My Toughest Mule Deer Hunt
Posted: Saturday, January 30, 2010
by Jack H. Schick
I'd shot a lot of mule deer during my years in Wyoming, but I'd never gotten a really nice buck. That year I was convinced I would. I'd scouted a low ridge line about forty miles northwest of Casper on the divide between the Powder River and Casper Creek watersheds. Each time I was there I'd seen several of the biggest racked mulies I'd ever run into. I arraigned my schedule to have the first day of deer season off work. I was there an hour before light on the morning of the toughest deer hunt of my life.
The north side of the ridge is broken with a series of steep eroded draws and coolees laced with deep cut gullies. That side of the ridge was used for strafing practice by pilots training at the Casper air base during WWII. It's not unusual to find .50 caliber bullets in the sandy soil. The only access to the north, eroded side of the ridge line, is by foot, from a jeep trail that runs along the crest or from the delta like washouts at the bottom of the gullies.
Well before light on First Day I was parked just off the main road. I didn't want to drive the jeep trail in the dark and spook off any deer that might be out and about before I could see. There was an half inch of snow that had fallen over night, but it wasn't very cold. I knew which coolee I wanted to hunt first. I was anxious and excited about my prospects for finally getting a "big one".
I was a little disappointed when another truck pulled onto the jeep trail behind me. I quickly started up and drove out the ridge line ahead of them to be sure I was the first one to 'my spot'. As I bounced along I saw two deer run across in front of me and down over the crest into a draw. It was too dark to see what they were so I went on. The other hunters drove on past me, so at least I had that spot to myself.
I sat near the top of the ridge scanning the draw, almost canyon, below me with binoculars for over an hour. Nothing was moving. My enthusiasm faded some. I knew there were deer somewhere in the labyrinth of dry washes and gullies below. I'd have to go in and find them since they apparently were not going to show themselves and simplify my hunt.
I spent the next few hours hiking some of the roughest terrain I'd ever hunted. The snow had melted and it was muddy. The gullies were deep and had sheer sides that required much labor to climb across. The sides of the draws were steep and slippery. I lost my footing or slid and fell many times.
By the time I'd covered several of the coolees and climbed back up to the truck I was exhausted. My legs hurt and my sholders were sore from carrying the rifle and backpack. It was almost noon. I was very frustrated and had given up hope of tagging my "big one". There were no deer and I'd left more tracks in the mud than I'd seen. I decided to give up and head home.
On the way back to the main road I decided to give it one more chance and stopped where I'd seen the deer cross the trail, now almost six hours before. I thought I had enough energy and desire left to stalk down one more draw. When I got a few hundred yards from the truck I hear noise behind me. I turned to see a doe and one of the big bucks I was looking for bolting at full speed up the hill side behind me. I took a quick shot at the running deer at about 200 yards and missed.
Since they were the only deer I'd seen my enthusiasm was re-kindled. I decided to track them. It would be easy over the muddy ground. I followed then across the top of one draw and, after a quarter mile, they slowed to a walk. I continued on the track across the top of two more draws and relized it was one I had recently been in.
I could see every trail and gully from where I stood, about a quarter way down from the top. I scanned the entire valley closely with my binoculars. I could could follow my own foot prints in the mud. I saw no fresh deer tracks. I realized the deer had either gone over the top of the ridge onto the open praire which was unlikely, or were still in that draw somewhere between me and the top. I decided to cross it keeping an eye up hill.
I'd tossed my rifle up into the grass above me as I struggled up out of a deep gully when I spotted the big buck running diagonally across the open hill side above me. He was at about 150 yards and a good 100 yards from the next ridge line. I muscled my way up and out of the gully, picked up the rifle and quick shot. The deer didn't flinch. I said to myself, "Take your time. You've got plenty of time." I put the cross hairs on his chest and fired again. The deer didn't flinch. I didn't know how I could have missed, twice. When the buck got to the top of the hill, before he disappeared over the top, he did a little studder step. I knew I'd hit him, but he'd kept going.
I found a few drops of blood when I finally got up to the top of the hill where I'd last seen him. I followed his tracks down to where he'd laid in the grass. There was alot of blood. From there he'd apparently jumped up and took off through the tall grass toward a gully. It took me over an hour of back and forth searching for a blood trail before I found him, about 100 yards down the valley on the brink of a ravine. He was a large, heavy racked ten pointer, the biggest mule deer I'd ever shot.
When I dressed him out I investigated the wound, wondering how I'd missed with one of my shots (I was using a .270, 130 grain, pointed soft point). I found a single entry hole, through the lungs. Examining the exit wound I discovered that I hadn't missed. There were two exit holes with a quarter inch of skin between them. I'd put two bullets in the same spot! That's probably why he'd run so far. The second bullet did no additional damage.
The start of the drag was easy, 100 yards across grass. When I got to the base of the hill he'd gone over I realized I was in trouble. Had I not been exausted from the hunt there was still no way I'd be able to get him up and out of that draw by myself. I faced a 45 degree muddy slope with a backpack, a rifle and a 200 pound deer. I always was prepared for that problem, though.
I cut the deer in half just below the rib cage. I tied the hind legs together and slung the back half over my shoulders with my pack and rifle then staggered to the top of the ridge. I left everything there behind a sage bush when I hiked the mile back to where I'd left the truck. The second trip, with the front half, was even more difficult. My energy level was near zero. I couldn't drag it up the steep hill, but had to carry it. With the head, rack and neck, it was by far the heavier half. I had to stop every ten yards to catch my breath or rub my muscle cramps. I hardly had the energy to lift the halves into the truck. I took a nap before I drove back to Casper.
I shot my biggest deer on my toughest deer hunt, which is probably appropriate. I'd hiked several rugged miles before I found him. I trailed him close to a mile before I got the shots. I had my toughest time ever getting a deer out. He didn't come close to making the record book, but it's an experience and a memory I've relived again and again ever since.
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Top-level comments on this article: (3 total)In 2011 I hope to draw Pinon Canyon and duplicate your hunt (the results - not all the exercise... and Mick will be my hunting guide!) I should have ONE more preference point than I need to draw that area GRIN.good luck. Have fun
Hi Jack. Thank you for sharing this with us. I have never gone hunting but I can tell how passionately involved you are to this sport.All the best to you and yours,NenitaThanks for reading
Jack, that was a great story. The only time I've been deer hunting, I missed my shot. Though is did hit a rabbit with a .303 enfield (magnesium bullet) but there wasnt' much left. The guys I was with laughed pretty hard about that...[big sigh]Thanks again for reading. Don't let Greg know you don't hunt. It's so un-Rebublican.It's not that I've not WANTED to...it's having the time and places to do so...LOL. Have you ever seen what a magnesium bullet can do to a bunny? It's pretty amazing...fur...everywhere. Kinda like shooting a sparrow with #7 shot from 10'....poof.never afforded them. I have seen what a .22 hollow point Stinger does
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