predator
Very Active Member
- Messages
- 2,567
First of all, Merry Christmas!
I just thought I'd share my absolutely hilarious AZ Coue's adventure. Believe you me, it will make you laugh. I drew 23 and since I don't get the opportunity to hunt the little buggers all that often, decided to go guided. The guide was absolutely awesome, he and I got along so well it was like being with a big brother. His attitude was positive, heck he even sang while cooking, you could just see how much he enjoyed the job. Anyway, we worked our butts off trying to not only find a buck, but a shooter. We averaged 16 does a day, but rarely saw a buck. The youngun's we did see were definitely rutting, but it was a real mystery as to why the bigger bucks were hiding. I'm sure the moon didn't help, it started out nearly full and stayed pretty bright even as it shrunk. It got to actually be kinda funny, and the guide and I set each other up several times a day by saying things like "Holy cow....that's the biggest dang doe I've ever seen" or "C'mere, hurry, it's another doe".
On the second day, I got sicker than a dog and started hacking up a lung. It was on the third day we saw the bear. Not just a bear, but the biggest chocolate colored, fawn-nosed, big-bellied sucker of a blackie either one of us has ever seen! We busted to camp and verified that the season was still open. The next day we planned to buy a tag. Unfortunately the next day my voice left and I began hacking up the other lung. Went to the nearest town, but there were no urgent care type place to be seen. I was coughing so hard that it brought tears to my eyes and made me dry-heave.
There was a Wal-Mart tho, and with 30 bucks of cold remedies and a bear tag in my back pocket, we were back at it. When I called my family that night to share the exciting prospect of an AZ safari, me own mudder prohibited me from killing the bear. In fact, she said she'd stop speaking to me if I did!! Then my sister cursed me and both said they would tell God to make the bear hide so I couldn't kill it. I had no idea that there were bear-lovers surreptitiously hiding amongst my blood relations.
Lo and behold, on the fifth day it 'twas we went in search of a hopeful buck/boar combo. I hacked both lungs, now a lovely wet metallic tasting something, into the back of the guide's head all the way up the mountain, with my ears throbbing. What he thought was the quad's springs was actually me moaning in pain. We got to the area at the perfect time, and what did we find going on? A freakin' 30 mile an hour wind, that's what. Now you guys tell me how it can be calm at camp, calm all the way to the trailhead, calm on the ride, but howling wind in the one basin we wanted to hunt?? Not only that, but it kept up until the exact hour the deer normally bedded- 10 AM, at which time it completely quit. We saw no deer, and no bear. And I swore my family would pay for their apparent power of suggestion to God. We went back to camp where I continued the multi-hued hacking of my lungs. I had to admit that there was no way I could go back up high, my eardrums were killing me in camp, and that basin would require fairly strenuous packing out if we scored. I didn't want the guide to end up packing out his client, and we went back to deer hunting in the low country.
That afternoon as I was sucking tailwind in the truck, the guide jumped on the quad to check out a different quad trail. He came back in ten minutes and said he'd just jumped a shooter that was as wide as his ears and that he wasn't very spooky and just walked into the next drainage. I dragged myself out and we spent the next two days trying to find him. We heard him several times, but could never actually see him. On day 6, the guide's obligation to me was done, and we sadly parted as new friends. He was off to see his girl (and boy oh boy does he love this girl!) for a couple days, then he was off to 36 and then to Mexico.
I had scheduled my flight a couple days later, and tried to change it, but Delta said it would cost me half a grand. I told 'em to pound sand, checked into the local yokel motel and made a hard decision.
Yep, I was gonna hunt out of a rental car. Not just any rental car, mind you- but a silver Ford Taurus. Yessir, I figured I could get to within one mile of that buck's canyon if I just went realllly reallllly slow. After all, what have I got to lose? I had two days to finish killing myself with what is probably pneumonia and perhaps find that wily ole' Coue's. There were other hunters at the motel and the local restaurant and I found myself an odd celebrity. I'm sure they thought I was just some stupid dumb blonde. "yer gonna kill a deer in a rental car?? Sure you are!".
Well, I drove up every day in my beautiful car and my matching camo outfit. Now my nails and hair even looked nice after a week of not showering! I got all kinds of wierd looks, stares and outright laughing. Made me want to get out and get jiggy on some of those punk-asses...LOL. Friday evening I went back to the canyon, only this time something was very very wrong. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. No birds, no javelina, no ravens, coyotes, I mean NOTHING. As the sun set, I got kinda spooked. It was a rocky place, perfect for lion. I knew that two other guides in 22 had found lions during their client's hunts, and it wouldn't have suprised me if one was here. So I headed out a bit early.
I stepped around the point I had been glassing from and bam! Three white flags go up and take off. Two directely away. Imagine my surprise to see they were does. The other one was rocketing across the slope directly below me at about 70 yards. My heart started hammering HARD when I saw that it was buck. He headed downhill and I then saw his antlers were about as wide as his ears. He put his flag down and paused.......and the .280 did the job I asked it. I started shaking as I heaved myself down the ledges to him. I really had some buck fever, let me tell ya. When I got to him, I realized he wasn't the same buck, but was a fine Coue's nonetheless. His neck was massive, and his antlers told the tale of some mighty battles. Several tines were busted off, and he had gouges in his forehead. Dark faced with brown highlights, and a big body, he was the poster child for a Coue's. I thanked him and thanked God, then laughed hysterically at the prospect of driving to town with a buck in the trunk of a Taurus.
Well, I decided to gut him and wait until morning, as the ledges were treacherous. I got back to the motel late, but bloody and happy and you should have seen the moon eyes I got from my dormies. However, as they and I laughed our asses off and this turn of events, a couple offered to take me up in a truck to cut some distance off the pack out. I took 'em up on that, though I insisted on driving the car to the drop-off point. I then boned up my buck, packed him out and threw him the trunk of my car.
Laughed hysterically between coughing uncontrollably all the way to Sky Harbor. Glared at the Delta clerk when she told me my 65 pounds of meat was overweight and it would cost me 150 bucks. Suffered miserably on the plane when my ears wouldn't adjust. Glared at the Delta clerk in Salt Lake when my gun didn't arrive with my plane. Coughed intermidst the giggling while I waited three hours for my guns to show up, then soaked it in all the way home.
And you know what? I ate tenderloin for Christmas breakfast. I think it's the best I've ever had.
I truly wish I had pics to share because you really can't enjoy the view of a buck in the trunk of a car without them. But Delta's baggage handlers managed to kill my favorite SLR and I forgot the digital. So my description will have to do, and I hope it makes you laugh as much as it does me.
Peace ya'll,
Pred
I just thought I'd share my absolutely hilarious AZ Coue's adventure. Believe you me, it will make you laugh. I drew 23 and since I don't get the opportunity to hunt the little buggers all that often, decided to go guided. The guide was absolutely awesome, he and I got along so well it was like being with a big brother. His attitude was positive, heck he even sang while cooking, you could just see how much he enjoyed the job. Anyway, we worked our butts off trying to not only find a buck, but a shooter. We averaged 16 does a day, but rarely saw a buck. The youngun's we did see were definitely rutting, but it was a real mystery as to why the bigger bucks were hiding. I'm sure the moon didn't help, it started out nearly full and stayed pretty bright even as it shrunk. It got to actually be kinda funny, and the guide and I set each other up several times a day by saying things like "Holy cow....that's the biggest dang doe I've ever seen" or "C'mere, hurry, it's another doe".
On the second day, I got sicker than a dog and started hacking up a lung. It was on the third day we saw the bear. Not just a bear, but the biggest chocolate colored, fawn-nosed, big-bellied sucker of a blackie either one of us has ever seen! We busted to camp and verified that the season was still open. The next day we planned to buy a tag. Unfortunately the next day my voice left and I began hacking up the other lung. Went to the nearest town, but there were no urgent care type place to be seen. I was coughing so hard that it brought tears to my eyes and made me dry-heave.
There was a Wal-Mart tho, and with 30 bucks of cold remedies and a bear tag in my back pocket, we were back at it. When I called my family that night to share the exciting prospect of an AZ safari, me own mudder prohibited me from killing the bear. In fact, she said she'd stop speaking to me if I did!! Then my sister cursed me and both said they would tell God to make the bear hide so I couldn't kill it. I had no idea that there were bear-lovers surreptitiously hiding amongst my blood relations.
Lo and behold, on the fifth day it 'twas we went in search of a hopeful buck/boar combo. I hacked both lungs, now a lovely wet metallic tasting something, into the back of the guide's head all the way up the mountain, with my ears throbbing. What he thought was the quad's springs was actually me moaning in pain. We got to the area at the perfect time, and what did we find going on? A freakin' 30 mile an hour wind, that's what. Now you guys tell me how it can be calm at camp, calm all the way to the trailhead, calm on the ride, but howling wind in the one basin we wanted to hunt?? Not only that, but it kept up until the exact hour the deer normally bedded- 10 AM, at which time it completely quit. We saw no deer, and no bear. And I swore my family would pay for their apparent power of suggestion to God. We went back to camp where I continued the multi-hued hacking of my lungs. I had to admit that there was no way I could go back up high, my eardrums were killing me in camp, and that basin would require fairly strenuous packing out if we scored. I didn't want the guide to end up packing out his client, and we went back to deer hunting in the low country.
That afternoon as I was sucking tailwind in the truck, the guide jumped on the quad to check out a different quad trail. He came back in ten minutes and said he'd just jumped a shooter that was as wide as his ears and that he wasn't very spooky and just walked into the next drainage. I dragged myself out and we spent the next two days trying to find him. We heard him several times, but could never actually see him. On day 6, the guide's obligation to me was done, and we sadly parted as new friends. He was off to see his girl (and boy oh boy does he love this girl!) for a couple days, then he was off to 36 and then to Mexico.
I had scheduled my flight a couple days later, and tried to change it, but Delta said it would cost me half a grand. I told 'em to pound sand, checked into the local yokel motel and made a hard decision.
Yep, I was gonna hunt out of a rental car. Not just any rental car, mind you- but a silver Ford Taurus. Yessir, I figured I could get to within one mile of that buck's canyon if I just went realllly reallllly slow. After all, what have I got to lose? I had two days to finish killing myself with what is probably pneumonia and perhaps find that wily ole' Coue's. There were other hunters at the motel and the local restaurant and I found myself an odd celebrity. I'm sure they thought I was just some stupid dumb blonde. "yer gonna kill a deer in a rental car?? Sure you are!".
Well, I drove up every day in my beautiful car and my matching camo outfit. Now my nails and hair even looked nice after a week of not showering! I got all kinds of wierd looks, stares and outright laughing. Made me want to get out and get jiggy on some of those punk-asses...LOL. Friday evening I went back to the canyon, only this time something was very very wrong. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. No birds, no javelina, no ravens, coyotes, I mean NOTHING. As the sun set, I got kinda spooked. It was a rocky place, perfect for lion. I knew that two other guides in 22 had found lions during their client's hunts, and it wouldn't have suprised me if one was here. So I headed out a bit early.
I stepped around the point I had been glassing from and bam! Three white flags go up and take off. Two directely away. Imagine my surprise to see they were does. The other one was rocketing across the slope directly below me at about 70 yards. My heart started hammering HARD when I saw that it was buck. He headed downhill and I then saw his antlers were about as wide as his ears. He put his flag down and paused.......and the .280 did the job I asked it. I started shaking as I heaved myself down the ledges to him. I really had some buck fever, let me tell ya. When I got to him, I realized he wasn't the same buck, but was a fine Coue's nonetheless. His neck was massive, and his antlers told the tale of some mighty battles. Several tines were busted off, and he had gouges in his forehead. Dark faced with brown highlights, and a big body, he was the poster child for a Coue's. I thanked him and thanked God, then laughed hysterically at the prospect of driving to town with a buck in the trunk of a Taurus.
Well, I decided to gut him and wait until morning, as the ledges were treacherous. I got back to the motel late, but bloody and happy and you should have seen the moon eyes I got from my dormies. However, as they and I laughed our asses off and this turn of events, a couple offered to take me up in a truck to cut some distance off the pack out. I took 'em up on that, though I insisted on driving the car to the drop-off point. I then boned up my buck, packed him out and threw him the trunk of my car.
Laughed hysterically between coughing uncontrollably all the way to Sky Harbor. Glared at the Delta clerk when she told me my 65 pounds of meat was overweight and it would cost me 150 bucks. Suffered miserably on the plane when my ears wouldn't adjust. Glared at the Delta clerk in Salt Lake when my gun didn't arrive with my plane. Coughed intermidst the giggling while I waited three hours for my guns to show up, then soaked it in all the way home.
And you know what? I ate tenderloin for Christmas breakfast. I think it's the best I've ever had.
I truly wish I had pics to share because you really can't enjoy the view of a buck in the trunk of a car without them. But Delta's baggage handlers managed to kill my favorite SLR and I forgot the digital. So my description will have to do, and I hope it makes you laugh as much as it does me.
Peace ya'll,
Pred
