Cold and dry air makes the ground very crunchy; mix that with the stunningly still air and quiet movement was very difficult today. I did my best. I started in late morning, 10:30 or so, moving down the road, intending to hunt the back section to the right (south) where I had spotted a couple lovely does yesterday. As I moved toward a very prolific section to the left (northeast) I decided to step into the woods just to see what was moving around. I did my very best fox walk, not easy in this type of weather, but it was working pretty well. I moved pretty quietly and very, very slowly, finally kneeling near good cover with a nice view of the pine forested ridge in front. Dad and I had watched a half dozen does here a few days before and yesterday I even had a coyote in his gorgeous winter coat approach me when I hunted this ridge from the top.
I sat for a long time, at least a half hour and saw...nothing. It was odd, this area always has something moving, but not today for some reason. I crunched along and headed up the ridge. If the deer aren't where you expect them then hunt somewhere else so I decided to try the swampy area around Lime Creek, a place I have never really hunted. And nothing there, either. Strange. I decided to walk back out to the road and hunt the area I originally intended. On the way out I spotted the reason I had seen nothing. Orange. Another hunter had been sitting at the top of that ridge, we were likely facing each other, at least several hundred yards apart. We saw each other and he just kept walking towards his truck, his folding chair in his hand. I walked to his truck and we spoke for a while; he was moving on so I decided to keep on hunting, that original spot still in my mind.
After a little sojourn over the RR tracks to gather some juniper berries to snack on, I made it to the spot in the road where the trail started. This is an old two-track so the walking was pretty easy although still really crunchy. I made my way all the way to the end without spotting anything, then turned right (west) and into the deep woods.
There is a fairly steep ridge here, on the edge of a mature pine forest. My plan was to make it through these woods to where there are a bunch of day beds, thinking the deer may be taking advantage of the occasional sunlight to warm themselves. The wind picked up a little, breaking the incredible silence of the day so far. For hours the only natural thing I had heard was the sound of the ravens and crows and magpies feasting on a dead doe (I had scouted this site yesterday, wondering what all the commotion was about).
I inched toward the ridge, not wanting my head to be too obvious when I poked it over the edge. I walked a little, scanned the forest, walked another step and scanned some more, each time able to see a little more of the mature pine forest. There is little brush or other cover here, mostly just big pines. Another step and I saw a white tail flying. Oh no! Had I moved too fast or had it scented me on the wind? Then I saw that the tail belonged to a doe who was prancing around a buck, a big buck. First I saw the size of the animal, then I saw a big rack of horns... sort of. His right antler was big but the left looked stunted but I couldn't tell, I was a pretty long way off. He was facing me although I was a couple dozen feet higher on the top of the ridge. I raised my rifle and scoped him; that flashing tail had me a little excited about how much time I had and the fact that he was looking my direction tempted me to hurry. Tempted me, but I did not take the bait. I took a deep breath and scoped him good. Yes, he was big and his horn on his right was nice, but the left appeared to be broken. Yes he was looking in my direction he but did not seem overly excited about it. I steadied myself with another big breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger. This was a long shot, 150 yards at least, through the trees, with me standing, no rest. My shot was true, it felt good, a kill shot. I racked in another shell and bent to pick up my spent brass (which I couldn't find).
Walking down the hill I noticed a deer still standing there; the doe was bent over, sniffing him, wondering why he was laying on the ground. That was very sad. He had fallen a few feet from where he had stood, still facing the same direction. The doe shot off as I got near.
I sat with the buck as life left him. I talked to him and watched. I find this very hard to do when I hunt, but I will not look away; I wanted to be present with his passing, to honor him and honor my grief at having taken his life. I had done this. I thanked him, praised his beauty, mourn that the forest will be a little less beautiful, a little less wild without him. I had done this.
The end result is a strange buck, a 3x1 (maybe 1.5); his left antler grows this way, it is not broken. I am happy to have taken a buck with a genetic anomaly from the gene pool. He is probably the biggest buck I have shot, I'm not sure of his dressed weight, but he's pretty big. A friend who helped load him in the ATV trailer to haul him out mentioned a neighbor with a bunch of strange little spike horns around his property with a single tine, or one much longer than the other. We wondered if this guy fathered these young bucks as I had shot him very close to his property.
Again, I thank this deer for giving his life. I will honor, value, and cherish him as he becomes a part of me.
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