to see, shoot and hopefully kill another big muley buck. How much money are you willing to spend? How much time do you invest in your hunt(s)? I remember when I was in high school, there was a very popular song called ‘That Magic Moment.’ I have always thought about that song when it came to my hunting and how much of my time and money I give up for those ‘Magic Moments’ that come my way.

Case in point! My first hunt was on the fifteenth of October in big and wonderful Wyoming. I drew a tag in a new area that I had never hunted before, but I knew that there was a good chance of seeing and hopefully killing a Mr. Big if everything came together. So, in September, my wife and I went on a little scouting trip. Three days later and $800.00 dollars spent on gas, motels and food, I made it back home. The trip gave me a little more peace of mind. I had scouted the area and knew where a few good spots were so that when the hunt started, I could start hunting. On the fourteenth of October, I got up at 4:30 a.m., picked up my hunting partner, and drove 500 miles before the sun had set. On opening day, we were right where I wanted to be as the first hint of daylight appeared in the eastern sky. The first two hours we saw three bucks, two of which were little four-points. But, no Mr. Big. The area we were hunting was mostly winter range and, since it was still 70 degrees, not much had moved in from the high country. So, day two we went higher. Wow! It has been quite some time since I have hunted a steep, rugged, hard to get into and even harder to get out of, ‘ball barring basin.’ It made me tired just remembering. But, I did see a few little 18-inch to 20-inch bucks and even a few that had been killed but, no big boys. Day Three (higher again), right at daylight I spotted five bucks feeding out in a big sagebrush flat. But, here again, the biggest one was only a 23 to 24-inch 4×4. As we sat there glassing, two other hunters drove up and told us about the five bucks out in the flat. Yep, we had seen them. “Are you going to shoot?”

“No.”

“We will then.”

“OK, go for it.” We watched as they put on the big sneak. They walked right on top of the ridge in plain sight, never walking on the backside to conceal their movements. I said to Shad, “Bet you 10 to 1 that they don’t kill anything.” Sure enough, at 300 yards, the bucks slowly headed for the trees. Mind you, they were 400 yards out in an open sagebrush flat. As both hunters laid down to shoot, I thought the Fourth of July was about to start. I was wrong, 400-300-200-100-50 and still, not even a shot. At 25 yards the first shot rang out, but was four feet behind. Then shot number two – three feet high and that was all she wrote. Oh well, maybe next time when they have them out in a more open flat. I should have had all this on film. Day Four (high again), a big storm had moved in and it was snowing hard but raining down low. The fog was so bad that we couldn’t see anything, so we decided to hunt low. However, the mud was so bad that we couldn’t go anywhere. Just to go off the oiled road was to get stuck – I’ve been there and done that one, so we went back to our motel and checked out. Maybe next year those three magic seconds will come my way.

The regular deer hunt was on the twentieth of October in Utah, so I had to hurry and get a few things done because I only had one day until the hunt began. Work, work, go, go, run, run… At midnight, I finally got to where I needed to be for opening day. Since I was all by myself, I slept in the back of my truck. At daylight I was off, but found nothing. Not even one fresh track. Since most of the hunts in Utah are only five days this year (which I think is a great idea), I knew I had a lot of turf to cover and cover it I did. Now, I haven’t personally killed a deer in Utah in over ten years (not that I haven’t had the chance to kill a deer, it’s just that nothing, to me, has been big enough to shoot), and I was hoping to change that. I hunted hard from daylight to dark for the entire five days of hunting and came home empty-handed. However, I did see where a big buck had been earlier, so there is hope for next year’s hunt.

Back home again… work, work, work, run, run, run… catch up here and there… put out a few fires and head for New Mexico. I got to my camp at midnight where two of my friends had been hunting for three days. They told me that they hadn’t seen much. It was 75-degrees and very hot and dry. Most of the deer were in the middle or transition zone, which is a ‘no man’s zone.’ It’s in what I call the ‘no see-em zone.’ This zone is always rough and hard to get into and usually has very thick trees and brush. It’s always a tough place to have any success but, we were here to hunt and our time was ticking, so we decided to hunt it anyway. The three of us hunted all day long, walking in and out of some great buck holes, but saw very little – not even fresh sign. We headed back to camp where my hunting buddies decided to head back home. They loaded up and left me alone to hunt by myself. Day Two, I hunted a new place that I have always wanted to check out. I saw three bucks, but they just weren’t big enough. An hour before dark, I came out onto a big rim where I could see a whole lot of what I call ‘deer country.’ I settled down and started glassing the area. Thirty minutes before dark, I finally spotted a Mr. Big. He was 1000 yards away and I knew that there wasn’t any way to get a good shot off before it got dark. I decided to wait until morning and try to find him again. At daylight, I was back. I saw five little bucks, but I couldn’t find Mr. Big.

Day Four I was hunting hard again. After walking miles and miles, I finally saw three little bucks, but nothing big. I headed back to my truck because I was just about out of rocket fuel. A little food, water and a candy bar, and I was refueled. I drove to where I was hoping to catch Mr. Big, but I couldn’t find him. I decided to head into another new area. After about a mile, I ran onto two big buck tracks. After a closer look, I could tell that the tracks were made by big boys and that they were fresh. New life ran back into my tired body and I was excited and alert again. Once again, I was back hunting big bucks at 110%. I could feel the electricity – my eyes, ears and every step I took set me on full alert. I slowly and quietly looked over ever nook and cranny before moving on. I paused only briefly to see which way they were moving. I kept focused on looking and following the big tracks in the sand…right there is where they laid down not long ago, and there is a tree that one of them tried to take revenge on. I couldn’t tell by their tracks whether one buck was bigger than the other. Both sets of tracks were pretty much the same size. I came upon a spring of water with one Russian olive tree growing by it. Who would have ever thought that there would be water here? Not me, but it was a very good thing to know. I wonder how that Russian olive tree got there? It must have been a horse that wasn’t eating certified hay! The tracks told me that the big bucks made a 180-degree turn and headed toward a deep wash that ran along a big rock rim. The rim ran for about two miles which was very good because there were a lot of ups and downs and rollers that would give a hunter a chance to see, shoot and kill a big buck. Now, I know that a big buck doesn’t get big by being stupid; all the stupid ones are dead, so I know that where I walk is vital. If I jumped these bucks, I must have them to my left (on the side where the deep wash is). If I could get one buck to run down and up the other side, I could kill him as he climbed out. I knew that I must always walk so that I was not too far from the rim because I needed to be able to make it to the rim of the wash quickly so that I could catch the buck climbing out before he made it over the top of the other side. If I walked too far away and jumped him and pushed him over the top, he would beat me down, up, and over the other side before I could get to the rim to make the shot.

Remember my five to thirty rule. I only had one hour of daylight left and I was a long way from my truck. Because I was alone, I had to calculate sunlight and distance to my truck a whole lot differently. I knew I had to jump and kill one of those big boys soon! As I followed their tracks I was on auto-pilot. I had to cover ground more quickly, but still not five-up my advantage. Fifty yards around a little roller and I lost their tracks. I knew that they had to be back to my far left where a sharp turn put me on a straight line to the deep wash. I was fifty yards from the rim when, like a ghost, I got a quick glimpse at one of the big bucks. He was a big buck, so I made a run to the rim of the deep wash. The buck was in full bounce, doing his very best to make it up and over the top. I could see that his horns were good and that he was a big, mature buck. However, he was not what I would call a monster buck…but, after all my time and money…my three seconds had finally come and I decided to shoot. Two shots and two good hits and the buck was mine. At that moment, I heard another deer off to my left trying to climb up the bank. He stopped for just a second and then he was up and over the top. He was another good buck, a narrow but quite heavy 4×4. But, after climbing up to my big buck, I knew I had killed the best one of the two.

There was only half an hour of daylight left, so I quickly cleaned him out, cut off the two hind hams, and threw them up onto my shoulders and headed for my truck. I knew that daylight was now a real issue. I planned to bring my back frame and meat saw so I could put the rest of the meat in meat sacks and pack it back out the next day. I was around two miles from my truck and the only road, so I knew it would be very dark before I could make it back to the road. Because I was alone, I knew I had to be very careful not to fall and hurt myself. I walked slow but steady; only stopping a few minutes to catch my breath and push myself up to the task that I had to accomplish. I was wringing wet with sweat and I had to hold the flashlight in my mouth so I could see because my hands were full just trying to pack the meat. My mouth was so dry that I could hardly spit. I finally made it back to the road. It was so dark that I couldn’t make out any landmarks. I walked up the mountain road hoping to find my truck, but couldn’t find it. I though that perhaps it was down the road, so I walked back down but still couldn’t find it. I didn’t have the energy to walk buck up the road, so I decided to walk off a big rim and then up towards my camp. I knew where my camp was, but I just couldn’t find my truck. One bottle of water and two Gatorades later, I changed into dry clothes and fell into bed. My feet hurt so bad that I had a hard time going to sleep, but exhaustion finally took over and I drifted off. At daylight, I started walking back up the road to find my truck. It was easy in the light. I walked back to my big buck, finished skinning him out, and put all the meat, head, and horns on my frame and once again headed up and out to my truck. At 12:00-noon, I made it back to my truck and drove back to camp. I had to cut the meat up and put it on ice because it was still 75-degrees during the day. I broke camp, cleaned everything up spic and span, and headed home.

As I was driving home, I began thinking again about all the things I do to be a hunter. I thought about all that it takes to kill a big buck and hopefully get those ‘magic moments’ once in a while. After all, that is what all of us hunters hunt for isn’t it? Nah, it’s still the hunt, it’s still being out in Mother Nature, sitting on a rock in the middle of nowhere and looking out over all the wonders of this beautiful world that God has created for each of us. It’s still the friendships we have and the renewing of them. It’s still the challenge that is put before us to see what we are made of. It’s still the teaching of patience, persistence, and knowledge and all those important lessons that we learn as we experience life. It’s finding out that sometimes we need this time alone just to be able to re-think the things that really matter in our lives. It’s being thankful that we can still walk, run, and climb to the top. It’s making memories with our friends and family that last a lifetime and a hundred other things that those that never hunt will never know or feel. Would I still hunt if I knew I would never have another ‘Magic three seconds’? Would you? I would in a heartbeat – when do we leave on the next one?