Just like the good ol' days

I enjoy old black and white pictures of the "good ol' days" when everyone is lined up with their big mule deer in front of the camp tent. It seems like there were enough bucks in those days that everyone, including the kids, killed good mature bucks. Well, things have changed throughout the west unfortunately and mule deer numbers have suffered a bit. Today, the chances of everyone in camp holding a good buck while standing in front of a tent for a picture aren't as probable as they once were in the 50's and 60's.

I apply for mule deer hunts across most western states. Some people may think that buying non-resident licenses and tags are too expensive or not worth the effort...they don't quite understand the passion obsession of hunting the Rocky Mountain Mule Deer. This year, after several years of accruing preference points (you gain a point every year you are unsuccesfull at drawing a tag), I drew my first Colorado mule deer hunt.

                                      (We saw these two young bucks driving on our way to our campsite)

The area holds a good number of deer and you will see a lot of them when they are concentrated on the limited summer range; however the unit is big and in order to have an outstanding hunt during mid-October, you need a little winter weather to speed up the deer's seasonal migration into the lower country. Of course, this is all information I gathered from other folks through the past few months, I had never stepped foot in this area in my life, which makes for some fun exploring. I crossed my fingers that we would get the perfect storm, but we didn't. The weather was sonora-like with highs in the 70's and clear skies, which meant we had our work cut-out for us to find the bucks somewhere in the vast country between the summer and winter range.

We set up camp on a lower elevation ridge covered in juniper and oak. A cozy wall tent, a wood stove, and good company sure made this Colorado trip much more comfortable than my past week, where I hunted alone in the cold Oregon backcountry in a small one-man tent.

(Colorado cozy)

We were overly-excited for opening morning. When the eastern skies finally turned silver, I was overlooking a big canyon full of oak, wheat grass, and fermented forbs, which seemed to be just the right habitat for some hungry, migrating mule deer. Quickly, I spotted some does along with a big-bodied 3- point buck with a ferocious appetite. He was preparing for the oncoming breeding season by eating everything he could see in front of him. He was an old buck and knew through experience and instinct, that he needed a strong fat reserve in order to survive the next few months, covering great distances in search of females, battling rival bucks, and surviving a cold Colorado winter will certainly take its toll on this buck, but by the looks of his body and antlers, he looked ready for the task.

I enjoyed watching this old buck, but decided he wasn't the buck I was after. I continued glassing other little pockets for deer and found several other nice bucks. The big three-point may have kept me from finding my big buck that morning. His obsessive-eating behavior and body-size intrigued me and I watched this buck for the rest of the morning. Once the sun was up, the crisp October air quickly warmed and the deer were bedded by 8:30 AM and would not move around until 5:00 PM.

(One of several bucks passed up through the days; photo taken through 15x binoculars)

"If we're going to have nice warm weather, we might as well enjoy it!", was a common phrase throughout camp. We headed to camp for lunch and enjoyed the fall weather and good conversation. I decided I liked the area I had watched opening morning and ended up going there everyday. It is not in my nature to sit in one spot. I like to move around, explore what is over the next ridge; however, there were two factors that attracted me to this canyon: First and foremost, I saw different mature bucks everyday. I think it was a stopover during their migration downhill. The other reason I enjoyed the canyon was it was a fairly gentle hike to get to my glassing spot. The week prior, I had worn out my knee in Oregon and by Colorado, I hobbled everywhere I went.

I continued to see some nice bucks. For four days I was able to get a good idea of what sort of bucks were using the area. I never did see a great big buck; I figured they were still a bit higher in elevation and and smart enough to stay put until their sexual drive urges them down to look for females. After four days of hunting, nobody in camp had killed a buck although everyone had passed on several decent ones. I thought it was time to put some meat in camp.

Tuesday was supposed to bring some precipitation and so I was prepared to stay out all day and hope the colder air would keep deer moving a bit. The storm came and instead of snow, it brought rain. I had found my big three-point again, this time he was being followed by a nice 5x4 with a 4-5" squigly inline in-between his back fork. Directly below me I watched a heavy 4x4, with a short back fork on the left side. He was an older buck that I almost killed the day prior. This morning he was feeling a bit aggressive and he entertained me with a great display of dominance over a 26" 3x4. The old buck would lay his ears flat against his swollen neck and circle the younger buck. The 3x4 was a bit confused and didn't want to fight, until the big guy got him agitated. They sparred for several minutes before the 3x4 moved to the next wash over, where there seemed to be less testosterone.

(heavy 4x4 that tempted me on more than one occasion)

Down the mountain a bit, two more mature bucks were hanging around a group of does. One of the bucks had dark, chocalate-colored antlers and huge front forks. his short back forks were the only flaw that kept this beautiful buck from getting killed. The other buck was busy eating and checking does. The oak was thick enough, that I could not see his antlers well. I would see glimpses as he would stretch his neck and curl his lips. This behavior is how a buck tests the air for a doe in estrus. Finally the buck stepped out and I could see his width wasn't to great but his forks were all deep, and massive to boot! I told Tyler, who was by my side, that if the buck has eyeguards, I would harvest that beauty. Moments later, I confirmed nice eyeguards; the hunt was on.

I limped down into the canyon, as the rain fell. I worked my way over a couple small ridges and crawled into position. The does had bedded out of my sight. The only animal I could see was the big front-forked "chocolate" buck. As the rain poured down, I sat and glassed for two and a half hours without any sign of the deep-forked 4x4. I changed my position to see if I could get a different angle but still no sign. I laid in the mud a hundred yards from the other buck and waited....and waited....and waited. Often, a buck will give away another bucks location by occassionly looking it's direction, but old chocolate just looked annoyed by the downpour. As quickly as the rain started, it stopped. The mountainside grew silent and something was about to happen. Chocolate arose from his bed. shook his wet cape, and began feeding.

(My ambush location; buck lays dead above oak grove on hillside)

"Come on old guy, give away your buddy!" I whispered. I think he heard me because he put his head up and pointed his ears uphill towards a grove of oaks. I lifted my binos to see the deep-forked buck at two hundred yards step out from the oaks and begin feeding quartering towards me. Without haste, I leveled the crosshairs on his front shoulder with my trusty 7 rem mag. and the 140 grain accubond worked flawlessly. The buck dropped in it's track.

He is a beautiful Colorado buck.

(Ol' deep forks, my first Colorado muley)

Tyler decided he wanted the 5x4 that was hanging around with the big 3x3, so the next morning the hunt was on again. I decided I would drop down to where I had seen the buck the day before. The storm had passed and brought fierce winds in it's path. By late morning I had spotted the two bucks (the 5x4 and the 3x3) 150 yards below me in a jumble of junipers where they were protected from the wind. I was fairly confident they wouldn't move to far. Tyler had walked down another ridge to glass so I got Tyler's attention and it didn't take long to convince him to get over to where I was quick! He had a staircase of knolls to climb before he could descend to my location.

(The 5x4 alert in the junipers through my binos)

I then heard the distinct boom of a rifle break through the wind somewhere around Tyler's location. Tyler jumped a nice buck while on his way to me and shot the fleeing buck...a beautiful 6x4 roman nose!

(Tyler's ol' whiteface!)

Moments later, Jared (another friend on the hunt) made his way towards me. Jared was there in the same area to help Tyler harvest his buck that morning, but once Tyler had filled his tag, Jared was more than excited to look over the 5x4 that was still below me. One look through the binoculars and Jared got set-up for the shot. The buck stepped out and Jared killed him. The 3x3 that I had gotten to know so well, fled from the junipers and turned to see his comrad's last breath. This was the nearest I got to the 3-point and it was a treat to see him so close. He bounded off leaving crater-sized scuffs in the soil in his wake. Two big bucks down within 15 minutes apart!

(Jared's great 5x4!)

(The road back up the ridge is a bit hairy. We figured we could fit Jared {on the hood}, his deer, Tyler, and myself on the UTV to save serious legwork and we did...until Jared got sucked under the SUV after a large bump.....okay, he didn't but it was bumpy)

The next day Jared, Tyler, and myself didn't want to stop hunting. So Shane said we could go ahead and help him look for a buck, who that morning killed a nice wide 3x4 from 380 yards with his trusty .308. He showed us how muley hunting was done "southern Utah style" and let me tell you, it was a treat to hunt with Shane.

The hunt  was over. It is a bitter sweet feeling to fill a tag when there is still a few days left of the season. I wanted to stay on the mountain but I was afraid I would see a bigger buck. We took pictures of our great bucks lined up in front of the canvas tent, surely a picture that our grandads would all be proud of. 'Till next time Colorado!

Here is a little video that sums up our trip