A mountain blacktail

I've learned there are different types of blacktail deer. Those unfamiliar with the species let me explain a little  blacktail101 from what I've gathered.  Blacktails inhabit 3 different types of habitats in western Oregon; mountains, foothills, and valleys. Easy enough?

Mountain blacktails inhabit the higher elevations in the Cascades where they migrate downhill to escape piling winter snow. These blacktails are not considered true blacktails (according to Boone and Crockett) because of the potential of mingling with mule deer. Mountain blacktails inhabit natural burns and meadows and are known for large bodies and awesome racks. Foothill blacktails inhabit mountainous terrain as well but at lower elevations where they prefer clear-cuts and brushy areas. They are probably the most heavily hunted of all blacktails becuase of the expansive amount of foothill area in western Oregon. Foothill bucks are wary and also known for large racks, but maybe not as big as mountain bucks.

Valley bucks live in the farm lands down low. They are plentiful in the valleys taking advantage of mild weather, good groceries, and more protection from four-legged predators because of their proximity to human development. Although they tend to sport smaller racks and bodies than their upper-elevation cousins, they are just as crafty living their lives in small woodland patches primarily on private lands.

I enjoy hunting them all, they all taste good; however, I really enjoy hunting the mountain blacktail the most. The tops of the majestic Cascade range is the perfect backdrop for blacktail hunting and I often dream about one day coming across one of those gigantic whitefaced bucks that call the highcountry home.

This year I wanted Hunter to experience mountain blacktail hunting. The experience would be different than the foothill blacktail hunting he has done in the past because mountain blacktails require much more hiking and glassing large steep canyons in backcountry style...with a packframe and a headlamp.

Hunter was excited, he as well wanted more than just a quick morning trip hunting foothill bucks by the house only to come home in the afternoon and do chores; he wanted a full-on camping trip...that didn't include house chores.

The weather has been sunny and warm, and word on the street was the blacktail hunting had been pretty slow. We needed rain, but we figured we'd have a better chance killing a buck in the mountains than sittin' at home, so off we went into the Cascades. A few years back while shed-antler hunting, I stumbled upon a canyon with good deer sign and I've wanted to go back since. Well, now was our chance. It was late afternoon by the time our pickup zigzagged up the mountian road. Hunter slept soundly while my mind raced wondering how he'd do hiking down into a deep canyon with a pack only to turn around and hike out....and then do it again the next morning. I parked the truck and we readied the trusty .257 WBY and our packs loaded with essentials and off we went.

The hike was fairly mellow and after a 3/4 mile the trail quickly began dropping elevation. The country was  bigger than I remembered and I knew we would run out of light well before we ran out of areas to glass. We sat down, got comfortable and began glassing, and glassing. The afternoon passed quickly and the sun dropped behind the mountain. There was only 20 minutes of light left and although there was plentiful elk and deer sign, we hadn't even seen a doe! Still, we were having a great time.

I told Hunter we should look into one last piece of the canyon before dark, so we stood up and turned around. Out of habit, I pulled my binoculars up and glassed behind me where we had scanned prior and behold, a deer in my field of vision! "It's a buck!" I yelled quietly to Hunter "I think...?" The angle of it's head made it hard to tell if what I could see were antlers or the linings of the deer's ears. The deer moved it's head and I confirmed a forked antler. The range finder told me it was 275 yards away. Yikes, quite the poke for a 12 yr old.

Hunter wasn't in any mood to get closer. The buck knew we were there and acted like he was seconds from "gettin' out of Dodge". I helped Hunter set up the shooting sticks and prepare for the shot. "Make sure you jack another round after you mis...after you shoot the first round, Okay?" Hunter steadied the rifle and said he was going to shoot. I hoped he'd get into a more comfortable position so his body could relax for the shot. Instead, his body was twisted, like a pretzel, around a stump while half leaning off of a large boulder. I've seen this boy sleep in similar or worse positions and figured if he could get a good-night's sleep like that, maybe there is a chance he can actually hit this buck. 

My binoculars were glued to my head at the report of the rifle. The buck reared-up balancing on his hind legs and then suddenly tipping onto his back. A perfect front shoulder shot. Hugs, smiles, high fives, and a little disbelief (on my part) followed. We raced over and Hunter found his buck twisted like a pretzel leaning against a small madrone and then the evening light faded into darkness.

After Hunter gutted his buck I explained to him that was good practice but we didn't need to gut it because we were now going to process the deer the gutless method, which means we were now going to take off each leg, loins, and neck meat and stuff them into meat sacks and leave the carcass (hide, guts) for the birds. As the night air cooled, and the sounds of the night amplified, Hunter moved closer and closer to me as I made quick work of the deer. "So, are there lots of lions up here?" "Dad, would a lion think I'm a deer since I smell like one?" "What about a bear?" "It's really dark".

After putting the last loin in the meat sack I told Hunter to turn off his headlamp and stop worrying. We laid our heads on a old burnt log back and for the first time that night stared at the vista above. The stars were  like a million flashlights all shining directly on us, two hunters in the middle of nowhere.. For an hour, Hunter pointed out each meteor, satellite, planet and constellation and I listened and learned. The smell of deer meat and autumn leaves, the warmth of my son alongside of me experiencing the backcountry, the crisp air; I didn't want that moment to end.

I packed the meat and rifle. Hunter packed the deer head and all of our other items. A combination of the darkness and a few cougar stories helped keep him on my heels like a well-trained collie all the way back to the truck.

...and that is the story of Hunter's first mountain blacktail... at least from a proud dad's perspective. Maybe, some evening, while alongside a campfire, you'll get to hear his version of his first mountain buck. I hope he'll always remember those feelings we shared while in the backcountry. I know I will.