Mule Deer: A Dream Come True Buck

Mule Deer
A Dream Come True

One never knows what the outcome might be for any hunt you go on. You never know if it will be a great experience, a so-so hunt, or a total nightmare. Either way, they can all be a great learning experience. I’m sure all of you have had a dream in the back of your mind whenever you go on a hunt of what you hope your hunt will be. You dream of the quality of the animal you would like to kill and the things you hope to see and do. However, true reality quickly seems to set in and it seems that very little ever runs as smoothly or seems to fit together quite like a dream does. It has been said that life is ‘but a dream’ and I believe that everyone should have a dream or two. Our dreams are what lift our spirits to their highest spheres and inspires us to move forward to a brighter day.

I have talked to many hunters who have said that they had not put in for a particular hunt because the odds of drawing were so bad that they would “never have drawn the tag” anyway. The reality is that you will never draw unless you put in. What are the odds that these hunters’ dream hunts will happen - 100% never! Whatever your dream is, act upon it, who knows, maybe it will come true.

I started hunting in Sonora, Mexico some fifteen years ago. After reading some of Jack O’Conner’s hunting experiences in Sonora with his 270 and his quest for a monster muley, I was very intrigued with this type of hunting in desert land layouts. Jack talked about tracking big muley bucks in this harsh land and how his Mexican guides could follow a big buck trail all day long in the sand. He said that if a hunter could keep up with the guide that they could actually shoot a buck right in the buck’s bed while he was sleeping. Wow! Talk about a dream come true - sign me up now! If there was ever a hunting spot that fit my style of hunting this was it. It sounded like heaven at its best, right here on earth. Well, I had a dream of hunting there and wished it would come true, and it finally did.

In my life, I have found that not everything you read or hear is true. I never have found one of those Mexican guides that can track all day long no matter the terrain of the land. There are a few big bucks down there all right, but you had better be in the right cholla patch. Every bush and plant in Sonora has a thorn or sticker on it and getting my gun in and out of Sonora is an all-day experience. The food is different, the language is a real barrier, there are soldiers with guns everywhere you go, and a man’s word seems to mean nothing - you have to be real careful. However, the weather is great (75 degrees in January), and you get to hunt during the rut. There is an endless desert and you do run into big buck tracks in the sand. There is always a possibility that you could kill a ‘Mr. Big’. There are big bucks in Sonora; you just gotta be good enough to find them. Another big plus is that there are predators galore without PhD’s - maybe it’s not so bad after all.

I have hunted Sonora six times and killed three good bucks - a 50% average. I could have killed a “buck” every time I went; however, I was always hunting for Mr. Big. Every hunt is a different experience. There are always a few new problems, but the quest for my big dream buck was always in the back of my mind. If an individual stays the course, always doing their very best, putting themselves in spots where there are odds of killing a ‘Mr. Big’, the day will come when that dream will be realized.

On January 2nd, 2008, my good friend Clint Argyle and I got on a plane and headed to Sonora, Mexico. We hoped to kill the buck of our dreams. This was Clint’s first time hunting in Sonora. I told him to always have an open mind on all the comings and goings, because you never know what to expect. We landed in Hermosillo at 4:00 p.m. Right away, we encountered our first problem - our guns didn’t make it! Since we didn’t have our guns, we had to leave our bullets at the airport. After filling out the paperwork, we left with our guides and headed to the place we would be hunting for the next six days. Our guide told us not to worry about our guns because he had some we could use. He told us that we would probably get our own guns within two days. As we arrived at the ranch, supper was ready and our every need was attended to. The guide gave me a 300 Win. Mag. with a Leopold dot. It wasn’t my light, 25-06 with my Redfield 4-plex, but it was a gun - that alone made me happy. Clint got a 300 Ultra Mag., plenty of gun, but he is left-handed. It’s hard to find a gun anywhere for an old lefty. I just gave him a high-five and said, “Clint, remember, you’re in Mexico.” He smiled.

Day one started at daylight. As I climbed up in the high rack of the truck, my mind said, “Yes! It’s good to be back here again hunting big muley bucks.” Within the first mile, a nice 4×4, 26-inches wide crossed the road in front of us. Wow! What a good sign! A very nice buck right out of the gate. I knew that at the end of the first day if I had seen over eight deer that would have been a good day hunting deer in Sonora. After day one had ended, I had seen exactly ten deer - a very good day of hunting, indeed. Clint saw over 25 deer in one day and that’s more deer than I have ever seen in one day hunting in Sonora.

Day two also started at daylight, and we headed back to the same place we were the day before. There were quite a few fresh tracks in quite a few different spots where we hunted. One never knows when old ‘Mr. Big’ might show up, especially when the rut is on. However, day two was hot and dry, and we didn’t see very many deer – two at the best.

Day three, we hunted until noon and saw nothing. We decided to go back to camp. Siesta time in Sonora is from noon until 3:00 p.m. Our Mexican guides told us that the deer sleep, so we might as well sleep too. We decided to head for town and the airport to see if our guns had arrived. At the airport, we found that our guns had arrived, but that they had moved our bullets to another place. They told us that we would have to come back the next day to get the bullets. We went back to where we had been hunting. Despite the problems, I still had a smile on my face. After all, the worst day hunting is still better than the best day at work.

Day four brought us back to the vast Sonora desert where the land is endless and where big bucks live and die every year. I’m sure some of those bucks never see a man. This is the place where a man’s dream of killing a monster muley can come true in a blink of an eye. Half an hour after daylight, we saw some deer running down a fence line. One looked like a very good buck. Just then, a doe jumped the fence 100 yards down the road and right behind her, a big buck followed. I saw him for a split second before he was gone. In my mind, I knew he was a very big buck. My driver was a young man and since I don’t speak Spanish, I had a hard time telling him to hurry up and get down there to ‘Mr. Big’. Ten minutes later we finally made the hundred yards – well it seemed that long. And yep, ‘Mr. Big’ was nowhere to be seen. Two hours later, after poking, walking, and riding around in the area we still had not seen anything. But nothing is a waste if you are looking at all the different options and layouts of the land. Someone had built a twenty-five foot tower right on the fence line where we had seen the big buck. I told my guide to take me back to the tower. I climbed up on top and could see fifty-percent more desert, out to 300 yards, but I still couldn’t see the buck. We hunted the rest of the morning. We got stuck in some sand and finally got out. As I climbed on the truck to get up in the high rack, the driver took off and threw me out of the truck. I only had time to jump clear of the bed and landed hard on my right side. I still wonder how I didn’t end up with a broken bone. Even as I write this article, I can still feel the tenderness in the eight-inch black and blue bruise on my hip.

Day five, I had my guide get up and leave thirty minutes earlier. I wanted to be up in the tower before daylight. It was a colder morning, and the fog was on top of some mountains to our right. As we got to the tower along the fence line, I made sure both my guide and driver were very quiet. As I climbed the narrow steel ladder, my buckskin gloves became very wet with morning dew, but I made the top and settled in. The sun’s light was starting to show some life of another day. There was no wind at all. Off to my right, I heard two coyotes talking things over. My guide glassed one direction and I looked the other. About half-an-hour into dim daylight, two does came within fifty yards of us. They didn’t seem to have anything in particular in mind as they lingered for quite some time right in front of us. I knew there was a ‘Mr. Big’ around there somewhere, so my senses were at 110%. Just then, my guide tapped me on the leg and pointed to my left. As I looked, I could see only part of a deer standing in the thick desert cover. I lifted my ten-power Zeiss slowly to my eyes in the morning light and I gasped as it came into full focus. There he was, ‘Mr. Big’. Shoot - now - buck! As I lifted the 300 Mag, I realized my scope was wet from the morning dew. As quietly as I could, I lowered the gun and wiped the lens clear. I put the gun up to my shoulder once again. As the dot settled on the big buck, he turned slightly and faced me – he was still not aware of our presence. At seventy yards, the gun went off and the buck went down hard. I watched intently as the big buck lay there on the ground. I was ready with round two, just in case, but he never made a move. Climbing down out of the twenty-foot tower seemed to take too long because I was so excited to get a closer look at the buck I had just shot. As I walked up to him lying there in the cholla cactus, I had a smile on my face and I’m sure my blood pressure was up. My guide jumped for joy. There he was, a ‘Mr. Big’ indeed, a perfect 4×4. He had black horns, deep forks, and a perfect side-to-side look. I knew that this buck was one of the best four-points I had ever killed. I was a happy man indeed. After all these years, I had finally killed the buck of my dreams in Sonora.

Back at camp, everyone was happy for me. Since my buck was the only buck killed so far, it raised the hopes of the other three hunters. After putting a tape to him we discovered that he was thirty inches wide, 198 gross and 192 net typical Boone & Crockett. He also has an SCI score of 201 5/8.

At noon, we went back to the airport and got our bullets. At least Clint would have his very own, left-handed gun for his last day. The next morning I went with Clint and his guide. I had them drive to where I had killed my buck, but we didn’t see anything. By 11 a.m., we had seen 20 deer. One was a nice buck, but not quite a shooter. Now at 12:00 noon, the guides like to take a siesta, but we told them that we were going to continue hunting because it was our last day. We walked a mile or so into some backcountry and climbed up on a little hill so we could see the desert floor. Lady luck was with us once again; a ‘Mr. Big’ with two does came out 150 yards right under us. Clint pulled up and made it count. I don’t think I have ever seen any hunter more excited than he was. Anyone within a twenty-mile radius could have heard him yelling for joy. A big 4×4 with a three-inch cheater put him right at 30-inches wide - his best buck ever.

Do dreams come true? They do if you dream them!

Tags: Dennis Wintch, HI35, mule deer

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