Mule Deer: In Memory of a Great Friend

Mule Deer: In Memory of a great friend
Dedicated to Tom Sainsbury.
By Dennis Wintch

Just yesterday as I ate dinner with a good friend, he told me how he doesn’t like to hunt anymore. He told me how he and a friend of his, some years ago, went deer hunting two different times, and how they walked and walked and had never seen one deer. He said, “After all that walking, time and money, and not even seeing one deer, he just couldn’t see what we all liked about hunting.”

As we talked, I asked him what were some of the things he loved to do. He replied, “Oh one of my favorite and most enjoyable things to do is snow ski. I go as often as I can. To me skiing is awesome!”

I can’t remember my first flipper, or where I went on my first hunt with it, but I can remember making hundreds of them in my lifetime. I hunted every rock an nuk and cranny in the little town I grew up in. In fact, just last week at sixty, I made a flipper for one of my best friends. We both went out back of my home and shot a few cans together. Through the years I remember hitting my finger with a rock and losing the nail, having the bands break at full draw – slapping me a good one in the face. I also remember hunting all day long with no success.

Even at a very young age, I can’t remember thinking that shooting my flipper and hunting just was not fun at all. Indeed, hunting was a big, big part of who I was, even way back when. Be it hunting with a slingshot, BB gun and single shot 22, hunting is still a big part of my life.

Even though I can’t remember my very first hunt, I can remember my very first deer that I killed as if it were only yesterday. He was a little 3×3 point buck, running straight down a hill right in front of me. One shot – right back of the head – and he was mine. I could still walk to, within a few feet of, the very spot where I killed him.

I’m sure we can all think back in our lives and remember a whole lot of “firsts” that have been some of the greatest moments in our life. But have any of you ever thought that this might be the last hunt you will ever go on, or this might be the last deer you will ever kill in your life not knowing that in a just a few weeks you could die?

This article is about one of my best friends who I had the pleasure of spending many a day hunting and fishing with. He was and is like a brother to me. He, like me, loved to hunt and fish with all his soul. He was killed at the young age of forty-four in a plane crash on December 11, 2007. I talked and sang at his funeral a few days after the shocking day. I often think back on all the good times we had together. In many ways I got to experience the very best of him and who he was. This story that he wrote will be his last one, and the 32-inch muley that you see here, which he killed with his muzzleloader, will be his last one ever. And so it is that the life of one of our best in the great outdoors has come to a close – the life of Mr. Tom Sainsbury.

Most of us can still remember the “firsts” in our lives, but what about the last ones? Will we be able to say, “I was ready and did all the things I wanted to do?” If there is a dream hunt you have always wanted to do or go on, but have always put it off until tomorrow or next year, maybe you had better rethink a few things because you may have already been on your last hunt and killed your last deer.

I wonder if my good friend who skis has ever fallen down and had a bad day on the slopes.

Muzzleloader Hunt on the Paunsagaunt
by Tom Sainsbury

In the summer of 2007, I was fortunate enough to acquire a muzzleloader tag for the Paunsagaunt unit in southern Utah. Two years prior, I had a rifle tag there and connected on one of the largest typicals taken anywhere that year. The buck scored 209 gross and 205 net B&C. I was excited to be back and have the opportunity to hunt with Dennis Wintch. Dennis is the mule deer editor for Hunting Illustrated and also my sister’s father in-law. Dennis knows the Paunsagaunt like nobody else. He was born and raised in the unit and he has sixty years of knowledge of the big bucks that roam there. Dennis had volunteered to go with me on my hunt and show me some of the areas that he knew would produce big deer.
As Dennis and I scouted these different areas, I was amazed to hear Dennis talk about the deer hunting in the 1960’s and 70’s in that area. Everywhere we went he had a story about a big deer or a hunt that he, his father and grandfather had made back in the glory days.

Dennis and I started up high, not on top, but on the first plateaus that the deer summer on. These plateaus didn’t produce much sign and even less deer. The weather was warm though and would climb into the 70’s before the day was over. By mid-morning, we had dropped off into some of the lower country. We scoured the road edges for tracks and checked the water holes for sign. We found little and so we kept searching. We worked our way down into the next level. Here we started finding lots of tracks, but still no deer. We were hunting some pretty famous areas and had seen a few other hunters. But, for the most part, we had the country to ourselves. Dennis was sure from the tracks that the deer were still on the move.

Dennis and I then decided to work our way down into the bottom of a canyon to a little known water hole. Tracks were everywhere. The deer were definitely hitting the water hard. We were starting to see deer now; a few here and there, but no sign of rut activity and no big deer anywhere. Eventually Dennis said that we ought to try another canyon that in a round and about way led to the water hole. We had barely got started down the trail off the plateau when I spotted a big deer in the very bottom of the wash. I had only had a glimpse, but I could remember plenty of width and cheaters sticking off both sides. It took us a bit to work over to the draw. With all the cover, I was afraid that the buck was going to slip out on us. As I peeked over the edge, I was filled with disappointment. The big buck was gone. I had only had a second to see this deer and now I couldn’t find him. Dennis stayed back and I began easing along the edge and sneaking a look over at each bend. All of a sudden, I heard some scrambling and looked down the canyon. The buck was running out about 70 yards down the draw. There wasn’t much time for decisions at that point, so I swung my muzzleloader up and took the shot. With the smoke, I didn’t know if I had hit him or not. I yelled at Dennis and asked if he could tell if I hit him or not. He said I did. Just then, I saw the buck headed down the side of the draw. He appeared to stagger and then disappeared. I reloaded and, ten minutes later, found him piled up in the bottom of the draw.

This was my first deer with a muzzleloader. I couldn’t be happier with him. He is a basic 3×3 but has eight points on one side and seven on the other. He is 32-inches wide and grosses in the low 190’s. I would like to thank Dennis for taking the time to go with me and show me the country. This is twice now that he has gone with me and both times I have taken super bucks.