Four of us had applied together, then received our second choice tags,
whitetail in Unit 31. But on the Thursday before opening day both Doug and the
Oberst had to cancel due to medical reasons. Bad timing for aging to show its
effects. Daniel and I left as planned, and arrived just as darkness fell at a spot
near Klondyke (unfortunately we’re still in Arizona) where I had camped four
seasons ago.
Opening morning is always exciting. Anticipation is at an absolute high. A deer,
make that a buck, could be detected or could bolt from any of the sparse junipers,
or heavily-brushed wash bottoms. However, by 11AM such a scenario had not played
out. Two does was the yield at that point. Despite the ever increasing midday heat
we pushed our already tiring bodies up one more side canyon, then in a wide loop
back to camp. What’s next to impossible to put into words is the strain, bordering
on agony, that goes along with climbing or descending in an environment where the
sun unleashes its might (temps in the mid-eighties) and where every plant in some
way pokes or scratches you while deer remain out of view. By 12:30 we fell into
camp, exhausted, bummed, hungry. Hunting hard yielded no rewards. We hid in the
shade until at least 3:30PM.
Then came a great idea. Hunt smart, not hard. Why not drive on top of the ridge
and find a tree somewhere not too far off the road to sit in the shade there, with
more country to look over, thus possibly spying a buck. Oh, even better, there was
a waterhole up there somewhere. With this heat why not overlook that tank from a
shaded location! We grabbed our gear and put the Toyota to work. Indeed a juniper
allowed us to wait in shaded ambush for critters to seek water.
It was supposed to be simple. That strategic tree was less than three hundred
steps from the parked 4Runner. I left the GPS and water bottle, and took a chair
instead. By about 4PM we were in position. Nothing showed. Except after some
forty minutes two hunters popped over the ridge we’d hoped would bring us a buck,
or two. We were forced to change our plans, moved to the next ridge to the
southwest. I left the chair under that tree, to be recovered on our way back.
The next ridge appeared so-so, but the one after that featured trees right on top,
with apparently promising vantage point. A juniper indeed offered such glassing
opportunities. We worked our binoculars until the sun disappeared behind the next
ridge – and had not seen a thing, not even the other two hunters. Time to return
to the SUV.
Slipping down the far ridge a little, just in case a deer … There! Indeed, a
whitetail was fleeing up the opposite side. In the scope, looking against the
bright light on the western horizon, confirming this critter as a buck wasn’t easy.
But it was a buck! Now about a hundred and fifty paces across, my bullet was out
of the barrel as he slowed a little. Missed – the buck climbed with more vigor.
My second shot missed as well – Daniel told me afterwards that he could not find
that beast in the scope; it was his first ever deer hunt, his first ever time to
aim a rifle at an animal. All I remember about shot number three is that I meant
to position the crosshairs to where I thought the deer, now the better part of two
hundred paces away, would be in about a half second.
Again I immediately cycled the Remington 700 Titanium’s bolt after the shot, but
could no longer see the buck running. A search with the Leupold scope revealed
something very beautiful, one hind leg kicking in mid air.
As made apparent during the red work, one of the misses had cut a groove along
the buck’s brisket, with hair missing for several inches. My third .308 Win 150
grain AccuBond had indeed found its target, by first smashing into the deer’s
right hind leg bone just barely above the knee, pulverizing both, then slipping
into the belly just behind the last rib, missing the guts but slicing through the
liver, then on into the lungs, diagonally through his heart, breaking a rib on its
way out, and coming to rest right there before entering his left shoulder. The
mangled projectile weighed 97 grains. Lucky shot.
Speaking of luck, I seemed to have spent it all at that point. A few quick pictures,
tagging, gutting, and it was – DARK. Neither of us had a flashlight, they were in
the vehicle. Daniel had his GPS on him. But since we had meant to just sit by the
waterhole he didn’t bother to mark the location of the parked Toyota. Either way,
the deer had to be dragged uphill, towards the road.
What may have been a hundred pounds of critter quickly felt to me like a mammoth.
Maybe that’s what also made the distance traveled feel like miles. Whatever,
eventually we reached ‘the fence’.
It was dark-dark now. I instructed Daniel to scout ahead to see if I could drive up
to that fence. Well, he disappeared for an uncomfortable long time, only to report
that he had gone a long ways without finding the road. Hmm, darn.
More dragging, by now suspicious that that ‘mammoth’ was feeding and gaining weight
along the way. Frequent breaks burnt more time and residual light. No moon showed
up to help us out. Eventually we decided that abandoning the deer in favor of
finding the road made the most sense, especially since we made our path more by feel
than by sight, not a good situation when plenty of cacti decorate the high desert
floor.
Daniel did mark the deer’s location on his GPS. Considering that we may have
inadvertently paralleled the road instead of heading straight for it, we decided to
back track, back to ‘the fence’. After who knows how many yards we gave that up as
well. Visibility was now only what the stars and Milky Way offered up.
Call it faith, call it reasoning, call it common sense, I concluded that the road
that got us here wound in sort of a loop, and that as long as we would keep heading
uphill (the horizon was barely visible) we would reach that road somewhere. It may
take extra walking distance, but it would lead us back to my 4Runner.
So we back-back-tracked, steadily uphill. Sure enough, eventually we stepped onto
the road, by our estimations way to the left of the vehicle. But what was this shape
to our left?! I could not identify it. But it had to be my Toyota, not thirty five
steps away. It was. It was also 7:45PM.
Daniel suggested we get the flashlight and go find the deer. I suggested we’d do it
right from now on, to drive back to camp, fetch the lantern and a fresh bottle of
propane, and then return to find the deer. He agreed.
We were both too happy to be re-united with our ride. So neither one of us had the
great idea to check the GPS as to how far the deer was from my parked vehicle.
Instead we bounced down the road to camp, and returned with the lantern.
As we neared the location where we had initially parked to get to the waterhole,
Daniel had his GPS tell us the distance to my buck. While I was still driving he
began to read out loud the distance: .25 miles; .2 miles; .15 miles; .1 miles – hey,
I injected, we ought to find him if he’s that close (I was still driving) – 500 feet;
300 feet… When I finally parked the Toy in that exact spot again, the distance to
the deer was 94 feet!
That’s right, all we would have had to do is drag him another thirty steps uphill,
and we’d have him not only to the road, but right to the vehicle. Daniel with his
GPS found him before I had the new propane bottle attached and the lantern lit,
thirty steps away! We laughed, and pledged to never be that stupid again.
By 10:30PM I finally had my buck hanging and skinned. Nicely cooled overnight, he
was ready to be cut into eight pieces and transferred into an ice chest with frozen
jugs before we left camp again.
Daniel had his chance at a buck that morning. Under similar circumstances, deer
running up an opposite slope about two hundred steps across, he missed twice, barely.
The deer got away.
We, however, will not forget this hunt with all our bad decisions.
