Goin' Rogue!

 

frozen bobcat track

 

We are now done venison hunting until next fall. Our last hunt of the year was Hunter's late-season blacktail tag on the Rogue unit. This was a hunt we looked forward to all year long...Hunter knew the there was potential for big bucks, and I was just simply happy to be with my oldest child doing what I love most, hunting deer.

I've heard Hunter talk about taking a "trophy" animal multiple times now; I remember this spring when he said "longbeard only this morning dad!", 5 minutes later he pulled the trigger on the prettiest shortbearded jake you've ever laid eyes on. I recall this fall when he wanted a big Cascade blacktail and once a small forked-antler buck presented himself at 275 yards, Hunter was scramblin' for the rifle barking orders at his dad....ahhhh, all great memories.



abstract puddle art

I've don't measure a hunt by the size of the antlers though I prefer to take mature animals because....well, I really don't know why I hunt mature animals. I know they don't taste any better. I guess mostly because of  the idea that the old veteran buck has eluded so much danger in it's life and the raw challenge to hunt him down and kill him. Big buck hunting is a primal and natural behavior that seems to mature with age and experience; my boy shouldn't be feeling those urges for at least another couple deer.

 "So if there was a small 2-point buck right along the road here, would you shoot it?" I would quiz Hunter as we bounced along in the pickup going from spot to spot. "Probably not on this hunt, I don't want the hunt to end already" he replied after playing the scenario out in his mind. I was a bit surprised because when I was 12 I was biting at the bit just to see a buck!



The weather had been real dry without moisture for weeks; needless to say, blacktail sightings weren't as common as we'd hoped. In fact, it felt like an October hunt more than a December hunt. We didn't let the sunny weather bring us down, we made the best of the hunt eating lots of junk food, making huge campfires at night for our hotdog dinners, sleeping in the back of the pickup, but mostly doing a lot of talking, glassing, and enjoying the beautiful country.



Hot dogs and a warm fire!



We saw deer in the mornings and evenings, including a couple decent bucks, but without any opportunuties for a good buck. The third morning of our hunt, buck rubs on small pines and willows lined the road on the drive in and we'd imagine how big the buck had to be to make such a rub. We parked on an old landing and walked off the edge glassing over a steep burn, in no time we spotted a deer across the canyon. I could see the facial markings looked bucky but it certainly didn't look too big...I finally verified there were antlers. Hunter didn't ask any questions he was already grabbing the gun and the shooting sticks.

Moments before we spotted the buck

"400 yards Hunter, I don't know. It's a looong ways" I shook my head curious on how Hunter would respond. "Please dad, he is looking at us, he's gonna run away if we try and get closer!" he whispered loudly. He had a good point. It was now or never. We set him up on a stump that happened to have a rock beside it making a perfect natural shooting bench. I tried, like always, to show Hunter to let the stump hold the rifle...less room for error. But like life is for a growing boy, he is learning to do things his own way and "dad, shhh. I can do this!"

Hunter's shooting bench

"I'm gonna shoot" "Son, wait for him to get from behind the tree, what do you think that bullet can rip through a 5" pine?" The buck moves from behind the tree and heads uphill to get away from the two monkeys jabberin' across the canyon. "Dad, make him stop!" "Get ready to shoot. Bwahhh" (my best impression of a loud deer bleat). The buck stops and turns to look quartering away. The 110 grain bullet flew straight and entered the through last rib, through the stomach, into the lungs and settled in the buckskin on the opposite shoulder. The buck walked 10 yards and fell over dead.

The kid can hold steady on the trigger. We stopped in Butte Falls for a congratulatory burger. The folks inside wanted to hear Hunter's story and patted his back and high fives all around. No electronics for three days, just me and my boy and a rifle. We can't wait till next fall. 

one deadly mushroom