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The Fat Blob Incident
Includes 20 Full Length Feature Articles plus Bonus Bits and Short Jokes
Available Free ONLY to Team Sarcasm Members
See my hunt area on Google Earth starting from my camp at: 42° 11.620'N 114° 11.643'W
Deer Hunt 08: Big Buck Day
The Partridge Lesson
After having spent my first attempt at deer hunting for the year getting repeatedly rain soaked, I was in a good mood as better weather greeted me on my second trip into the South Hills. It had snowed heavily a week earlier, slamming a whopping 10 inches down around my house. The unusually warm weather that followed the unexpected storm, however, had all but removed any trace of the dumping from the valleys. The hills I now ascended were left in an odd state of dry, mud, or snow mixed, depending on where you happened to look.
I took my time traveling up Dry Creek Road that morning, content to hunt the lower desert canyons at first light. My son had taken a good buck on the West Fork of Dry Creek two years earlier, and even though the higher pine pocketed hills were my ultimate destination, the dry, rugged canyons at lower altitudes piqued my interest as well.
However, it wouldn't be a deer that would lead me to pulling a trigger that morning, but rather a fast jumping upland game bird instead. While traveling between areas in my truck, a couple of Hungarian Partridge flew up and landed just 30 yards or so off the road.
Well, I know better than to travel in this area in the fall without bringing a shotgun along, so within moments I had the truck stopped and was out the door in pursuit of the pair of birds. I walked only a few yards off the road when they suddenly flushed 30 yards up ahead of me. My shotgun popped to my shoulder out of habit and I fired quickly, dropping one of the birds. I missed a shot at the second bird moments later, but than that's just about how it usually goes with partridges. They jump fast, making a lot of noise for their small size, and away they go. Hitting one is good, two a great accomplishment, and three a rare miracle.
Content with my one hit, I set out to find my downed birdie. Being the way the little things are, however, it had completely disappeared. I began to doubt myself. Had I merely winged it? It seemed to have dumped quickly to the ground, but partridge are tougher than you would think. A broken wing will drop them, but they will shoot quickly back up on their feet and run away before you even have time to notice.
After about 15 minutes of searching, I reminded myself I was supposed to be deer hunting, not searching the desert floor for a missing Hun. However, as anxious as I was to be moving on, I just can't give up on a downed bird until I'm sure I've given it all I can.
At this point I suddenly remembered a lesson I thought I'd already learned well long ago. Always take one more look about 10 yards further than you could ever possibly imagine the animal could have dropped.
Sure enough there it was. I just needed to look a bit harder and a bit farther. This was a good lesson to be re-learned and, as it turned out, one I would be needing later on in the day.
Pocket Picking
Much of the Rock Creek area in the South Hills is open sagebrush littered with pockets of tall pines and dense aspens. These are the areas I love to hunt for deer. There just always seems to be a buck lurking around these pine pockets. They especially love to bed on the flats of the well worn ridge tops, not over the edge into the steeper canyons.
Sure enough, as I walked a couple of my favorite pine locations, I saw plenty of recent deer sign and eventually pushed one buck out of his bed. He beat me on the jump, however, and I never did really get a look at him or figure out just exactly where he went.
All this time, though, I kept thinking about the good sized buck I'd jumped on opening day two weeks previous. So, not long after noon, I decided to go back to that location and see if he happened to be home.
I've always had a working theory on how to hunt bucks in this terrain. I like to sneak slowly through pine pockets, peering carefully ahead, and listening closely for movement. Once I hear or see that I've jumped a deer, I literally run out of the pines into the surrounding open sagebrush and try to meet up with the escaping deer before he can get too far away.
Unfortunately, I developed this strategy while bow hunting because I could never draw a controlled hunt tag for the area. Well, I can tell you that for bow hunting it doesn't work. I would always end up 80-100 yards from my prey with no chance at launching an arrow.
With a rifle, however, 80-100 yards is just fine.
My Day Had Finally Come
As I approached the group of pines and aspens where I had my run in with a high antlered buck on opening day, I debated my strategy. I needed to work into the wind, of course, but I also wanted to push any deer that happened to be around in the best direction for a shot. With that in mind, I approached crossing the wind, working along the area of the densest cover, moving slowly toward the larger pines with more visibility and the open sage clearings beyond.
Once I got into the heart of the pocket where the thick, new growth pines gave way to the larger, older trees, I suddenly came upon fresh tracks in the snow --- big tracks.
I followed the line the tracks took, moving slowly downhill, trying not to make too much noise in the crusty snow. These deer had to still be either in the pines I was in or had just left as I approached. These tracks were fresh, crisp, and well defined. Wouldn't it be a kick to see the same deer I'd jumped two weeks earlier? And perhaps get a shot at him this time?
Suddenly, I heard the characteristic thump, thump, thump of mule deer trotting away through the thick, young trees just to my right. These were the two I had been tracking! I was sure of it. The heavy thumps reverberating through the forest told me without doubt these were bucks.
The game was on.
I abandoned stealth and took to running. It was time to get to a clearing, to scan the open areas around and find my opportunity. Just as I dropped down hill below the line of dense pines, I caught movement off to my right, coming out of the end of the pocket.
It was the same high antlered buck I had seen before, AND he had his big brother with him!
I sucked in a ragged breath, momentarily awed by the bigger of the two deer. There was no time for counting antler points, but I knew this dude was big. I mean, it was just plain obvious. He stood out like no other deer I'd ever seen before. His overall size was impressive. Judging by body size alone, this was one of the biggest deer I'd ever seen!
His antlers looked wide and high, very high. All I needed now was a clear opportunity.
I traced ahead along the route the two deer were taking. At the moment they trotted along behind a line of barren aspens. I could see clearly through the leafless trees, but there were still too many branches for a clean shot. As I looked ahead, however, I found an opening between two of the larger aspens that the deer were going to travel through, but just momentarily as two steps more would have them disappearing over the ridge and into the depths of the First Fork of Rock Creek.
I cast around, looking for the right place to set up for my shot. Amazingly, there was one totally branchless, dead tree right smack in the middle of the clearing I was in, and it had a perfect line of site toward the opening I needed to face.
Running up to the tree, I braced my rifle up against it and quickly found the big buck in my scope. A second later and he would break free of the mesh of aspen branches and into the open. But there would be no time to lose as a he would only need a couple more steps to be gone and out of my line of sight.
I quickly guided my crosshairs to a point behind the buck's shoulders, followed along for a mere half-second, then as the aspen branches cleared away I pulled the trigger.
It was not much more than a hundred yards, I felt confident that there was deer flesh behind the crosshairs as I fired, but as I looked through the scope again, the buck simply trotted over the ridge and vanished. He didn't even appear to stumble or even so much a flinch from my shot!
Did I miss? How could I have missed? I couldn't have just plain missed, could I?
Fearing the worst, I bolted ahead, hoping to catch sight of the deer again as I topped over the ridge myself. Panting and looking about frantically as I peaked over the top of the ridge line, I came up with nothing.
Had I hit him? I wondered. Was he wounded, yet still moving, or did I miss completely?
No way! I was right on him!
I wanted to cut the buck's trail and storm down into the canyon bottom after him, but that, I knew, wasn't going to be the right thing to do. I needed to look for blood back where I had taken the shot. I needed to know exactly what I was going to be chasing after before heading down into the steep creek bottom.
(continue on the next page) (photo set)
