The Universe denied us a return to the highlands this year. However, back in the early summer Brother Scott found he had been successful in drawing both bull elk and any sex mule deer muzzleloader tags for his home state of Colorado. On the other hand, had come up negative on all my limited drawings this year. So, having no plans I offered to come out and help (glassing, packing, hiking, pushing, whatever). He gladly accepted my offer, I found some reasonable plane tickets and we started planning.
With a few trail cameras out he soon caught a large bull elk with a very atypical rack. The ranch we were hunting was a neighbors 10,000 acre bit of ground and we would have exclusive rights during the early season. Therefore, we knew where the bull was, knew his pattern, and all that was needed was to be in the right place at the right time, and we would easily collect. HAHAHAHAHA
The day was finally here, I rose at 0300, left the house by 0400, was at the airport at 0515 for a 0645 flight. Upon take-off I used all my Air Force training to immediately fall asleep for 2/3s of the 3 hour flight. I awoke in time for last coffee. Deplaned, grabbed bags, caught the shuttle and met up with brother well before noon. We stopped at WalMart to stock up on supplies, the Game and Fish Office for my small game license, then headed north. There were many lessons either learned or re-learned, but the first was that I was in a much more arid clime than I am used to so I started drinking water and Gatorade immediately. This didn’t prevent my nose from drying out and occasionally bleeding, but it did prevent dehydration cramps.
Day of arrival was scouting, so we drove to the ranch and checked out some of the areas. My computer scouting using a satellite mapping program (OnX maps) revealed that the ground was much steeper than I thought. Strange how reality is a bit more extreme than the little internet world. After glassing a few areas, we had our plan for the next day so we headed to his house to greet the rest of the family. Pleasant evening, quick to bed then a wake-up.
The next morning was hell. I awoke 2 hours early, massive migraine headache and shortness of breath. My North Carolina home is 169 feet above sea level. Brother’s home is 7100 feet, and my body was rebelling. After a couple hours of agony and purging, and other assorted unpleasantries I was able to get functional enough to hunt, so out the door we went.
We drove a steep road up to a parking point at 7400 feet – then proceeded on foot to a high meadow (7750 feet) where the bull elk had been captured on a trail cam. We split up, Brother taking the most likely spot and I covering a spot that would allow me to glass 2 additional spots. I had a .22 for grouse or whatever other small game was in season.
On the way in, while still dark, we found a mule deer doe in the light of the red torch. My spot was about 50 yards from being ideal so after first light I moved and from there could watch another doe and yearling, as well as some Albert’s Squirrels (jet black with tufted ears). Scott also saw a doe, as well as some Blue Grouse but no sign of the elk. Around 1000 we headed back down, sidetracking to scout another area. We eventually got to the truck and then stopped at the ranchers house. He was 94, a bit crippled in the hips, but mentally sharp as a tack. He proceeded to tell us where he would expect deer and elk to be. After a long chat we headed home, had a bit of lunch then a short nap.
For the evening hunt we followed the old ranchers direction and scouted a different portion of the ranch. At almost the exact spot forecast, Brother Scott stopped the truck and pointed out a bedded Mule Deer buck about 200 yards away in the shade of some rocks out on a big sage flat. We glassed the entire area and saw only the one small (3x3 – the western way of reckoning points) buck. I found this hard to believe, because all of my whitetail experience said that this time of year the bucks would still be in bachelor groups. This turned out to be the only bit of whitetail wisdom that I could actually transfer over to mule deer. All my other grand bits of knowledge were absolutely worthless on these deer.
We stopped perhaps another ½ mile on, and walked to the edge of a canyon. At the bottom of the canyon was a lush and recently cut hay meadow with a stream running through. My whitetail wisdom said lush growth and water always equals deer. This turned out to be patently false. During the entire week we never saw a single ungulate in this whole canyon. We glassed and glassed, until 45 minutes before dark I convinced Scott to go back out towards were we had seen the 1 buck.
Slipping out that direction we were rewarded with not 1 but 3 bucks. The 3x3 from earlier, a 4x4, and a young 2x2 (forkhorn) still in velvet. The two older deer were playfully sparring and this allowed us to close the distance from 400 yards to a little over 100. This was muzzleloader season, and as such we need to be a maximum distance of 150 yards, and preferably closer. Our sneaking and butt sliding worked, a suitable rock for a rest was found the largest buck was in sights, ,and BOOM – the buck broke into a run with no sign of a hit.
Follow up shots are difficult when the entire loading process has to occur at the muzzle, but not to worry, after a 40 yard run, the buck did a circular death dance. Quick kill, and best of all he had dropped 10 yards from the 2 track trail across the sage flat. A walk to check the buck, then a walk to the truck, followed by a drive back to within feet fo the deer. Gralloching was accomplished by truck headlights, buck was easily swung into the bed of the truck and off to home. With dropping temps and night forecast of 45° F, skinning had him cooled down
The plan for the next morning was to be a repeat of the 1st morning. Trail camera pics showed the bull coming through about every 4 days, so maybe the odds were in our favor.
With a few trail cameras out he soon caught a large bull elk with a very atypical rack. The ranch we were hunting was a neighbors 10,000 acre bit of ground and we would have exclusive rights during the early season. Therefore, we knew where the bull was, knew his pattern, and all that was needed was to be in the right place at the right time, and we would easily collect. HAHAHAHAHA
The day was finally here, I rose at 0300, left the house by 0400, was at the airport at 0515 for a 0645 flight. Upon take-off I used all my Air Force training to immediately fall asleep for 2/3s of the 3 hour flight. I awoke in time for last coffee. Deplaned, grabbed bags, caught the shuttle and met up with brother well before noon. We stopped at WalMart to stock up on supplies, the Game and Fish Office for my small game license, then headed north. There were many lessons either learned or re-learned, but the first was that I was in a much more arid clime than I am used to so I started drinking water and Gatorade immediately. This didn’t prevent my nose from drying out and occasionally bleeding, but it did prevent dehydration cramps.
Day of arrival was scouting, so we drove to the ranch and checked out some of the areas. My computer scouting using a satellite mapping program (OnX maps) revealed that the ground was much steeper than I thought. Strange how reality is a bit more extreme than the little internet world. After glassing a few areas, we had our plan for the next day so we headed to his house to greet the rest of the family. Pleasant evening, quick to bed then a wake-up.
The next morning was hell. I awoke 2 hours early, massive migraine headache and shortness of breath. My North Carolina home is 169 feet above sea level. Brother’s home is 7100 feet, and my body was rebelling. After a couple hours of agony and purging, and other assorted unpleasantries I was able to get functional enough to hunt, so out the door we went.
We drove a steep road up to a parking point at 7400 feet – then proceeded on foot to a high meadow (7750 feet) where the bull elk had been captured on a trail cam. We split up, Brother taking the most likely spot and I covering a spot that would allow me to glass 2 additional spots. I had a .22 for grouse or whatever other small game was in season.
On the way in, while still dark, we found a mule deer doe in the light of the red torch. My spot was about 50 yards from being ideal so after first light I moved and from there could watch another doe and yearling, as well as some Albert’s Squirrels (jet black with tufted ears). Scott also saw a doe, as well as some Blue Grouse but no sign of the elk. Around 1000 we headed back down, sidetracking to scout another area. We eventually got to the truck and then stopped at the ranchers house. He was 94, a bit crippled in the hips, but mentally sharp as a tack. He proceeded to tell us where he would expect deer and elk to be. After a long chat we headed home, had a bit of lunch then a short nap.
For the evening hunt we followed the old ranchers direction and scouted a different portion of the ranch. At almost the exact spot forecast, Brother Scott stopped the truck and pointed out a bedded Mule Deer buck about 200 yards away in the shade of some rocks out on a big sage flat. We glassed the entire area and saw only the one small (3x3 – the western way of reckoning points) buck. I found this hard to believe, because all of my whitetail experience said that this time of year the bucks would still be in bachelor groups. This turned out to be the only bit of whitetail wisdom that I could actually transfer over to mule deer. All my other grand bits of knowledge were absolutely worthless on these deer.
We stopped perhaps another ½ mile on, and walked to the edge of a canyon. At the bottom of the canyon was a lush and recently cut hay meadow with a stream running through. My whitetail wisdom said lush growth and water always equals deer. This turned out to be patently false. During the entire week we never saw a single ungulate in this whole canyon. We glassed and glassed, until 45 minutes before dark I convinced Scott to go back out towards were we had seen the 1 buck.
Slipping out that direction we were rewarded with not 1 but 3 bucks. The 3x3 from earlier, a 4x4, and a young 2x2 (forkhorn) still in velvet. The two older deer were playfully sparring and this allowed us to close the distance from 400 yards to a little over 100. This was muzzleloader season, and as such we need to be a maximum distance of 150 yards, and preferably closer. Our sneaking and butt sliding worked, a suitable rock for a rest was found the largest buck was in sights, ,and BOOM – the buck broke into a run with no sign of a hit.
Follow up shots are difficult when the entire loading process has to occur at the muzzle, but not to worry, after a 40 yard run, the buck did a circular death dance. Quick kill, and best of all he had dropped 10 yards from the 2 track trail across the sage flat. A walk to check the buck, then a walk to the truck, followed by a drive back to within feet fo the deer. Gralloching was accomplished by truck headlights, buck was easily swung into the bed of the truck and off to home. With dropping temps and night forecast of 45° F, skinning had him cooled down
The plan for the next morning was to be a repeat of the 1st morning. Trail camera pics showed the bull coming through about every 4 days, so maybe the odds were in our favor.
