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Back in January we were careless. Ron and I applied for elk separately, with
the idea that the odds are better for at least one of us to get drawn. We have
a standing commitment that we would support whoever may get a tag. Well, turns
out our choices allowed that we both could get drawn, for the same time, but in
different hunt units. That is what happened, his one of those limited
opportunity hunts, mine for Unit 22. To potentially help him get more info for
his area(s), we opted to make Unit 19B our first choice for deer. We drew that.
Friend and hobby gunsmith Ron was also on our application. He had threaded both
our Tikka barrels to allow installation of a brake or suppressor. But severe
back pain prevented him from going on the hunt.
Once temperatures came down a little in October, two scouting trips left us with
a bad attitude, to be honest. Even at the waterholes we saw maybe one deer
track, at the one with the most water, no sign of deer at all. Additionally,
the area was rather thick with juniper trees. I set up a shooting table anyway, overlooking a hill that had at least a few open spots. We determined we would
hunt to no later than Wednesday morning, then go home and decide if we would go
back for the tail end of the 10-day season.
On opening day the place was going to be sunny and hot, making it impossible
to walk quietly. So I sat at my table for a good ten hours. The only creature
I saw that had four legs was a lizard. Ron had opted to cover a Game & Fish
trick tank, also without any beast coming in. That just fueled our bad
attitude. Still, Saturday we did the same thing. No change at my spot. Back
in camp that evening Ron reported that right after sundown a doe and buck had
approached. Apparently, his hiding spot was too obvious. The two became
suspicious prior to even getting to the fence and departed the way they’d come
before he could get a shot. Darn.
In response he moved to another tree Sunday morning and fixed up a blind there
differently. Meanwhile I abandoned my table and hill, and just gambled that a
buck, perhaps the one Ron had seen, might show himself in an opening at a flat
area about a quarter mile away from the tank Ron lurked at. Again I put in
many hours without seeing any mammal. Right at 5:30PM, with the sun behind the
horizon, I decided I’d sit five more minutes and then slowly hunt back to camp.
That never happened because a moment later the sharp bark of Ron’s 30-06 jolted
me. I smiled and turned on the walkie talkie, as we had agreed. Soon his
crackling voice came in: “Hey, can you hear me?” “Copy.” “I can’t find the
deer.” “OK, I’ll see you at the tank.” Once there, with light now fading
noticeably, we tried to determine where the buck had stood when he shot it.
After many minutes we found no blood. Then I began to walk in the general
direction Ron had seen the deer run after the hit, which, by the way, made
that deer come up with his front legs flailing, usually a sign of a hard hit,
in this case from a Federal Deer Thugs 180 gr. bonded softpoint. It had gone
about 60 yards. “Hey Ron, come over here! - Congratulations!”
Ron had taken the shot through the narrow opening on the left, with the
deer standing behind the fence, some 70 yards away. It was a limited
time opportunity and he did not hesitate. |
We got Ron’s 4Runner, did the red work, and had his forked horn in camp and
skinned by a little after 7PM. More importantly, Ron believed that this buck
was different from the one that spooked the evening before.
Monday Ron butchered the nicely cooled out buck while I took over his spot.
I had never hunted at a trick tank before. The area has a special fence all
around to keep cattle out but allowing deer to easily step through it – and
javelina under it. Elk have no problem jumping over. The water is only for
wildlife.
Before shooting light dozens of doves came in for a drink. And from about 7
o’clock on the bird activity never seemed to stop - jays, blue birds, flickers
and many who’s proper name I do not know. Then an hour later I got really
excited! A deer had just disappeared behind a juniper, almost the same place
where Ron’s buck had stood. Now with rifle in hands I watched as another mule
deer came into view, right-to-left. No antlers. Wait, another, also a doe.
Then a yearling. I remained at the ready. Yes, soon they came back, left-to-right.
In total four doe with the yearling. I remained on the gun, hopeful for a buck
to follow. Did not happen.
Now, this place was the most comfortable I ever sat in a hunting blind, because
Ron had brought an old patio chair, its brown and grey color scheme not at all
offensive. Still, after enough time my butt even in that fine chair demanded
that I stand up for a change. While doing this for the second time that morning,
around 10 AM, my Tikka rested on a tree branch and a tripod, parallel to the
ground, trained in the general direction the deer had been. That is also the
time a doe showed up at the exact opposite direction, to my right, not 20 steps
away. I was utterly unarmed. She did not make me. But with me standing and a
big branch in front of my chest, even my .45 ACP was basically miles away, on
the ground in a backpack pocket for an easy reach WHEN sitting in that chair.
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Consequently, I did not move a muscle as deer after deer filtered through the
trees to my right, going for the water basin. Luckily, sort of, no buck was
among those six deer. Therefore I dared to test them, or me, by very, very
slowly sitting back down. I then fished out my small Canon camera. Oh, that
all got the attention of some of them, about 45 yards away. Apparently they
did not recognize the danger and did not flee.
When they had their fill they left without panic. Was it the same bunch from
about two hours prior? There was one more of them now. From then on I always
took the Kimber into the tree with me when standing up, just in case. Its
purpose all along was to allow the option of a close-range shot to my right,
where I cannot aim my rifle when sitting in any chair. The pistol, holding 13
rounds, also serves as protection should a feisty bear or any other
threatening being show too much interest in me, from any direction.
Nothing else showed up that Monday. Except the doves returned at last light.
I had been waiting for 12 hours.
Tuesday very early I was back, wearing quite a few more clothes. It was
obviously colder. Nothing happened until I had just begun to eat my sandwich,
a little after noon. Four javelina just bolted in from under the tree past
the tank from me. Long story short, they played the area for about two hours.
Drinking, munching, one of them coming within four steps of me. Another
briefly taking a break within maybe 20 steps, and two resting for an hour
under the next tree behind my location, 15 steps away. They did not detect
me, either. Another 12 hours that day. No deer showed up.
Wednesday was it, I would leave around 10:30AM. It had been freezing overnight.
Now the little birds looked fat, their way of coping with the cold. Desire is
a form of suffering. So is sitting in ambush. There was one more little treat
the good Lord had in store for me. Right at 10AM again a deer worked its way
through the trees on my right, like two days ago, towards the open water. This
time I was prepared, had practiced and now slowly moved the muzzle of my rifle
their way. This time seven deer enjoyed the water, but still no antlers. I
waited in anticipation for a late-comer buck. Nothing. As planned, I ended
the hunt that morning. I will never know how much longer before a buck would
seek that water.
So we drove home, Ron happy with a buck and a good idea what to do during his
elk hunt, because the area had elk sign. Me with some shot from my Canon,
memories of quite a bit of excitement and the lessons learned to not have a
bad attitude based on what I don’t see, that water does bring life, especially
in an arid region. I would leave for Germany in a few days.
© Honeywell Sportsman Club. All rights reserved.
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