five_point_buck
Very Active Member
- Messages
- 1,021
Its a little long, so buckle up.....
With great anticipation of another great Colorado hunt, we loaded up the trucks and hooked up the jeep for the haul East. The thought of our third season tags wrapped around the monstrous racks of rutting Colorado mulies produced electricity that easily drowned out the monotony of city life. Would this be the year? The weather wasn?t kind to the second season, producing 65-degree t-shirt weather. Reports acknowledged the excellent horn growth and green hillsides that lie in wait.
The daydreams quickly were erased at 9 p.m. running through Sacramento. As I caught sight of the rooster tail made of hot sparks trailing our Jeep we veered onto the shoulder. Seems the two years of hard work my brother had put into restoring an old 74 CJ5 to near mint condition had been for not. Speculation that a bearing must have frozen became reality. The back wheel came off, studs and all, and bounced over the truck behind us (My buddy Rich saids it missed him by a few feet). His ghost white look of horror set the tone for the fun that lie ahead. It seems that that wheel and its 33? super swamper bounced right into oncoming traffic, where a pretty SUV T-boned it into space. After a meeting roadside with a CHP officer and a call to a tow company, a plan was organized. Three hours later the tow to friend?s house was complete.
We were east bound and down?again.
By Thursday afternoon, we had put the disaster behind us and pulled into our area. We quickly got everything set-up and went out for a quick scouting effort. It was good to see bucks and does in all the familiar spots. Lots of forkies as wide as their ears with decent forks, a good handful of 3x3?s, and a few 4x4?s in the 22?-24? range. The boys were out sniffin? the ladies, the sage was green and its sweet smell was overpowering.
Friday found us in Meeker for the traditional lunch at the Meeker Hotel. Getting lost in the freakish racks and mounts does wonders for your field judging ability. Nonetheless, we had a good lunch and told lies about the years past and discussed the plan of attack for the impending opener. There was a bite to the air, and the forecast called for the magical white stuff.
Opening day
The opener greeted us with a dusting of powder, and it appeared that the greatest hunt we would ever know was set to play out before us. The fresh powder almost muted the usual disturbances?. ATV trespassers, hunters that are confused about property boundaries (some of the same guys have been confused about where the property starts and stops for 10 years). Nonetheless, we spied a decent 4x4 and many does. Life was good. A call on the radio brought good news, Jerry had dropped a cow elk. So, we packed up our stuff, and made our way to lend a hand. It's always good to get something on the hook on day one. We were off and rolling.
Sunday
The morning hunt was slow; temps were in the 40?s and rising. We saw a few new bucks but nothing worth punching a tag on day two. By afternoon the weather was in the high 50?s and low 60?s. WTF?. It's the second week of November? Where?s the white out storms, where is the cold weather that freezes the snot in your nose?
Another revelation was made. In years past, the ranch fields would be teaming with small groups of does in the morning and evening. Typically, animals would feed during the night and then filter off into the public expanses to do what deer do all day long. Then they would filter back at the end of shooting light. Sometimes you got lucky and could intercept one coming or going to and from. Not this year. It seems that the amount of forage and cover, a direct result of another easy winter and wet spring and summer had created some conditions like nothing we had ever seen. It was like hunting something brand new. No longer would the old haunts and stale strategies produce, we had to rethink the operation. It was a refreshing challenge that we gratefully accepted.
At the end of the morning hunt, the radio cracked again. It was another hunting partner, Terry. He had connected on a nice 4x4 with really good eye guards. It was Terry?s second buck of his young hunting career and he was thrilled. So, off we went to help with the chores. Two animals on the hook, Good times.
Monday
Monday afternoon, my Brother and I settled into an old favorite spot in between two flats that were book-ended by two ravines. We settled in behind the spotter with good views of a few draws and a saddle or two. As the end of the day drew near, the deer began to emerge. We went mobile and side hilled from corner to corner, playing the wind, and picking apart a lot of country. All at once, a good 4x4 crested the flat from down below. The buck was consumed by the two sweeties he trailed. We got good glass on him at 375. My brother Jason thought it was a little beyond the range he was comfortable with. We had time and were in a great spot, so we watched. It was cool to be able to get the spotter on him and get a real good handle on what we were looking at. He was a good 4x4 with good forks and eye guards. He would be the biggest buck Jason had ever killed, and he was the biggest buck we had seen so far on the trip. Suddenly the does had it in their mind that they needed some space, so the worked right at us. As they closed to under 100 yards, the buck, who for the last few minutes was side tracked and fixated on another group of does, decided he just couldn't bare to be with out these does. He half galloped in to remake his acquaintance.
Well, the speed and enthusiasm in which he approached scared the pellets out of the girls and off they went. In an instant, we went from having a good 4x4 dead to rights to having three deer running to an upwind draw to our left. Crap-ola.
We dropped our gear, grabbed the rifles and sticks and quickly side-hilled through the PJ?s trying to get an angle. I had seen deer move up this cut before, and had a good idea where he was headed. As we broke out of the junipers, we caught him at 200 yards in the middle of some dead cedars. The advantage was all his. This buck had our wind, he could see us, and he had two options; break right into a maze of tangled junipers and finger draws, or follow his gals left into another draw. Luckily he drew left and picked his ways towards the ladies. As he reached the cover of the cedars, he stopped to look back. When he stopped I called ?Take him? and I heard the beautiful sound of the .270 report, then the ?Twomp? of a good hit. The buck hit the deck with a cloud of dust. Instantly he got up and bolted. With the chaos of unseen does erupting it was hard to follow where he went. Jason and I got together to talk about the shot. He prides himself on being his departments ?skeet champion? and has always been a good shot. I felt good when the first words he said were ?I had a good steady rest on the sticks and had a good quartering shot as he stopped, when I caught that last rib in line with the front leg, I let loose and he went down?. If that wasn?t a ringing endorsement for one dead deer I don't know what could be. We followed up the shot and found absolutely no blood. Grrreeeeaat. After a few circles and countless reenactments we decided to split as light was fading fast. I left to get the truck and pick up Rich. Nearly 30 minutes later I returned with Rich and the truck. The first words I heard were ?bring me my backpack I need my head lamp?. Silently I thought, ?We?re screwed?. As I walked over I caught a glimpse of fur on the ground, then a leg, then a big smile on Jason?s face. The bullet had lodged deep in the chest, but never exited. The buck ran over a small hill and died on the backside. Somehow he managed to see the white horns in near pitch-black conditions. Pictures and high fives followed. At the end of day we had three animals on the hook?.. Life was good.
(l-r) Larry, Jason, & Rich w/ Jason?s 4x4
Tuesday
Tuesday morning rolled around quickly, and the three of us decided to walk into a spot with a good vantage of the large valley that is fed by many fingers, nooks, and crannies. In years past, it's been a good doe hangout. With the pre-rut heating up we figured it was worth the walk. As we got into position, I pulled up my binoculars and my first focus locked onto a nice 4x4 raking some saplings at 280 yards. We quickly assembled the spotter and got eyes on him. He wasn?t real wide, he wasn?t real heavy, and he wasn?t even really tall. I offered the right of first refusal to Rich. He hesitated. Then the light bulb went off in my head. Times like these are few and far between. Rarely are the three of us together looking at a mature buck, holding a tag, on a great trip. Could there be a better scenario for filling my tag? After all, I had burned my last two tags waiting on a monster. This year I had an elk tag so at least my hunt wouldn't be finished. What the heck! Little did we know, two does were right below us and didn't like our presence. I quickly got into a rock solid prone position with my pack making a super solid rest. I felt good. The alerted deer casually trotted out to 325. They crossed the river and as they came up the far bank I let the first one go. We thought the shot was good, but the group of deer headed for a draw. There was some confusion about the range of the second shot, but it was clearly a hit. Instead of going down, off the buck went. Luckily I had a commanding view. The buck got to a open spot and I lined him up again. TWOMP. Three shots, two hits. The buck then ambled off to lie down under a juniper. We high-fived and waited for his head to drop.
Houston, we have a problem.
Shot (1) was at 400 yards, (2) 525, (3) 630. I have never ever wanted to shoot that far, and was half sick that I wasn?t deadly at 400. I was in a bad spot now. I had a buck bedded at 650yards with two shots in him. I had one route to get closer, but the entire path would be in plain sight of him. While we debated and schemed, we kept close tabs on him in the spotter. He rose again and I put one more out there, a miss. He managed to go another 50 yards, obviously very hurt. Once again he laid down. This time in a spot that I could sneak on. I quickly moved out and cut the distance to 378. All the while, some guys about a half-mile off were serving up a serious volley of shots. I think the sounds of gunfire forced my buck to hold tight. I got to my spot as Rich looked for a river crossing. 15 minutes had passed before he tried to get up again. A magpie had landed on his back and he wasn?t a big fan of magpies. Once he got up I hammered him again. The solid hit rolled him down into a cut and it appeared to be the end. Nope. After 5 minutes of watching him with his head in the dirt, he tried one last time to rise. Finally at my breaking point, I put two more shots in the lungs and he was down for good. All told, he had 5 shots in his body, 3 center mass, the first hit caught him a half inch above the spine, and the third caught his pelvis. In the end, it wasn?t a textbook harvest. It was very educational for the three of us, and the teamwork paid off with a good buck and a great story. I will probably never take a shot like that again.
(L-r) Jason, Rich, Me and my ?05 Muley
Wednesday and Thursday were spent combing the hills for Elk and a Buck for Rich. It seems every time out we saw bucks, but nothing bigger than what we had. We found the elk, but they were miles off on a near vertical slope, and the group was full of cows and spikes. We needed a 4point bull or better. We did manage to scout up a good 3x3 for Rich on Thursday afternoon. It was cool to sit back and take a bunch of pictures and video of this buck. The buck was easy to identify as his left eye was nearly swollen closed. The rut was really heating up, as we witnessed a smaller buck breed a doe three times not 100 yards from us. I had never seen the deed, and it was strange to actually see a doe stand still and except the advances of a buck. The trip was quickly winding down, and the weather was never coming.
The happy humper
Friday
Jason went to look for elk and Rich and I returned for the 3x3. As the sun came up we quickly found him and his does. We were pinned down by a smaller group of does, and the 3x3?s attention was diverted by a small 4x3 trying to sneak a sniff of the girls. We were able to get the wind right and maneuver to an edge that provided cover and a good place to rest the steady stix. The first shot at 315 broke the back and the second emptied the bucks? lungs. Our hunt was over and we'd all taken nice bucks. Surely not our biggest, but the stories and experiences were second to none. We finished up the dirty work and snapped some pics.
Thursday night scout of Rich's buck
Friday Morning
Here you can see some off the left eye damage??
A great time was had by all, and the new dreams of next year?s big monsters have already started to fill my head. Thanks for reading??
five_point_buck
C.B.C.S.
With great anticipation of another great Colorado hunt, we loaded up the trucks and hooked up the jeep for the haul East. The thought of our third season tags wrapped around the monstrous racks of rutting Colorado mulies produced electricity that easily drowned out the monotony of city life. Would this be the year? The weather wasn?t kind to the second season, producing 65-degree t-shirt weather. Reports acknowledged the excellent horn growth and green hillsides that lie in wait.
The daydreams quickly were erased at 9 p.m. running through Sacramento. As I caught sight of the rooster tail made of hot sparks trailing our Jeep we veered onto the shoulder. Seems the two years of hard work my brother had put into restoring an old 74 CJ5 to near mint condition had been for not. Speculation that a bearing must have frozen became reality. The back wheel came off, studs and all, and bounced over the truck behind us (My buddy Rich saids it missed him by a few feet). His ghost white look of horror set the tone for the fun that lie ahead. It seems that that wheel and its 33? super swamper bounced right into oncoming traffic, where a pretty SUV T-boned it into space. After a meeting roadside with a CHP officer and a call to a tow company, a plan was organized. Three hours later the tow to friend?s house was complete.
We were east bound and down?again.
By Thursday afternoon, we had put the disaster behind us and pulled into our area. We quickly got everything set-up and went out for a quick scouting effort. It was good to see bucks and does in all the familiar spots. Lots of forkies as wide as their ears with decent forks, a good handful of 3x3?s, and a few 4x4?s in the 22?-24? range. The boys were out sniffin? the ladies, the sage was green and its sweet smell was overpowering.
Friday found us in Meeker for the traditional lunch at the Meeker Hotel. Getting lost in the freakish racks and mounts does wonders for your field judging ability. Nonetheless, we had a good lunch and told lies about the years past and discussed the plan of attack for the impending opener. There was a bite to the air, and the forecast called for the magical white stuff.
Opening day
The opener greeted us with a dusting of powder, and it appeared that the greatest hunt we would ever know was set to play out before us. The fresh powder almost muted the usual disturbances?. ATV trespassers, hunters that are confused about property boundaries (some of the same guys have been confused about where the property starts and stops for 10 years). Nonetheless, we spied a decent 4x4 and many does. Life was good. A call on the radio brought good news, Jerry had dropped a cow elk. So, we packed up our stuff, and made our way to lend a hand. It's always good to get something on the hook on day one. We were off and rolling.
Sunday
The morning hunt was slow; temps were in the 40?s and rising. We saw a few new bucks but nothing worth punching a tag on day two. By afternoon the weather was in the high 50?s and low 60?s. WTF?. It's the second week of November? Where?s the white out storms, where is the cold weather that freezes the snot in your nose?
Another revelation was made. In years past, the ranch fields would be teaming with small groups of does in the morning and evening. Typically, animals would feed during the night and then filter off into the public expanses to do what deer do all day long. Then they would filter back at the end of shooting light. Sometimes you got lucky and could intercept one coming or going to and from. Not this year. It seems that the amount of forage and cover, a direct result of another easy winter and wet spring and summer had created some conditions like nothing we had ever seen. It was like hunting something brand new. No longer would the old haunts and stale strategies produce, we had to rethink the operation. It was a refreshing challenge that we gratefully accepted.
At the end of the morning hunt, the radio cracked again. It was another hunting partner, Terry. He had connected on a nice 4x4 with really good eye guards. It was Terry?s second buck of his young hunting career and he was thrilled. So, off we went to help with the chores. Two animals on the hook, Good times.
Monday
Monday afternoon, my Brother and I settled into an old favorite spot in between two flats that were book-ended by two ravines. We settled in behind the spotter with good views of a few draws and a saddle or two. As the end of the day drew near, the deer began to emerge. We went mobile and side hilled from corner to corner, playing the wind, and picking apart a lot of country. All at once, a good 4x4 crested the flat from down below. The buck was consumed by the two sweeties he trailed. We got good glass on him at 375. My brother Jason thought it was a little beyond the range he was comfortable with. We had time and were in a great spot, so we watched. It was cool to be able to get the spotter on him and get a real good handle on what we were looking at. He was a good 4x4 with good forks and eye guards. He would be the biggest buck Jason had ever killed, and he was the biggest buck we had seen so far on the trip. Suddenly the does had it in their mind that they needed some space, so the worked right at us. As they closed to under 100 yards, the buck, who for the last few minutes was side tracked and fixated on another group of does, decided he just couldn't bare to be with out these does. He half galloped in to remake his acquaintance.
Well, the speed and enthusiasm in which he approached scared the pellets out of the girls and off they went. In an instant, we went from having a good 4x4 dead to rights to having three deer running to an upwind draw to our left. Crap-ola.
We dropped our gear, grabbed the rifles and sticks and quickly side-hilled through the PJ?s trying to get an angle. I had seen deer move up this cut before, and had a good idea where he was headed. As we broke out of the junipers, we caught him at 200 yards in the middle of some dead cedars. The advantage was all his. This buck had our wind, he could see us, and he had two options; break right into a maze of tangled junipers and finger draws, or follow his gals left into another draw. Luckily he drew left and picked his ways towards the ladies. As he reached the cover of the cedars, he stopped to look back. When he stopped I called ?Take him? and I heard the beautiful sound of the .270 report, then the ?Twomp? of a good hit. The buck hit the deck with a cloud of dust. Instantly he got up and bolted. With the chaos of unseen does erupting it was hard to follow where he went. Jason and I got together to talk about the shot. He prides himself on being his departments ?skeet champion? and has always been a good shot. I felt good when the first words he said were ?I had a good steady rest on the sticks and had a good quartering shot as he stopped, when I caught that last rib in line with the front leg, I let loose and he went down?. If that wasn?t a ringing endorsement for one dead deer I don't know what could be. We followed up the shot and found absolutely no blood. Grrreeeeaat. After a few circles and countless reenactments we decided to split as light was fading fast. I left to get the truck and pick up Rich. Nearly 30 minutes later I returned with Rich and the truck. The first words I heard were ?bring me my backpack I need my head lamp?. Silently I thought, ?We?re screwed?. As I walked over I caught a glimpse of fur on the ground, then a leg, then a big smile on Jason?s face. The bullet had lodged deep in the chest, but never exited. The buck ran over a small hill and died on the backside. Somehow he managed to see the white horns in near pitch-black conditions. Pictures and high fives followed. At the end of day we had three animals on the hook?.. Life was good.
(l-r) Larry, Jason, & Rich w/ Jason?s 4x4
Tuesday
Tuesday morning rolled around quickly, and the three of us decided to walk into a spot with a good vantage of the large valley that is fed by many fingers, nooks, and crannies. In years past, it's been a good doe hangout. With the pre-rut heating up we figured it was worth the walk. As we got into position, I pulled up my binoculars and my first focus locked onto a nice 4x4 raking some saplings at 280 yards. We quickly assembled the spotter and got eyes on him. He wasn?t real wide, he wasn?t real heavy, and he wasn?t even really tall. I offered the right of first refusal to Rich. He hesitated. Then the light bulb went off in my head. Times like these are few and far between. Rarely are the three of us together looking at a mature buck, holding a tag, on a great trip. Could there be a better scenario for filling my tag? After all, I had burned my last two tags waiting on a monster. This year I had an elk tag so at least my hunt wouldn't be finished. What the heck! Little did we know, two does were right below us and didn't like our presence. I quickly got into a rock solid prone position with my pack making a super solid rest. I felt good. The alerted deer casually trotted out to 325. They crossed the river and as they came up the far bank I let the first one go. We thought the shot was good, but the group of deer headed for a draw. There was some confusion about the range of the second shot, but it was clearly a hit. Instead of going down, off the buck went. Luckily I had a commanding view. The buck got to a open spot and I lined him up again. TWOMP. Three shots, two hits. The buck then ambled off to lie down under a juniper. We high-fived and waited for his head to drop.
Houston, we have a problem.
Shot (1) was at 400 yards, (2) 525, (3) 630. I have never ever wanted to shoot that far, and was half sick that I wasn?t deadly at 400. I was in a bad spot now. I had a buck bedded at 650yards with two shots in him. I had one route to get closer, but the entire path would be in plain sight of him. While we debated and schemed, we kept close tabs on him in the spotter. He rose again and I put one more out there, a miss. He managed to go another 50 yards, obviously very hurt. Once again he laid down. This time in a spot that I could sneak on. I quickly moved out and cut the distance to 378. All the while, some guys about a half-mile off were serving up a serious volley of shots. I think the sounds of gunfire forced my buck to hold tight. I got to my spot as Rich looked for a river crossing. 15 minutes had passed before he tried to get up again. A magpie had landed on his back and he wasn?t a big fan of magpies. Once he got up I hammered him again. The solid hit rolled him down into a cut and it appeared to be the end. Nope. After 5 minutes of watching him with his head in the dirt, he tried one last time to rise. Finally at my breaking point, I put two more shots in the lungs and he was down for good. All told, he had 5 shots in his body, 3 center mass, the first hit caught him a half inch above the spine, and the third caught his pelvis. In the end, it wasn?t a textbook harvest. It was very educational for the three of us, and the teamwork paid off with a good buck and a great story. I will probably never take a shot like that again.
(L-r) Jason, Rich, Me and my ?05 Muley
Wednesday and Thursday were spent combing the hills for Elk and a Buck for Rich. It seems every time out we saw bucks, but nothing bigger than what we had. We found the elk, but they were miles off on a near vertical slope, and the group was full of cows and spikes. We needed a 4point bull or better. We did manage to scout up a good 3x3 for Rich on Thursday afternoon. It was cool to sit back and take a bunch of pictures and video of this buck. The buck was easy to identify as his left eye was nearly swollen closed. The rut was really heating up, as we witnessed a smaller buck breed a doe three times not 100 yards from us. I had never seen the deed, and it was strange to actually see a doe stand still and except the advances of a buck. The trip was quickly winding down, and the weather was never coming.
The happy humper
Friday
Jason went to look for elk and Rich and I returned for the 3x3. As the sun came up we quickly found him and his does. We were pinned down by a smaller group of does, and the 3x3?s attention was diverted by a small 4x3 trying to sneak a sniff of the girls. We were able to get the wind right and maneuver to an edge that provided cover and a good place to rest the steady stix. The first shot at 315 broke the back and the second emptied the bucks? lungs. Our hunt was over and we'd all taken nice bucks. Surely not our biggest, but the stories and experiences were second to none. We finished up the dirty work and snapped some pics.
Thursday night scout of Rich's buck
Friday Morning
Here you can see some off the left eye damage??
A great time was had by all, and the new dreams of next year?s big monsters have already started to fill my head. Thanks for reading??
five_point_buck
C.B.C.S.
