Wide Drexler And The Pine Marten That Stole My Heart

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For about 3 years now, I have been on a hellbent mission to locate and hunt alpine bucks in my favorite CO unit. This unit is not known for deer hunting at all, but it is utterly beautiful, has opportunities to get away from people, and has wildlife in spades.

Life and mother nature have kept me from hunting the tag until this year, when I was able to both draw the muzzleloader buck tag, but also take a couple days off from work to put together a backpack hunt that was planned to be Friday night through Tuesday. Instead, I came home yesterday with a full cooler and a shit eaten grin on my face the whole drive.

I have some decent photos from the past 2 years, so this may take a few posts.

 

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When I began scouting the area, I was looking for elk. And sweet jesus did I find elk. The problem is, like much of CO, there is a shitload of horrid beetle-killed blown down timber in the zone between the lower reaches of the unit and the alpine. When I started early season scouting (end of June or so), I could always locate tons of elk in the alpine, but by hunting season, they would be in the timber and much more difficult to locate, much less get in on.

2 years ago, I hunted a 2nd season bull tag there, and also had a doe tag in my pocket. While my brother and I came close, we couldn't close the deal on a bull, but I did take a doe on the last day. The following is a series of photos from my 3 years of exploring the unit. I will pick up the story when I first actually located bucks in the alpine, which took me over a year to do, partly because I suck(ed) at this, but also because as I mentioned, this area is really not known for its deer population.

 

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This scouting trip, around June 22nd 2 years ago, turned up a couple hundred elk but no deer. This bull is to date the biggest I've ever seen not in a National Park. He already had 6 on his left in June and an irregular V/club on his right.

 

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Last year, on a fishing trip with my wife in a new part of the unit for me, I saw the first buck I'd ever seen in the area. Of course, it had 0 to do with my own glassing or scouting diligence, but instead walked right by our tent at dusk.

 

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The next scouting trip yielded a couple does and by far my coolest ever backcountry find. Carrying this thing out 11 miles was a real pain in the ass, but it is currently mounted in my living room. I still had not seen any bucks in an area I hoped to hunt, but I felt like I was getting close. The country looked right, and I started seeing far more deer sign than I had in previous areas.

 

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More exploring...more great looking country....still no bucks

 

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On my next trip, last year, my buddy from Gunnison joined me. We hiked into a new lake for me, off-trail, that I had seen from afar and looked good on a map. Getting to camp at dark and in a hail storm, my expectations had been tempered from a few dozen days of wonderful but buck-less backpacking.

The next morning, as we sat down on a nearby knob at first light, we casually looked up from our tripods to see...bucks!!! No more than 300 yards away, a bachelor group was feeding up a grassy slope at 11,600 feet. I was blown away. Watching that group and observing their incredibly tight pattern in an area no greater than a square half mile over the next two days was incredibly educational and hugely rewarding after so much searching.

 

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A particular highlight was watching the group run into a calf moose. Both seemed very unsure of the other.

 

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In this group we're a couple smaller bucks, a young doe, a deep and tall 3x3, a 4x3 with a heavily bladed left back tine, and a 4x4. For several reasons, I believe the 4x4 in these photos is the one I ended up taking this year. The 4x3 with the bladed tine will also make a reappearance shortly.

 

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That years hunting season was great, but unfortunately that particular hunt fell through for reasons I won't get into. Fast forward to this year...a few gear upgrades...a solid starting point of where to focus my scouting, and the tag again in my pocket, I was feeling good.

I set a trail cam early in the year in the same spot I had seen the bucks, with no plans to check it until August. I still covered my bases and continued to explore more of the mountain range. I saw lots more elk, I watched a badger/golden eagle get in a tussle, and an awesome old pot bellied buck right on the unit border. None of what I saw however, was enough to deter or distract me from the spot I had found the year prior where my trail cam was set.

 

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The last weekend in August, my wife joined me on what would be my last scouting trip before the hunt. I decided to relocate a bit further away from the hot spot across the basin to both get a different angle on the slope, and also not risk disturbing the deer.

In all on that trip, we saw 2 forkies, 2 3x3s, a few does, and what immediately became the focus of my attention and lustful thoughts, a large 4x4 that dwarfed his companions in both antler and body size. While looking through the spotter at him, my wife, who has not hunted, said things unprompted in awe like "deep forks" and "mass". Needless to say, I had never been more attracted to her.

 

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On that trip, I also had 3 young rams join me on my glassing knob, and the last morning we were there, a herd of elk pushed the deer up to the alpine lake above them. I used this opportunity to snag my trail cam, and I couldn't have been happier with the results.

 

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Also on the trail cam, was the biggest deer I have ever gotten on a trail camera, which I believe to be the bladed 4x3 from the year before, whose rack really went nuts this year. The only photo of him was from the first week of August and I haven't seen him with my own eyes this year. Very cool to see regardless.

 

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Alright here we go. My buddy from Grand Junction decided last minute to join me on what was planned to be a solo hunt. I was happy to have the help, the company, and especially another set of eyes behind glass. We hiked in 7 miles on Friday night to our camp, and just before we got there, picked up eye shine in a meadow at the bottom of the basin below our camp destination. Bucks! Having attended a wedding in Arkansas over Labor Day weekend, I was thrilled to see they were still in the area 2 weeks later. We looped around to avoid getting any closer to them than we already were, and got to camp around 9:30.

I woke up early the morning of opening day, and couldn't have been more excited that the day was finally here...after 3 years of anticipation. Glassing that morning, we watched a fork and a young 3x3 feed up the same slopes, along with a few does. We also got distracted by a beautiful 5x6 bull in the cliffs nearby pushing a small group of cows and letting off an occasional bugle.

All of a sudden, at 7:30, the 4x4 emerged from the timber with a decent 3x3 in tow. My buddy immediately exclaimed "holy shit thats a nice buck....he's so wide". A couple minutes of adrenaline fueled whispered riffing of untold stupidity, and he became Wide Drexeler, the apple of our eyes.

We watched him feed for the next hour as I was determined to be patient, not be stupid and rush anything on opening day, and stick to the plan of waiting until he bedded in an advantageous position.

The pair finally bedded around 9:30, but in a patch of timber that we could not see into, despite us hiking up and around the basin and gaining a couple hundred more feet in an effort to gain a better angle. Unsure, but still patient, we returned to our original position by around 12:30 or so. At 1:45, the 3x3, then 4x4 emerged from the timber, eagerly feeding and zig zagging vaguely uphill for the next 45 minutes or so.

At 2:30, the 3x3 disappeared into a patch of brush, and we watched the 4x4 paw at the ground twice, then lay down, with his body but not head visible, on the edge of that same brush, and in a small stand of maybe 5-10 standing dead spruces.

It was time for a stalk.

 

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I repacked my pack, taking out all but the essentials, chugged some water, and headed down from our knob to cross the basin. The wind was blowing from the NW, and we were looking at the bucks from the S. My plan was to cross the basin E of him, head up the slope in a gravelly ravine, go past/north of him, then loop back towards up from the NE. The wind wasn't perfect, but I hoped it would be a careful enough approach that I could get close.

It took me about 30 minutes to get about 300 yards above and to the NE of him. I tried my best to control my breathing as I came up into the zone, knowing that I could potentially jump another buck, or run into him moving. My buddy had set a game bag on a rock across the basin to symbolize that he was still bedded. I continually checked back through my binos to ensure that he hadn't pulled it. He hadn't.

There was a small rise on the slope with a couple patches of spruces and junipers on it between me and the buck. I kept it between us as I closed the distance. Checking the wind along the way, it was holding in the same pattern, but every 30 seconds or so, there would be a 20-30 mph gust that would swirl in the eddies of the terrain. This was very worrying, as I knew that it was only a matter of time before at least some of my scent would find its way to the buck.

I got to the top of the rise. 100 yards. I could see the marker standing dead trees where he was bedded at the base of, but not him, my view was blocked by the live spruces directly in front and a bit downhill of me. In another situation, I would have waited here for him to eventually get up and feed, but with the wind swirling, I decided to be aggressive. At this exact point, my buddy with the spotter recounted to me that he began to more frequently lick his nose, indicating perhaps that he was becoming vaguely aware of something he was unsure of.

I dropped my pack and slowly crept down to the spruced and junipers in front of me, targeting a small gap that I hoped would be enough to get a look through. The next 40 yards were closed extremely slowly and carefully, as I was definitely within earshot of him and still wearing my boots. I perhaps should have taken them off, but I didn't want to waste the time, as I could feel the wind continuing to swirl...I knew the clock was ticking.

 

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This next bit all took place within about 2 minutes.

When I finally got to the gap, I had doubts that I could shoot through it. However, I was able to look through it with my binos and see the top half of his antlers above some dead branches. 54 yards. I saw the antlers turn at least twice, he was definitely getting unsettled. Within a minute or two of getting to the gap, he stood up. Although this was of course the plan, it came sooner than I had hoped. I lifted the gun for a free hand shot through the gap as his body was in full view. The wind, combined with my carefully tip toed stance in junipers, resulted in a very wobbly sight picture. I could have forced the shot, but I really didn't feel good about it.

He stepped to the right, and behind a dead tree and branches covering his body. I removed my face from the sight, looked past it and dropped the gun into a crotch of a branch and stepped loudly forward though the juniper. He took one more step into a smaller gap with his front half showing. I fired.

The white plume of smoke covered my view for a half second, and when it cleared I saw that he had wheeled to the left, wobbled, and took two limping steps. I knew it was a hit, but did not see an exit wound. He stepped behind more trees maybe 10 more feet and I lost him from view. I scrambled to reload the muzzleloader. The adrenaline was really pumping here, and I didn't reload as swiftly or smoothly as I would have liked. Before putting the jag on the ramrod, I quickly glassed through the gap to see antlers fall, but out of view. I knew he had fallen, but had no clue if he had gotten up or continued downhill. I stuffed the bullet down, and busted through the brush to run across the meadow to where I had seen him disappear.

As soon as I saw him, I sat down in shock and stared.

 

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I truly enjoyed the next 30 minutes that I had to myself while my buddy hiked over. Reflecting on the process it took to get here, which I should mention...it is my first buck...enjoying the scenery, and just staring in awe.

After the field dressing, my friend and I decided to hike him 1.5 miles down the hill to near a trail to save ourselves that distance with the weight of our camps AND the meat. It was around dark when we got to our destination. And thus begins my major #*^@#* up.

I hung the 4 quarters in a half fallen tree, but..the bonus bag was full of the backstraps, neck roasts, some brisket and flank steak, some other trim, and the heart. Concerned about the not-so-cold night, I had cut all the quarters to the bone to release heat. In a similar vein of thinking, I considered that the bonus bag was a heavily compressed ball of meat, the center of which would not get good airflow.

So, I draped the bag over a couple of branches rather than hang it with paracord, almost like on a little branch platform. Idiot.

 

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We hiked back, got hailed on, slept, woke up to more rain, and hiked down to the meat tree. As I approached, I saw the meat still hanging. "Great!" I thought.

After another couple steps, I saw movement. A pine marten was running down the tree carrying a neck roast trim piece that was nearly as long as he was. I began to run, and spear chucked my hiking pole at him, at which he dropped the chunk.

Upon examination... he ate/took one tenderloin, ate half a backstrap and shit on the part he didn't eat, and dragged a large neck roast through the dirt, and most devastatingly, stole the heart, which is my favorite table fare.

This was a very hard lesson learned. As we packed up, he circle back through, showing no fear of us and eager to pick up the scraps that i had just trimmed off from his damage.

The hike out was heavy and uneventful. My pack coming in with the gun and minus my bin harness was 47 lbs, and my guess is I had 40 lbs of meat between 2 quarters, the now lighter bonus bag, and the skull. Subtract the food I ate and it was probably around 80-85 lbs for 5.5 miles.

 

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This was by far the most memorable and rewarding hunt I've ever been on, and I couldn't be happier with the result. I am also now considering quitting my day job as a teacher and becoming a full time pine marten trapper. But seriously, I have no one to blame but myself for that one, and it is a mistake I will not repeat.

Miscellaneous:
I was shooting a CVA Wolf with 95 grains by volume of Blackhorn 209 and a 250 grain Thor bullet.