Mustangs Rule
Well-known member
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2021
- Messages
- 757
Big Buck’s Basin
The most incredible wildlife sound I ever heard in my life was in Big Buck’s Basin.
Off and on during the summer before this fall hunt, I had been sitting on one side of a huge canyon with my spotting scope and observing both elk and deer in a bowl-shaped basin on the other side.
It looked like it might be a hideout where deer and elk went when hunting season began. Getting there was formidable. This country was STEEP, cut up with deep side canyons, and everywhere the eye could see, there were straight up vertical cliffs from 30 to 100 plus feet high. And they were stacked on each other with mixed open plateaus that were covered with wild grasses.
The cliffs were endless basalt columns formed when lava was cooling after a volcano erupted, at least 6 million years ago. All this and other canyons were a remote hot spot from the far away Yellowstone Caldera and its Super-volcano.
The only way that access seemed possible began by crossing a real river, that was at it’s low point in late fall, but still formidable, with fast currents and deep pools of cold snow melt water. Then there was a rugged cliff to climb, which while not in the reckless zone, still offered a serious fall for a fool, and was covered with the sneaky-est little cactus hidden in dried grass. Plus this entire cliff was an apartment house for rattlesnakes both large and small.
I decided to explore this country during upland bird season. For crossing the river I wore LL Bean light rubber canoe shoes, and then cut the legs of an old wet suit at an angle high on my hips for attachment. Next just in case I took a fall and plunge I put on a light dive vest to keep my core warm, and across I went with a vintage Ithaca model 37 in 20 gauge with a modified choke and a sling.
After crossing the river and climbing the cliff, the options were hiking up small canyons, choosing one after another that became impossible to hike further.
I found one small canyon that took me into a lower part of the basin for all the deer to see. Head after head with big ears all on alert were watching me from every direction.
Well, that would not work, so I climbed this mountain/super big hill all covered with dry slick grass, was dangerous too. Lucky, I brought sling a super walking stick with a spike in the bottom. I followed new elk trails on old cattle trails. When I got to the top, this point had command of the entire basin.
This was the place I needed to be during hunting season, well before first light with the thermals dropping.
I got out my range finder and a note pad and pen. I made a simple map with the basic landmarks and marked down all the distances to each point of reference.
Next, I took some brush and made a small blind.
I backed down to a major trail and counted my paces to it, and left a big rock right in the trail.
From the top I had seen some green bushes next to a tiny year-round creek that was running along the bottom of a wall of more basalt columns.
There was a game trail along the edge, and I walked along throwing some rocks into the bushes hoping to flush some mountain quail.
What I did flush were the two largest mule deer I had ever seen in my life. Looking down at them being so close, I saw how big and muscular their shoulders, back and rump were. Their racks were other-worldly. The shot would have been easy for me.
They started trotting then running on a hard packed rocky trail. The sound of their big hooves with blunt tips were like big “Clunks” not clicks, the sound made be smaller deer. Their hoof beats bounced off of the wall which seemed to amplify the noise.
I could hear their gates shift. Finally, they came to big hill and began that up and down “pronk gait”. They seemed like master acrobats they went so high.
I dropped down to the trail they used and measured their huge tracks. Just amazing.
Then I went into the brush where they flushed from and saw why they we there, the plant fillaree. It double the sugar of sweet clover and double the protein of alfalfa.
I have learned to center my hunts around the favorite plants of game animals, and fillaree is the all-time favorite.
Walking around I saw the entire meadow was covered in it. This basin was a deer gold mine. Seeing no name for it on the map, I named it Big Buck’s Basin.
Then I paid attention to how I could get to that hilltop in the dark, and how to deal with meat recovery, which would not be that hard.
Walking down hill there was a natural chute, all dry grass lined and slick, with only one rough place. This chute opened right up to a shady tree near the river.
That tree became my marker for my night hike up to the high mound after I crossed the river
Walking back right where that rocky cliff was, I saw a small rattler. I do not kill them unless they came around my house.
I was very careful climbing down the rocky cliff to the river.
Prior to my hunt I made two decisions.
Rattlesnakes are very active before hibernation. With the rocky ledge where my hands would be grabbing in the dark, with all the thick dry grass. I decided not to hunt until three cold nights and days had passed.
In the meantime every few days I would go to the other side of the canyon with my spotting scope. I always saw deer, always saw bucks. Sometimes I saw the two stags of legend. And here comes my second decision. These two great animals were a genetic treasure for the deer herd. I have always felt that this quest for the best by too many hunters was in poor ecological taste.
I would not shoot either of these great bucks. Even if it meant not filling my tag. Their meat will never equal a young buck. And I was then 73 years old and as is my preference a Lone Hunter. Handling a buck of the size was for times gone by.
The weather stayed hot. Big Buck’s Basin was filling up with deer avoiding the hunters when the season opened. The cold came about five days before the end of the season. That left me two days to hunt.
I did everything as planned save for a little cactus in my hand climbing the rocky cliff. I got to the high mound well below first light. I could begin to see lots of deer and wanted to watch them for a bit but chose not to. Then, I was a hunter not a nature lover. Thing can change in a heartbeat.
For the river crossings I left my blued and walnut rifles at home. Instead, I took my Sako Finnlight stainless synthetic carbine in 308.
It has a humble 2-7 power Leopold Ultralight scope I had set at 2x.
I shot a 3 X 3 in the big patch of filleree at 80 yards. I dragged him down to the tree by the river, gutted and skinned, and quartered him and put the quarters in the cold river tied to rocks.
I went downriver to my crossing and brought my truck up. Discreetly I loaded the quarters in my truck. Big Buck’s Basin was under a half mile from the USFS gravel road that so many hunters were driving by on towing tailors with quads.
This was my last hunt. Covid came, I got it. Then both knees needed replacement. I did one, and not ready to do the other yet.
During these non-hunting years, I have often driven down to my Big Bucks Basin overlook during the deer season. I have seen no signs of other hunters ever but have seen lots of fine bucks.
This fall at 77 I plan to hunt again, by myself of course. Maybe I will shoot a little light spike buck.
I think I might sit by the riverbank, take off my leggings and soak both legs and knees in the cold water.
Happy Trails
Mustangs Rule
The most incredible wildlife sound I ever heard in my life was in Big Buck’s Basin.
Off and on during the summer before this fall hunt, I had been sitting on one side of a huge canyon with my spotting scope and observing both elk and deer in a bowl-shaped basin on the other side.
It looked like it might be a hideout where deer and elk went when hunting season began. Getting there was formidable. This country was STEEP, cut up with deep side canyons, and everywhere the eye could see, there were straight up vertical cliffs from 30 to 100 plus feet high. And they were stacked on each other with mixed open plateaus that were covered with wild grasses.
The cliffs were endless basalt columns formed when lava was cooling after a volcano erupted, at least 6 million years ago. All this and other canyons were a remote hot spot from the far away Yellowstone Caldera and its Super-volcano.
The only way that access seemed possible began by crossing a real river, that was at it’s low point in late fall, but still formidable, with fast currents and deep pools of cold snow melt water. Then there was a rugged cliff to climb, which while not in the reckless zone, still offered a serious fall for a fool, and was covered with the sneaky-est little cactus hidden in dried grass. Plus this entire cliff was an apartment house for rattlesnakes both large and small.
I decided to explore this country during upland bird season. For crossing the river I wore LL Bean light rubber canoe shoes, and then cut the legs of an old wet suit at an angle high on my hips for attachment. Next just in case I took a fall and plunge I put on a light dive vest to keep my core warm, and across I went with a vintage Ithaca model 37 in 20 gauge with a modified choke and a sling.
After crossing the river and climbing the cliff, the options were hiking up small canyons, choosing one after another that became impossible to hike further.
I found one small canyon that took me into a lower part of the basin for all the deer to see. Head after head with big ears all on alert were watching me from every direction.
Well, that would not work, so I climbed this mountain/super big hill all covered with dry slick grass, was dangerous too. Lucky, I brought sling a super walking stick with a spike in the bottom. I followed new elk trails on old cattle trails. When I got to the top, this point had command of the entire basin.
This was the place I needed to be during hunting season, well before first light with the thermals dropping.
I got out my range finder and a note pad and pen. I made a simple map with the basic landmarks and marked down all the distances to each point of reference.
Next, I took some brush and made a small blind.
I backed down to a major trail and counted my paces to it, and left a big rock right in the trail.
From the top I had seen some green bushes next to a tiny year-round creek that was running along the bottom of a wall of more basalt columns.
There was a game trail along the edge, and I walked along throwing some rocks into the bushes hoping to flush some mountain quail.
What I did flush were the two largest mule deer I had ever seen in my life. Looking down at them being so close, I saw how big and muscular their shoulders, back and rump were. Their racks were other-worldly. The shot would have been easy for me.
They started trotting then running on a hard packed rocky trail. The sound of their big hooves with blunt tips were like big “Clunks” not clicks, the sound made be smaller deer. Their hoof beats bounced off of the wall which seemed to amplify the noise.
I could hear their gates shift. Finally, they came to big hill and began that up and down “pronk gait”. They seemed like master acrobats they went so high.
I dropped down to the trail they used and measured their huge tracks. Just amazing.
Then I went into the brush where they flushed from and saw why they we there, the plant fillaree. It double the sugar of sweet clover and double the protein of alfalfa.
I have learned to center my hunts around the favorite plants of game animals, and fillaree is the all-time favorite.
Walking around I saw the entire meadow was covered in it. This basin was a deer gold mine. Seeing no name for it on the map, I named it Big Buck’s Basin.
Then I paid attention to how I could get to that hilltop in the dark, and how to deal with meat recovery, which would not be that hard.
Walking down hill there was a natural chute, all dry grass lined and slick, with only one rough place. This chute opened right up to a shady tree near the river.
That tree became my marker for my night hike up to the high mound after I crossed the river
Walking back right where that rocky cliff was, I saw a small rattler. I do not kill them unless they came around my house.
I was very careful climbing down the rocky cliff to the river.
Prior to my hunt I made two decisions.
Rattlesnakes are very active before hibernation. With the rocky ledge where my hands would be grabbing in the dark, with all the thick dry grass. I decided not to hunt until three cold nights and days had passed.
In the meantime every few days I would go to the other side of the canyon with my spotting scope. I always saw deer, always saw bucks. Sometimes I saw the two stags of legend. And here comes my second decision. These two great animals were a genetic treasure for the deer herd. I have always felt that this quest for the best by too many hunters was in poor ecological taste.
I would not shoot either of these great bucks. Even if it meant not filling my tag. Their meat will never equal a young buck. And I was then 73 years old and as is my preference a Lone Hunter. Handling a buck of the size was for times gone by.
The weather stayed hot. Big Buck’s Basin was filling up with deer avoiding the hunters when the season opened. The cold came about five days before the end of the season. That left me two days to hunt.
I did everything as planned save for a little cactus in my hand climbing the rocky cliff. I got to the high mound well below first light. I could begin to see lots of deer and wanted to watch them for a bit but chose not to. Then, I was a hunter not a nature lover. Thing can change in a heartbeat.
For the river crossings I left my blued and walnut rifles at home. Instead, I took my Sako Finnlight stainless synthetic carbine in 308.
It has a humble 2-7 power Leopold Ultralight scope I had set at 2x.
I shot a 3 X 3 in the big patch of filleree at 80 yards. I dragged him down to the tree by the river, gutted and skinned, and quartered him and put the quarters in the cold river tied to rocks.
I went downriver to my crossing and brought my truck up. Discreetly I loaded the quarters in my truck. Big Buck’s Basin was under a half mile from the USFS gravel road that so many hunters were driving by on towing tailors with quads.
This was my last hunt. Covid came, I got it. Then both knees needed replacement. I did one, and not ready to do the other yet.
During these non-hunting years, I have often driven down to my Big Bucks Basin overlook during the deer season. I have seen no signs of other hunters ever but have seen lots of fine bucks.
This fall at 77 I plan to hunt again, by myself of course. Maybe I will shoot a little light spike buck.
I think I might sit by the riverbank, take off my leggings and soak both legs and knees in the cold water.
Happy Trails
Mustangs Rule
