dwhite0622
Member
I have been telling myself for a few years that I would commit to finding a mature mule deer and dedicate my entire rifle season to the pursuit regardless of whether i still had an elk tag in my pocket. I decided last spring that this would be the year of the deer. I was fortunate enough to fill my elk and antelope tags early in the season, so by the time rifle opened i truly had no distractions to keep me from chasing muleys.
I had a few spots picked out and after a few days of scouting and spending hours behind the glass, I managed to find a buck that I thought was a mature deer and a great representation of a mountain muley. In true mule deer form, i spotted him in the worst spot imaginable. He was living in an avalanche chute amongst a series of high country basins with limited access points...... in a burn area (of course he was). I watched him for almost two weeks, spotting him 5 different times all within a few hundred yards of where I saw him first. I spent hours looking for a better route into his living room. As much as i was hoping google earth would reveal a secret stairway, my searches proved that the only way to him was straight down 2,000 ft through deadfall and scrub brush, and back up another 2200 ft through the same terrain to where I had been watching this deer for the last two weeks.
After 2 weeks of being completely consumed by this deer and spending entirely too many hours a day thinking about how to get to him I finally decided to give it a go. I left the truck 45 minutes before daylight and hiked halfway down the opposite side of the canyon from where he was. I spotted him right at first light working his way up from the bottom into his home in the avalanche chute. I knew that the wind should have been in my favor once i started making my way up to him but to play it safe, I made my way up the adjacent basin with plans of meeting him close to the top of the mountain and keeping the wind in my favor. Things went bad 3/4 of the way up the mountain when i heard some movement to my side and immediately realized I was busted as I made eye contact with the biggest buck I have ever seen. He was less than a hundred yards away standing out of his bed and shaking the nights snow off of his back. I was shocked by the sheer size of this buck and just stared at him for what felt like an eternity. He was well outside of his ears and his 4 point frame was hard to discern between all the extra points and stickers sported on both sides. Despite being within one hundred yards, he never presented a shot and trotted up over the ridge and out of my life. Although he wasnt the buck I was after, I couldnt help but feel disappointed with his departure.
I spent the rest of the morning moving slowly and glassing the high country. The buck I was up there to find was nowhere to be seen, neither was his bigger, more mystical brother. Feeling defeated and sorry for myself, I decided to have my pro bar lunch before making the trek back to the truck. As i stood up to put my pack back on I noticed a deer on the other side of the basin milling along the bottom. As I watched this small buck through the binoculars, i noticed a flicker of movement above him. It took a minute to believe it, but there, bedded in the downfall and brush, on the side of a steep hill was the buck I had been watching for the last two weeks. He must have caught my movement because he was nervous. I could tell he was about to move, so I got ready for a shot. He stood out of his ned and starting trotting uphill. I was just hoping that he would stop and look back at me, as so many muleys have done in the past. He must have read the script, because he obliged me with a perfect broadside shot in the only clear lane in his path. I touched off a shot and watched him donkey kick then tear down the hill. I could hear him crashing through the trees and then rolling down the hill until he came to a stop a couple hundred yards below where he was standing. I sat there behind my rifle completely surprised by the events of the last 90 seconds trying to determine if I had actually just killed the deer, or I had snoozed off on the mountain. I made my way over to him and confirmed that I had indeed sealed the deal on my mountain muley.
I had a few spots picked out and after a few days of scouting and spending hours behind the glass, I managed to find a buck that I thought was a mature deer and a great representation of a mountain muley. In true mule deer form, i spotted him in the worst spot imaginable. He was living in an avalanche chute amongst a series of high country basins with limited access points...... in a burn area (of course he was). I watched him for almost two weeks, spotting him 5 different times all within a few hundred yards of where I saw him first. I spent hours looking for a better route into his living room. As much as i was hoping google earth would reveal a secret stairway, my searches proved that the only way to him was straight down 2,000 ft through deadfall and scrub brush, and back up another 2200 ft through the same terrain to where I had been watching this deer for the last two weeks.
After 2 weeks of being completely consumed by this deer and spending entirely too many hours a day thinking about how to get to him I finally decided to give it a go. I left the truck 45 minutes before daylight and hiked halfway down the opposite side of the canyon from where he was. I spotted him right at first light working his way up from the bottom into his home in the avalanche chute. I knew that the wind should have been in my favor once i started making my way up to him but to play it safe, I made my way up the adjacent basin with plans of meeting him close to the top of the mountain and keeping the wind in my favor. Things went bad 3/4 of the way up the mountain when i heard some movement to my side and immediately realized I was busted as I made eye contact with the biggest buck I have ever seen. He was less than a hundred yards away standing out of his bed and shaking the nights snow off of his back. I was shocked by the sheer size of this buck and just stared at him for what felt like an eternity. He was well outside of his ears and his 4 point frame was hard to discern between all the extra points and stickers sported on both sides. Despite being within one hundred yards, he never presented a shot and trotted up over the ridge and out of my life. Although he wasnt the buck I was after, I couldnt help but feel disappointed with his departure.
I spent the rest of the morning moving slowly and glassing the high country. The buck I was up there to find was nowhere to be seen, neither was his bigger, more mystical brother. Feeling defeated and sorry for myself, I decided to have my pro bar lunch before making the trek back to the truck. As i stood up to put my pack back on I noticed a deer on the other side of the basin milling along the bottom. As I watched this small buck through the binoculars, i noticed a flicker of movement above him. It took a minute to believe it, but there, bedded in the downfall and brush, on the side of a steep hill was the buck I had been watching for the last two weeks. He must have caught my movement because he was nervous. I could tell he was about to move, so I got ready for a shot. He stood out of his ned and starting trotting uphill. I was just hoping that he would stop and look back at me, as so many muleys have done in the past. He must have read the script, because he obliged me with a perfect broadside shot in the only clear lane in his path. I touched off a shot and watched him donkey kick then tear down the hill. I could hear him crashing through the trees and then rolling down the hill until he came to a stop a couple hundred yards below where he was standing. I sat there behind my rifle completely surprised by the events of the last 90 seconds trying to determine if I had actually just killed the deer, or I had snoozed off on the mountain. I made my way over to him and confirmed that I had indeed sealed the deal on my mountain muley.
