Wyoming adventures, Volume 3 kansasdad and kansasson do the Bighorns

[kansasdad]

Almost as soon as Aaron and I returned from our 2021 Wyoming adventure, we began to hope for a return visit. We first went in 2020, after the COVID shutdown had lifted and the crusty Wyoming rancher family/family friends weren't taking the pandemic seriously.

kansasdad and kansasson Wyoming adventure observations......

Somewhat random observations from our Wyoming adventure Covid precautions vary widely from city and state guidances. Wyoming ranchers aren’t really worried about no stinkin’ virus. Excitement for a successful random draw can be rapidly quashed when your son whiffs on his draw. My 10 a.m...

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In 2021 we went again, joined by BIL Ben, nephew Nathan and SIL Jeremy to the southwest end of the Bighorns of Wyoming. Ben got his first archery deer when he connected on a mule deer.



We also carved out time to visit the 1930's era dugout cabin in the badlands that my grandparents and father lived in while proving up on their Homestead Act claim.



For 2022 kansasson and I both put in for antelope doe/fawn with even fewer tags available than the last two years, and struck out. Entering into the leftover draws, we were both successful for whitetail doe tags. I had endeavored to get other family members excited about going, but as often happens those "maybe's" turned into "I wish I could", and finally firm "nope's" regarding 2022. Maybe we will get a larger crew in upcoming years.

Food prep,


car prep and finally wheels up for Wyoming from Wichita on the Saturday of Labor Day weekend. The forecast was most un-deer like, with the predicted and experienced highs were the mid 90's all week until a front was to come down bringing much needed cooling and chances of rain.

We made it to the front range of Colorado, and spent the night with my sister, breaking up the 1100 mile drive in half. The car's thermometer told the story of what was to come: HOT and not very deer friendly.



Crisis averted in Casper Walmart parking lot when the archery and conservation stamps were almost left in the shopping cart!


Arriving at cousin Perry's cabin, we were greeted by a covey of sage grouse down at the trough. Safe from hunting, they know where they have it good.

 

[kansasdad]

For the first night's hunt we decided to get hiking to a spot I thought would be a good possibility that we might find some whitetails on public land. A large section of State land touched the "highway" and a walk of just over 1.3 miles would take us all the way down to the river. Hayfields and ag fields up and down river from the state land would be possible enticements for deer to feed, and perhaps bed on the public.

Parking the SUV on the side of the road, we set off down the two track towards the river. The fence was placed for convenience at the top of the bluff, and eventually we were forced to cross the 6 strand fence to stay on State land. Continuing towards the river, we picked the correct ridge to start descending into the bottom of the gully. Mule deer does with twins and triplets were in our direct path. (One can be seen at the bottom of the photo below, all the others were tucked up under the contour of the ridge)

At one point as we continued towards the river, the boundary required us to leave the gully and sidehill a shale filled slope to avoid trespassing.

As we crested the next ridge, we were confronted with a wall of junipers, and consulting with OnX and GoHunt (we intentionally had both to see which one we liked better) we found we could get to the bottom of the gully and be on public. Proceeding onward we ran into bones and a couple of skulls. An antelope doe and mulie buck had met their ends in this ravine. The partially velveted buck died sometime before his antlers had completed growth, and we left him laying for us to pick up on the way back.

About 100 yards away from the river, I could sense the change in humidity, and we started to see a little more green in the vegetation. I asked Aaron to slow his pace, and suggested that this was the time for us to "start hunting".

Creeping into the river bottom, we found the creek to be clear and low, with only a few hoofprints in the sand at the rivers edge. I have fished this "river" both above and below this State land, but this was the first time to be on this stretch of the river. It seemed to be as low as I've ever seen it. We decided to not cross the river and push more into the possible deer hunting zone, but hang out on the outer edge and observe for any deer movement.



As the sun continued dropping, the hatch on the stream started, and like happens on so many small creeks, suddenly there were dimples everywhere on the flats of the pool.

Aaron got a little antsy and wanted to climb the steep ridge to be able to see around the upstream bluff. One of my favorite moments of the trip:



We did not see any deer, and with all available hunting time done, we shouldered our packs and started back up the gully. I took the lead for the first bit, and although I didn't tell Aaron what I was doing, I would lift my headlamp up into the trees/gully incline to see about any yellowish eyeballs watching us as we approached the possible mountain lion ambush spot where the deadhead lay. Finding the antlers, I strapped the skull to the pop-up 38 and kept going.

On the last leg of the hike back, we ran across an insect that I don't recall ever seeing before.


A Jerusalem cricket (aka potato cricket) lay in the two track, offering all the time in the world to snap some photos.

Jerusalem cricket - Wikipedia

en.wikipedia.org

Getting back to the cabin, Perry had supper waiting for us, and it was time for bed. We decided that as there would be rancher friends coming up to get a horse off the mountain, we wouldn't go hunting in the morning, but instead tackle our fence repair project and help with the horse trailering.

 

[kansasdad]

Labor Day Monday dawned warmish and smoky. The view from the front porch is always amazing at Perry's, and for us this was going to be the least smoky view for the week.




Long time ranchers friends came up with a trailer to take a horse down to their pastures. Chance the horse was going to be sold in the next couple of weeks, and the prospective buyer would be able to observe and ride him better at their place than at Perry's. After getting Chance in the trailer, we sat down for some peach cobbler that my sister sent along.



Perry has had this 160 acre slice of Wyoming for decades, and the buck and rail fence that keeps the horses away from the house has seen lots of winters come and go. I had mentioned to Perry that it was my hope that Aaron and I could apply some Kansas muscle and shore up any slumping rails and generally tighten up the fence. His fence was built a little differently than most buck/rail fences that I have seen before, as the "outer" side of the fence has all horizontal rails, while the "inner" side of the fence has diagonal rails that connect one buck to the other.

The cabin runs on propane for the stove/oven and the refrigerator/freezer, as well as Coleman style lamps for nighttime illumination. As there is no electricity, and I didn't know how many screws we might need to drive to firmly attach the rails to the bucks, I didn't bring cordless drills to drive screws, but instead came up with a plan to use electric fencing wire to tighten and strengthen the fence connections. Position, wrap and twist the wire tight, and move to the next weak spot in the fence. Several hours later, the fence was tighter and stronger. The horses love the corncobs that Aaron is feeding them, and behind Aaron's hand you can see wire "fix".

 

[kansasdad]

Because of the extremely warm temperatures we were going to be limited to first and last hours of the day to realistically find deer on the move. Once it starts to warm up and get on with the day, you could bet that whitetails will be finding some deep shade to stay cooler and wait for the waning hours of the day to once again become active.

This meant that we had the middle of the day to read, nap, cook, run up to "town" for gas or ice (and ice cream!) or visit with friends. Before Perry left to go back to his home a 2 hour drive away, he wanted to show us around "up on the mountain" where my relatives had started their presence in the Bighorns in another century. Close to 120 years ago, my great grandfather rode over the pass to go to Buffalo (the county seat at the time, as Washakie county hadn't been constituted yet) to refile his homestead claim out of the canyonlands further south to their first home location. Great grandma Grace thought the bottom of the canyon would be colder and snowier so he put in for the Hammer creek location.

Perry took us the few miles from his place to the original cabin site, and showed us the foundation stones that outlined the cabin location.



Aaron found the sole and top of an old leather shoe near the foundation of the cabin. I tried to imagine who might have owned that shoe.... perhaps my Grammie, or maybe one of her siblings?



My grandma and her siblings would ski down the hill to the school house in the winter time. Years later the cabin and the schoolhouse were moved, and it turns out that the school house became the Mills family barn.



The above photo shows the now moved schoolhouse to the later homestead location. All of that yellow in the photo is what we call “snowplant”. Early to green and early to dry and become brittle, brushing up against it when it’s dry with sound just like a rattlesnake rattle.




My darkly completed Great Uncle Dutch, third from the right as a school boy outside the schoolhouse. His grandmother was Shoshoni Indian/French trapper/escaped slave origins, and so the ranchers tan on head and arms was extreme all of his days. My kids poke fun of me also for the white/tanlines I can grow nearly year round.

Near the original homestead, the remains of the stone spring box were found, and even in the face of the drought of summer, the spring was still running. Just as we arrived, we flushed 8 mule deer out of the deep grass and scant shade of a few stunted trees, and a little bit later we put up a covey of huns as well.



As a youngster I visited this part of the mountain with Uncle Dutch. The main reason we went up there was to have a go at some of the rockchucks (marmots) that lived in the rock formation up above the cabin site. And Uncle Dutch wanted to fill his water jug from the spring box. He said this spring was his second favorite spring on the mountain, with the school/barn/cabin spring his favorite.

 

[270.Rose]

Thanks for sharing your hunting adventures!! I'm really enjoying this!

 

[El Jason]

That’s some cool history. Very cool.

 

[kansasdad]

Perry picked up the phone and made a call. He was hoping that he could find a willing rancher who would grant access to hayfields/and or the river bottoms that would allow us to reduce the whitetail population by one or two. Our unit was over populated with whitetails per the biologist, with concern how their presence was effecting the mule deer, and also concerns about CWD. The problem with most whitetail holding lands in the majority of Wyoming is the habitat best suited for whitetails is overwhelmingly private land. Water is king for private land ownership, and that is where you find whitetails.....irrigated hayfields, crop lands and river bottoms.

Perry's phone call was a bit disheartening as the rancher wanted to give us permission, but most of his land, and the land of other ranchers in the valley has been leased for outfitting. Leasing lifts the burden of the landowner from screening potential hunters, and presumably allows for some income for the rancher.

E-scouting had shown me several ways to stretch our legs and get into parcels of State or BLM lands that might have whitetails. Doing so we would have to be careful as several of the parcels of State land were off limits to hunting as they were designated off limits due to irrigation/agriculture, and several routes would require us crossing the river to access more possible whitetail lands.

My sister's peach cobbler and our visiting with the ranchers when they drove up to collect the horse tipped the scales in our favor, as a little bit later the rancher called back, saying he had found a loophole in his outfitted land problem. One parcel of his bottomland was not included in the lease agreement, and while he had folks coming to rifle hunt in October, he didn't feel that it would a problem if we tried to reduce the accursed whitetail population. He asked that we come by the house so that he could take us down to the property and show us access, bridge and property boundaries.

We arrived at the house, and we walked up to the "front door" and gently knocked. Voices inside were heard, and then we realized our mistake of walking to the front door, as Mrs Rancher came out of the garage looking for us. We sat at the kitchen table and talked about how life in the valley has changed in the 70+ years he has lived and worked here. How there used to never be whitetails, or turkeys, and how there was never any outfitters leasing up lands to hunt.

This rancher is the one who rescued my Uncle from foreclosure during the Jimmy Carter recession, by buying his ranch, and as an act of extreme kindness arranged for my great Uncle/Aunt to live in their home until their passing. Talking about his friendship with my family and how my Uncle died 366 days after the paperwork was signed brought some tears to his eyes, which brought tears to my eyes as well. I thanked him for all of the kindnesses his family and my family had shared over the years.

He was well acquainted with OnX, but had never seen the use of the distance tool in action. I showed him my plan to get into deer areas that coincidentally were adjacent to his hayfields, and he said, "well, you wont have to get wet now".

Driving down the long ranch driveway to get to the lower fields, the ruts in the road required full attention to prevent scraping of the Highlander's undercarriage. The rancher took us towards the rickety bridge that is the only way for property owners to get to the west side of the river. As we drove along we saw whitetails running out of their bedding areas, one of them a decent racked buck. Getting to the bridge, I gulped and drove across, feeling the large timbers dance and shake as we proceeded to the other side.

Once we knew the lay of the land, we drove the rancher back to his house, and made plans for our evening hunt. Aaron and I decided that we would set up so that we would be in the pathway of deer leaving their bedding areas and coming onto the lowest hayfield. Loading up and spraying scent control stuff on us, we had a couple of good luck oatmeal raisin cookies and crossed through the gate.



We entered the field and found the edge of the field to be squishy and mosquito filled. Sitting against a huge cottonwood, we fired up the thermacell units and awaited the soon coming deer.

The first doe entered the field at 65 yards from where we were sitting, and slowly made her way out into the middle of the field. Other deer were seen further away on our field and on the upper field adjacent to where we were sitting. Aaron described the deer activity on our right as a "deer highway" as we saw multiple deer traipsing up and down the elevated field edge.

At the end of legal shooting time, there were multiple doe/fawn pairs on the field, so we waited until it got fully dark to make our way back to the SUV.



Leaving the field by a different way than we came in, I was hoping to avoid the wet feet we got entering the field. The swather had left a strip of thigh high grass at the edge of the field, and I was completely surprised by the irrigation channel that my right foot dropped into, up to my crotch. We laughed as I pulled myself out of the hole, and remarked how glad I was that I hadn't hurt myself, not realizing at the time that this fall might have caused an issue with my crossbow scope.

 

[NEWHunter]

not realizing at the time that this fall might have caused an issue with my crossbow scope.

Ominous foreshadowing there . . .

 

[kansasdad]

The next morning I woke up before the alarm was to go off, and made my way to the outhouse, hoping that the elk presumed to be at the bottom of the canyon might feel the urge to start bugling and serenade me while I was taking care of business. At our elevation it is unusual that you don't need to layer up for your early morning stroll, but this day the air was full of smoke and quite balmy and heading towards a high of 102 degrees.

Aaron and I knew where we were going to set up this morning, so wishing each other success, we headed in for an eventful hunt. I moved downriver from where we had sat last night, as after zooming in on OnX and GoHunt, it was evident where the hay machinery entered and exited this field, and I was going to get where I wanted to sit without a repeat of last night's wet exit from the field.

Last night we had seen deer come onto the field from the north where I was setting up, and Aaron was in ambush location on the "deer highway" to the south. The morning wind was deathly still, but predicted to pick up from the north west, which should not be a factor in our morning's hunt.

A dozen minutes before the sun peaked over the mountains, I spied a muley doe and her triplets coming onto the hayfield. She took to grazing as her young ones did the toddler harassment of each other so common among young siblings. They were heading my way, and as my tag was species specific, I kept my bow on the ground in front of me. Slowly they continued my was and I wondered how well my scent control was going to work as they got closer and closer.

I was sitting against a huge cottonwood trunk, with a plant-less area surrounding the tree of about a 10 yard diameter.



The triplets were ahead of mom, and drawing ever closer. I hadn't reached for my camera when I first saw them come around the corner of the field, and was now regretting this decision as they continued to close the distance. At their closest, two of the triplets got to 8 feet away from my outstretch boots. Mom sensed something was up, and she must have been wondering what that darker blob attached to the cottonwood tree was doing there when it hadn't been there last night. She kept staring at me and her triplets must have sensed her go "on alert" as they started to stretch out their necks my way, and take deep inhalations with flared nostrils.

Mom stomped, shook her head, and wheezed at me. Rinse, repeat, rinse repeat. The closest of the triplets almost looked like a dog wanting to play as it lowered it's front end and shuffled back and forth. The furthest fawn scampered away when mom snorted again, and that movement broke the spell. Mom trotted away, with the fawns following close behind.

I couldn't help myself as I chuckled out loud as I reached for my camera. 60 seconds later two of the three fawns came back down the machinery road to once again stare at the dark blob in front of the cottonwood. They scattered as I brought the camera up to snap a pic of them leaving.

 

[OntarioHunter]

Enjoying this. Very relaxing.

 

[kansasdad]

It was getting lighter, and finally the sun peaked over the Bighorns. The smoke in the air made this sunrise more orange than normal.



A legal-for-me doe had made its way onto the field, but was over 175 yards away and heading towards Aaron's hidey hole.



Above this doe I saw more movement and they also were headed towards the area that Aaron was sitting

 

[rtraverdavis]

Really enjoying this, especially all the history and family ties. I hunted that area with my Dad in 2020 in very different weather conditions than what you experienced on this trip. It’s a pretty neat part of the country.

 

[kansasdad]

Aaron had made his way to his ambush spot by finding a place just off of the "deer highway" where he was sitting below the level of the hayfield. Only his upper torso would have been visible to any deer on the upper hayfield, and he was screened from their view by tall grasses.



About the time my muley fawns made their last appearance, he thought he heard some footsteps up around the corner of the field. Glancing down the field's edge, he saw her coming only when she was within 10 yards. Moving his bow to his shoulder, she sensed his movement and stopped, looking to where he was clicking off his safety.

The crossbow scope is marked at 20,30 and 50 yard horizontal lines, with 10 and 50 yard indents on the vertical. Settling the 20 on her crease, he released the bolt, which resulted in her immediately dropping and then she struggled to rise off of the earth. On autopsy we determined that his high shot hit her spine, and deflected downward, catching the offside lung.

306.9 yards away (thanks OnX!) I heard the shot. So did the whitetails on my field, who alerted, wheezed and took off for the river's edge. In a moment my phone vibrated and we sent a text or two or forty back and forth.

Him: "Down in front of me" "Got one"

Me: "I heard the shot. So stoked" "More running your way" "Did you see her go down?"

Him: "She can't stand up, literally stuck 10 yards from me struggling"

Other deer on the upper field.....lots of wheezing, snorting that I can hear

Him: "They probably see her struggle. She stopped moving now. If I stand up will she run?"

Me: "Stay still, reload" "Be ready to shoot if she starts moving again" "Probs all done" "So stoked!!" "Did I say that already?" "Photos please" and finally "And push those other deer my way"
Him: "Haha, I wish I could, but they just got past me around the wrong way. Didn't see her until she was 8 yards away"
Me: "Is she all done you think?"
Him: "She's absolutely done"
Me: "Help me remember we need evidence of sex and species as we process her"
Him: "Didn't realize a million deer were staring at me"
Me: "A group text photo (to the family group text) with either a "boom" or perhaps "thwack" as accompanying text in order"
Him: Maybe you should walk over here and listen to this symphony of snorts a little closer"
Me: "If you had a clean pass thru, we should look for your arrow"
"I can hear them blowing at you"
"And I've seen them on the deer highway multiple times"
Him: I don't remember seeing an arrow in her
Me: Make a mental note on where to search

With this suggestion he placed his arrow quiver in the grass along the shot line to help remember the exact line.

The day was getting warmer by the minute, but with does in the general area, I still clung to hope that I might get an opportunity for me to sign my tag on a whitetail yet this morning.

After enough time had elapsed for me to realize that deer activity was going to be over for the morning, I gathered up my gear and headed towards the SUV. We probably could have driven right up to where she lay, but I decided that a 100 yard packout wasn't going to hurt us at all.



Meanwhile Aaron had found his arrow, as it was just at her hind legs.


Time to break her down and get her cooling

 

[kansasdad]

Getting the hide off and quartering was accomplished, heart, liver, kidneys and tenderloins included. Aaron showed off and took 3 game bags in one hand and his pack, shooting sticks and stool in the other and made it to the gate without dropping anything. Placing the bags in the back of the highlander, we took off for the cabin.

Hanging the game bags in the shade, where a good breeze was blowing, I talked Aaron through prepping the heart for our upcoming lunch. I use a technique similar to Danielle Prewitt's (Wild and Whole/MeatEater) method of following the natural sections of the heart, and taught him to use eyesight and touch to identify the chorda and gristly tissue that ends up being tough to chew.

While he was cubing the heart, I was doing the same to onion, peppers, zucchini and yellow squash and getting the rice started. A pouch of Thai Mango Curry simmer sauce was going to pull it all together. Hot skillets and a bit of simmering and we were in business.





A good cook should taste his/her creation as it is being made, and my first bite of heart was a touch firm, but when combined with the veggies and the simmer sauce, with another 10 minutes of heat and love, the final product was amazing. The next time I do this I will plan on adding some mango chunks, and add some "heat" as well, depending on who will be dining and their tolerance for "spice".



After lunch we turned our attention to the game bags, as the meat had lost most of the body heat, and the day wasn't going to get any cooler. We placed the quarters into plastic bags, and laid them on the still fully frozen gallon jugs that had made the trip from Kansas. One layer of deer, some ice chest ice cubes, and another couple of quarters, ice and then the loose meat.



And then it was time for a nice siesta nap.

 

[kansasdad]

Knowing that we had tonight and tomorrow to hunt, we made plans to once again hit the hayfield to see about my chances for a deer. I also have a turkey tag, and driving towards the private land loaded with whitetails, we passed by a large State section with a large flock of turkeys out in the middle of the bottomland. Those turkeys were in the hunting exclusion zone (irrigated lands) so effectively not huntable.

I decided to set up where the "deer highway" entered into the trees, hoping to catch the deer leaving the bedding areas along the creek. Passing the morning's kill site, we flushed up a good handful of magpies that had been on the remains of the doe.

It turned out that all of the deer activity we saw this evening was on adjacent pastures, which gave me the idea of where we should hunt the next morning.

 

[kansasdad]

The alarm didn't have to go off as I was awake a couple of minutes before it was scheduled to ring. Grabbing a ziplock bag of breakfast burritos and throwing them into a pot of boiling water to immersion reheat them, we headed down to the hayfields.

Not needing a headlamp due to the easy walking on the two track fully illuminated by the near full moon, we walked past the deer highway and found a good ambush spot under some super large cottonwood trees. The open gate was a good funnel for deer movement, so we settled down into the tall grass to await the eastern lightening coming over the mountains.

Shortly before sunrise I looked up to see a doe and two yearlings out in the open 50 yards away. They were headed right towards the gate, so I readied myself for a potential shot. The young ones were in the lead, as the doe was more interested in getting some breakfast. With no wind, I wondered how big a cone of scent we were dealing with, and the answer ended up being about 6 yards, as finally one of the young ones froze and raised its nose into the air, pulling in big puffs of air. Mom saw this and went on high alert, still about 40 yards away. One more step forward for the closest deer, and snorts started happening.

I could see the mucous spray off of the snorter's nose, as the darker pasture grass gave a nice contrast to the orange semi-sunlight to the east. All three deer startled and ran away. The doe ran about 150 yards and hopped the fence. The next yearling followed, but the last one hesitated at the fence, and then disappeared.

As Aaron was sitting a little lower than I was, he didn't see the approaching yearlings, and asked "how close were they?"

"About 5 yards", I answered.

"How come you didn't shoot?"

"It was just the young one, the doe stayed back, screened behind some branches"

Around 10 minutes later, I caught movement along the fenceline about where the deer had left the pasture, and saw a deer running along the fence, heading back our way. Binoculars up, it proved to be an antlerless whitetail. Every so often we could see this deer make a little run towards the fence as if to jump over it, and on several occasions it almost seemed like it tried to squirt through the fence, but almost appeared to get thrown back, like someone bouncing on a trampoline.

Eventually working its way back towards us, I had some decisions to make. I knew the rancher would like to reduce the whitetails on his hayfields, and I knew that this young deer wasn't going to produce lots of meat for my table. I had this hunt and this evening to get a deer and or turkey as we were leaving the next day for Kansas.

The deer got close to coming thru the gate and into range, and then ran back to where the other two had jumped the fence. Trying several more times to get through the fence, it started to come back towards where we were sitting. I moved and went right to the gate post, deciding that if given the opportunity, I was going to shoot this deer.



Barbwire fence, grass and little branches presented complications on where I might get a clear shot if this deer came back into range, so while the deer was banging its head on the fence 150 yards away, I got to pruning the vegetation in preparation for a shot.

Heading back our way, I set up the sticks so that I would just clear the fencing and not let my crossbow limbs hit any substantial plant material at the shot. Finally the deer trotted into range, and somewhat reluctantly I decided to take the shot.

Thwack......the young deer trotted forward a little bit and stopped, looking back at the gate and the source of the strange noise. What the what?? No blood streaming down from a perfectly placed shot, no sign of impact at all.

The young deer ran towards the deer highway trail, and then 5 minutes later was coming back our way. Figuring that I had miscalculated the range, I kept my rangefinder out and waited for the deer to stop, clearly in range, and shot again. What the what the what???

Completely flummoxed, I realized I had missed again.

Trotting off, this deer made it back to where the other deer had crossed, and in what now seems like a panic, tried several times to get through the fence or even under the fence, never seeming like it wanted to or knew how to jump over the fence.

I am embarrassed to document this, but this deer once again came within range, and once again I loosed a bolt, and once again I whiffed. In all this action, Aaron was behind me about ten yards back, and even put my camera on video as he saw the deer coming back for my third attempt. There is video documentation of my third miss, although the flight of the bolt is blocked by some grass.

Disgusted with myself, I stand up and look back at Aaron. Wondering what is wrong with me, I told him that we are done for the morning.

"Do you think that maybe your fall in the ditch knocked your scope?"

"I don't know, but lets get back to the highlander, get the target out and shoot to see".

First shot at 20 yards is at least three inches low. Reproducible and verified low, I dial the scope and hit the bullseye at 20, then 30 and 40. My first shot this morning was ranged to be at 29. I held slightly low at the 30 yard pin, and shot under that deer. Not once, not twice, but three times. Same deer. Same shot.

Three weeks later, it still hurts to even type it.

 

[OntarioHunter]

Looks like it was a beautiful morning with lots of action.

 

[kansasdad]

Barely liking myself after this morning's shooting performance and still trying to blame the scope and not the man behind the scope, we made it back to the cabin and sprung into action.

The weather was going to turn for the southern Bighorns in a big way starting tonight. A cold front was coming, and promising rain. Welcome rain for the ranchers and critters, but perhaps unwelcome rain for those trying to travel by gravel/dirt roads. Aaron started to clean and reorganize Perry's kitchen countertops and kitchen. We wanted to leave the place super clean and organized. While he was doing that, I got our personal gear organized and ready to be packed into the highlander once we were done hunting.

Last year while hunting a distant cousin's property, I took a photo of his house and outbuildings with the plan of getting a framed print sent to him as a gift. On arrival to the valley I had called and left a voice mail message that we were there, and would love to drop by with some flies that I had tied from some turkey feathers we found while on a hunt on his property. A little phone tag, and I finally caught up with his wife. She assured us that someone would be home in the early afternoon to get the flybox.

Driving up to their house, we could hear the lawnmower in the back. Coming around the house, we found her cutting the grass. Chatting for a bit, I once again explained that I was coming to give a little bit of Kansas goodness (sandplum jelly) and the flies that I had tied. I explained that I had tied the flies, and had planned on sending them to arrive about the same time as the framed photo of their ranch so that I could thank them for their generosity.

Her eyes got super big.

"Wait, what photo are you talking about?"

"The one I sent in October. Framed photo of the ranch, taken from across the highway."

Even bigger eyes........"YOU ARE THE ONE??"

She then went on to tell us that the box that held the framed photo was delivered with no enclosed notes as to the sender, or my message of thanks for their kind permission for us to be on their land. They had tried to guess who might have sent it, including several of their adult children, or perhaps grandchildren, or even a neighbor.

She took us inside to show us the photo, saying that she had heard her husband several times say that it was his favorite photo.

The family photo wall has B/W photos of his and her parents at the top, with various photos of themselves, their kids and the grandkids below that. In the center of it all, is the framed photo of the ranch HQ.



(I asked her permission to take a photo of the family wall, and she said would be just fine)

We learned that my cousin was down at his sister's place working on a project with his brother-in-law. My cousin has ranched all his life, and along the way became a NewYorkLife agent, sitting at the top 1% club. And he still gets up and irrigates and runs the cattle ranch too.

We drove down there to say hello, and we got to tell my cousin about the trout flies made from his turkey's feathers, and also share the identity of person who made his favorite photo of his ranch.

As much as he hates the turkeys that now inhabit the bottomlands, and as much as he loves that photo, he told Aaron and me that we will always have a place to hunt turkeys in Wyoming.

 

[kansasdad]

While we were sitting in the woodshed chatting with my cousin, the leading edge of the cold front blew through. Fat heavy raindrops pushed by gusty chilly winds made us happy to be under a roof, and hopeful for a deer filled evening.

Arriving down at mosquito central, we shouldered our packs for one last hunt. I decided to start at the far end of the deer highway, and be ready to move if that was needed. The first deer to arrive out in the open were on the lower field. Had we set up where we were the first evening's hunt, it would have been over quickly.



Those deer started drifting southward, heading right where we sat the evening before.

Knowing that I needed to move, I got my kansasdad ninja mode going and crawled towards the other end of the deer highway. There was a cut bank with tall grass on the peripheral of the field, so I dropped my legs over the edge, with my head level with the field.

Deer filtered onto the upper field and started to eat, drifting more or less my way. Constant range finding use showed them to be 60-100 yards away most of the evening. One darkly colored doe and her twins started coming right along the field's edge towards me, getting to where Aaron's deer had died, and she skittered away from the edge of the pasture. Walking and grazing she never stopped moving while passing into a shooting lane through the tall grasses.



As the multiple deer spread out over the field, the first ones finally got to a downwind location and went on higher alert, which translated to the dozen or so deer in the field. We stayed until the end of shooting light. No deer came into my comfort zone for a shot. We had deer out in front and behind us for over an hour. Such a perfect Wyoming evening.

After our evening hunt, Aaron needed to drop off the landowner coupon to the rancher giving us access to the hayfields, and we wanted to give them some Kansas sandplum jelly as well.

The rancher wanted to hear all about Aaron's first big game success, and Aaron was able to articulate his feelings quite well. Aaron talked about taking lots of ducks, turkeys and geese, and he admitted that he had wondered how he would feel when getting his first deer. He said that driving up to Wyoming last year, he had thought that he might be 2% unsure about shooting such a large creature, but when it came time, he was 100% happy about the whole trip, and especially happy about the success that he had had. He excitedly talked about the meals that he was planning on making with this harvest, and how he was looking forward to sharing the successes with friends and family.

The rancher talked about some of his journey as a hunter, and talked about how he almost never thinks about killing anything himself, but is always so happy for others to do well, especially youngsters and veterans. He shared that his landowner tags are always donated for veteran/disabled hunting programs.

 

[npaden]

Thanks for taking us along. Sounds like a great time spent with your son!