Muley Addiction
Here's one of my favorites from a couple of years ago:
Hi. My name is SureShot and I kill big bucks. Lots of them.
Like many of you, hunting is a passion for me. Actually, it's become more than a passion. In fact, after a lot of soul searching and some intervention from my family and close friends, I've come to the painful realization that it has become an addiction. This is very difficult to do, but Step 1 in this new program I'm in says to admit you are powerless over your addiction?that your life has become unmanageable.
OK, fine. I admit it.
My wife is so patient and understanding. And hot. I'm the luckiest guy in the world. My family is the most important thing in my life and I would do anything for them. I promised my wife that I would get on here and share the story of my 2012 hunts and then spend the rest of the evening with her. (Step 8: make a list of all the people you have harmed, and be willing to make amends to them all.)
So, I'll try to make this quick.
As I said, most people think I'm the luckiest guy in the world. I freely admit that much of my hunting success is due to luck. The only difference between me and most other hunters is that I make my own luck. Take the first monster buck I was fortunate enough to harvest this year for example. It all started with a very tough muzzleloader hunt last year. I arrived at camp a week before the season opened to scout and stayed until the very last day. I hunted every day of the hunt from the minute legal shooting hours started until the minute they ended. After all that time, I never found a buck worthy of punching my tag, so I went home empty-handed.
Most guys would have given up at that point and enjoyed some tag soup. But, not me. I kept that tag and picked up this September right where I left off last year. I knew I had to fill my tag before this year?s season started, so I planned my first hunt for early September. It was another tough hunt and, after three days of hunting, I had only seen one monster 3-point. Unfortunately, he was on the neighboring CWMU unit and I didn't have permission to go on there after him. But, fortunately, my father-in-law is a professional guide on that unit. So we worked out a plan where I would sit just on the public side of the boundary and he would ?accidentally? bump the deer across the fence towards me.
The plan worked to perfection and one well-placed shot from 450 yards away with my Knight muzzleloader made me the luckiest hunter in the world that day.
That's what I'm talking about when I say I make my own luck.
I hesitated to post any pictures because everybody is so critical lately. Why can't you just let a guy post his story and give him props? But, since I know how much you guys love to see pictures of huge deer, I decided to post it anyway. I personally don't care about score, but I know a lot of you do, so I'll throw it out there to help you get better at scoring bucks over the Internet. He?s not real wide?only 26??but he's super tall and heavy, and look at those forks! I rough scored him at 170 as is. If he wouldn't have broken off his G4s, he probably would have been around 190. I'm hoping my taxidermist can fix that for me. He does really good with that kind of stuff.
With my 2011 Utah muzzy tag filled, it was time to focus on my 2012 tag. I usually hunt several states each year, but this year I was fighting my addiction and I tried to cut back to just a single tag. Since I have a lifetime license in Utah and can hunt anywhere in the state with it, I thought I would settle on just this one this year.
I normally spend over 300 days a year in the field and know right where the best bucks are. However, this year things got really busy so I did most of my scouting at work via the Internet. This method may not work for everybody, but it was still productive for me. Here are some of the better bucks I found and was able to get pics of through my digiscoping setup:
With my successful pre-season scouting completed, I eagerly awaited the opening day of the Utah muzzleloader hunt. As usual, I packed all of my gear in on horses with my brothers and our sons. We found a new camp this year that takes three days to get to on horses, so we were confident we would have the mountain all to ourselves. One of my brothers had gone in a few days early and found some real bruisers to chase.
After all these years, I still have a hard time sleeping the night before the opener. This year was no different. By 3:00 am I couldn't take it any longer, so I got up, ate a nice hearty breakfast, gathered up all my gear, sighted in my muzzleloader and headed up the trail. 4 hours later, I was perched on the top of a ridge overlooking a beautiful alpine bowl as the sun slowly made its way over the eastern horizon. My brothers and nephew were positioned in strategic locations around the same bowl. My brother had spotted a bachelor group of about a dozen bucks in this basin the day before, including 5 mature bucks that would all score over 120. We had them surrounded and knew it was just a matter of time before we would be attaching our tags to some of them.
As the sun slowly added definition and color to the grey shapes of dawn, I quickly found a couple of old monarchs with huge racks feeding about 80 yards below me. The wind wasn?t right to cut the distance any further, so I contentedly watched them through my Swarovski 10x42 binoculars until they eventually fed out of the basin right where one of my brothers was supposed to be sitting.
Unfortunately, he wasn?t sitting where he was supposed to. Fortunately, the reason he wasn?t sitting there is because he and his son were making a move on another group of bucks lower in the basin, including a huge 5x5 that was pushing 200 inches. Unfortunately, the bucks saw them before they were able to get into a good position to shoot them and started to head out. Fortunately, they decided there's always hope when there's lead in the air so they each fired a shot at the monster. Unfortunately, their hope was in vain as the shots fell harmlessly to the ground and the deer got away. Fortunately, that just meant we all got to keep hunting and enjoying this awesome time together in these beautiful mountains.
We continued to hunt hard for the next two days through periods of pounding rain, dense fog, brilliant sunshine and complete darkness. We had several close calls, but nobody was able to pull the trigger until the evening of the third day.
On that fateful day, we started the morning out by spotting a massive 4-point and some bigger bucks feeding on a hillside over a mile away. It would be impossible to make a play on them that morning, but I tried anyway. Unfortunately, as soon as I stood up, the bucks caught my movement and quickly disappeared into the thick timber. Fortunately, they moved into a box canyon surrounded by cliffs of insanity and we knew they only had one way to escape.
We wisely decided to give them time to settle down and make our move in the afternoon as they got up to feed.
As the sun started to make its way across the western sky and the shadows grew longer, we again found ourselves surrounding a basin that we knew held some monster bucks. The plan was to have my nephew and I make a direct move on the bucks, hoping to catch them before they spotted us. If that failed, my brothers were in a position to intercept them on the only escape route from the basin.
My nephew and I quietly slipped into the mouth of the canyon and slowly fed our way towards the bedded bucks. Our plan was working to perfection and my nephew and I were almost into position to see the entire boxed canyon when a new deer that we hadn't seen before snorted loudly and crashed through the trees into the canyon.
I knew the rest of the deer would be on full alert and our chances of sneaking up on them were gone, so I told my nephew to forget the ninja mode and move into full-on assault mode. We hustled up the canyon and I got my nephew into a perfect position so he could have the first shot. After shooting as many big bucks as I have, my first priority when I'm hunting with youth is to make sure they have success. The children are our future, and it's all about them.
Just as we got into position, I looked to my right and there he was. The monster buck with heavy antlers reaching out almost to his ears was standing broadside about 150 yards away, but he had already seen us and I knew he wasn?t going to stand around much longer. I pointed him out to my nephew and told him to shoot. Then, I decided to get ready so I could back him up in case he missed. Before I knew it, my instinct had kicked in and I raised my rifle and pulled the trigger in one fluid motion. The piercing crack of the cap exploding shattered the silence and the monster buck, along with his bigger companions, bounded out of sight on a different hidden escape route from the boxed canyon.
?What the heck just happened?? I said to myself.
Sure, I didn't give my nephew much of a chance to shoot. I told myself he just needed to get faster and that would come with time. It's a good character-building experience for him. He has plenty of years of hunting in front of him. Nobody ever waited around for me to shoot when I was his age. Deep down inside, however, I knew my muley addiction was out of control.
More importantly, I couldn't believe the big buck ran off instead of dropping in his tracks as the bucks usually do when I shoot. They don't call me SureShot for nothing, you know. I quickly played through the events in mind again and recalled that the piercing crack of the cap exploding that shattered the silence wasn?t the typical thunderous boom of the muzzleloader accompanied by a cloud of smoke that normally follows my pulling of the trigger. In disbelief, I realized my gun had misfired. How could you do this to me? After all of these years of faithful performance, how could you betray me like a cheap tramp? Sure, it had been raining and wet for most of the hunt, but I had taken good care of you. I protected you!
One of my secrets to success is that I never let myself get down. Success is 90% in your head, and that's one thing that sets me apart from other hunters. So, I quickly put this disappointing experience behind me, put a new cap on and fired my gun into a nearby tree to make sure it would work the next time I needed it.
It turns out the next time I would need it wasn?t very far away.
The next morning would be our last day on the mountain before returning to our wonderful families. Knowing that many monster bucks are creatures of habit, we decided to go back to the same beautiful alpine bowl that we had hunted on the opening day. We were hoping that the bucks had returned to their normal routine and would be feeding in the basin at daylight.
As the sun slowly added definition and color to the grey shapes of dawn, I scanned the basin and was surprised to find absolutely nothing. Knowing there had to be a buck in the basin, I kept glassing until my eyes started to water, picking apart every twig and branch, looking for anything out of place. Finally, 5 minutes later, a nice 180 class buck materialized out of nowhere. Game on! He was way down in the bottom of this miserable hole and most hunters wouldn't have had the energy to go in after him. But, I said to myself, that's what we came here for, and away I went.
I made my way several hundred yards down the nearly vertical slope until I thought I would be in a good position for a shot. Unfortunately, once I got into this new position, I could no longer see the buck. Fortunately, even though I couldn't see the big buck, I quickly spotted another bachelor group of five bucks, including the monster 5x5 from the opening morning! Unfortunately, the bucks were out of range and just steps away from disappearing into a nasty tangle of dark timber. Fortunately, rather than feeding out of my life for good, the bucks slowly fed towards me. You can call it luck if you want?like I say, I make my own luck?but sure enough, I found myself in a familiar situation. I was perfectly concealed in a thicket of stunted pines and the wind was in my favor. The buck of my dreams was almost in range and if my luck held out, I would soon be staring down my barrel at him. Time seemed to drag on for hours as I continued to range the bucks as they closed the distance. 220 yards, 200 yards, 185 yards, 180 yards. Unfortunately, they just had one more ravine to feed through before they would be in my no questions asked kill zone. Fortunately, they made their way into the ravine. Unfortunately, when they did so, they disappeared from sight and I began to panic. Fortunately, they quickly reappeared on my side and the rangefinder indicated the big 5x5 was only 130 yards away almost directly below me. Unfortunately, the wind was now carrying my scent directly towards them and the 5x5 went on full alert. He froze and stared up the hill in my direction. I knew this was the moment. It was now or never. I leveled my gun and positioned the pin on my open sights just behind his shoulder and slowly squeezed the trigger. KA-BOOM! Fortunately, my gun didn't betray me this morning. Unfortunately, the monster buck bounded away with the rest of the bucks as if nothing had happened. Fortunately, after running full-speed for about 50 yards he missed a step. Then, as the rest of the bucks disappeared around the edge of the basin, the big buck stumbled for another step or two and then tumbled head over heals down the hill.
I got on the radio to my hunting companions and requested their help for the packout and then gathered up my gear and made my way down to my trophy.
What a beautiful buck! What a satisfying hunt! It may be an addiction, but it sure does bring a lot of joy to my life. This is what keeps me coming back for more and more and more.
Like I said, I don't really care about score. I think some of us focus too much on score instead of spending time with family and appreciating the opportunity to be in the great outdoors. But, since I know how much you care about it, I'll throw it out anyway. This big old boy is 28? wide and I rough scored him at just under 190. He?s a heck of a buck for a public land Utah muley. I think these new hunting units are working out really well. We hardly saw any other hunters during our hunt and you can already see the improvement in the quantity and quality of big bucks in the herd.
With the end of my successful Utah muzzleloader hunt, I thought my big-game hunting for the year was over. I was just getting ready to put away my rifle and dust off my shotgun to focus on some upland hunting, when my uncle called me up and told me he had a landowner deer tag in Wyoming for unit 901 and I could have it if I wanted. Knowing that this is one of the premier units in Wyoming and that the hunt would be taking place during the peak of the rut, I just couldn't turn it down. Plus, he had an extra tag so both my brother and I would be hunting together. For me, it's all about spending time with family so I was really looking forward to this hunt.
I normally like to spend at least several months scouting a new area before I hunt it. Unfortunately, I didn't have much time before this hunt to do that. Fortunately, I was able to contact the game warden and biologist in the area and get some good information from them. That, along with some help from a mighty resident hunter that lived in the unit, we felt good about our chances as we loaded up the horses and headed north for our hunt. Unfortunately, we found out once we got there that this hunt is very dependent on the weather to trigger the migration and get the big bucks out of the high country. Fortunately, a big storm was forecast to hit the area a couple of days after our arrival.
We spent the first couple of days getting acquainted with the area. We saw lots of does and smaller bucks, but nothing that made us pull the gun out of the scabbard. We also saw lots of other wildlife like elk, bighorn sheep, bald eagles, wolves, a weasel and some giant grizzly tracks. Wow! The size of those tracks made you wonder whether you were the hunter or the hunted.
We woke up early on the morning of the third day to overcast skies and a descending layer of foggy clouds. About the time the sun should have been washing the mountainside in light, we found ourselves in a soupy, foggy mess with rain quickly turning to snow. Most other hunters would have given up at this point and returned to their warm camps to wait out the storm. But, you can't kill big bucks if you're not hunting them, so we hunched our shoulders deeper in our warm coats and pressed forward.
We covered ridge after ridge without seeing an animal, and finally decided to head back down to the lower country to see if we could get out of these clouds. As we neared the bottom of the mountain, the clouds opened up briefly and, just on the edge of visibility, we saw three deer about 250 yards away on the next ridge. Then, I noticed some more deer in the trees below them and we jumped off our horses to get a better look. Altogether, there were about 10 does in the group with a nice 3x4 and a smaller 3-point in the middle of them. Knowing that the rut was kicking in, I figured there must be a bigger buck nearby, so I started to scan the hillside around them. Sure enough, about 50 yards above the herd stood a magnificent, heavy, dark-horned 4-point with tines that reached to the sky. It didn't take long to decide that this was the type of buck we had come for.
Unfortunately, the clouds closed in around us again before we had a chance to do anything. Knowing the deer were undisturbed, we tied up the horses and hunkered under a tree to wait them out. After several hours of waiting while the snow piled up around us, and having gotten several more glimpses of the deer through the shifting clouds, I decided it was time to make some more of my own luck. I left my brother in his position while I circled up and around the canyon so I could come in from above them. I knew one of us would get the shot, and I hoped it would be my brother. I wanted to make sure he got his buck first because that's just the type of person I am.
It took me the better part of an hour to work my way through the treacherous ledges and thick downfall to get above the deer. On more than one occasion, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on edge and I had the unmistakable feeling I was being sized up by a predator at least as dangerous as me. Whatever it was, I must have intimidated it, because I didn't have any encounters and soon found myself in position a couple of hundred yards directly above the bedded deer.
I slowly started working my way down the ridge, picking apart every twig and branch, looking for anything out of place. Just as I felt like I was close enough that I should be seeing something, a muffled shot rang out from across the canyon and below me. Boom! Whoosh! Thud! Boom! The shot reverberated (that means echoed) across the hill below me. I thought I heard the distinct thud of an animal being hit by a high-powered rifle slug, and, knowing how accurate my brother is with his rifle, I figured he must have connected on the monster muley.
I continued to make my way down the hill and soon saw my brother working his way across the canyon with the horses towards my side. When we met up, this is what we found.
After taking some nice field photos of the monster buck?he's about 25? wide and scores a little under 200? for those of you that are wondering?we quickly got to work and caped him out, boned him out, loaded him on the horses and headed back to camp just as it started to get dark.
Boy, was I ever happy to see camp that night. The storm had brought with it fierce winds and frigid temperatures. Hunting in these types of conditions is more than most hunters can take. But, when you're addicted to something, you ignore all of that adversity and plow right ahead.
The blizzard continued throughout the night and into the next day. While most other hunters were curled up in front of their fireplace or snuggled into their warm beds, we didn't let the weather get the better of us or waste any of our precious time, and we spent the morning getting cleaned up and visiting the local outdoors museum. After an educational visit to the museum and getting some nice solid food in our bellies, the storm finally broke in the early afternoon and we decided to take a drive for the last couple of hours of the day to see if it had brought out any monsters. (By monsters, I mean monster muleys; not the scary monsters that live in your closet or under your bed.)
As we drove along, it was obvious that the storm had been just the ticket that we were hoping for. Around every bend in the road was another group of deer, and each group had at least one mature buck in the herd. It was absolutely crazy how many deer and how many big bucks we were seeing. Several of the deer were pushing 200 inches, but I didn't even get my gun out because all of these deer were on private property and we didn't have permission to hunt it.
However, it wasn?t long before we made our way above the private property and onto the public land we could hunt. In addition to the many deer we were seeing, I also spotted a lone wolf on one of the ridges just off the road. I would have shot it because I hate wolves, but I didn't have a wolf tag with me ($180 for a non-resident wolf tag! What is the Wyoming game and fish smoking?). That, and my brother wouldn't stop the truck. Whatever.
Anyway, we continued to drive along and spot dozens and dozens of deer, but not that special one. Then, as we watched one particular group of deer, out of the trees stepped a monster buck that made my heart go up in my throat. Even though he was almost a mile away, you could see he had a big, thick, dark-horned rack that reached well beyond his ears and up to the sky. There was no question this was a shooter. It was get-your-gun and get-up-the-hill as fast as you can.
I jumped out of the truck, grabbed my gun, my rangefinder and a handful of shells and started hoofing it up the mountain. I was only wearing my sweatshirt and had no gloves, but, despite the temperatures which had plummeted to below zero, I didn't even notice the cold and was focused 100% on getting into position to kill that buck.
I finally cut the distance to within a few hundred yards of the deer. The big buck had disappeared from view as I climbed the mountain, but I knew he was close and I slowed my pace to get my heart rate back down to a manageable count so I would be able to make the shot when the time came. After a few tense minutes of slowly easing my way up the hill, several deer spotted me and started to trot away. I looked over each one carefully, and there were several nice bucks, but not the big boy.
Then, all of a sudden, there he was! About 250 yards away and moving back up the hill with the rest of the deer towards the thick trees he had emerged from just a little earlier. No time to put the rangefinder on him! I quickly sat down and got into a solid shooting position. I settled the crosshairs on him and let everything else disappear from my conscience. It was just me and this majestic buck. Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment. Not the freezing cold, not the bitter wind, not the huge grizzly on top of the ridge. Nothing. Wait a minute! A huge grizzly on top of the ridge! Yipes! Nope. Not even he mattered. It was just me and the buck.
As the crosshairs settled just behind his front shoulder, time slowed down and everything came to almost a complete stop as I slowly squeezed the trigger.
Click.
?You have got to be kidding me,? I muttered under my breath. ?Et tu, Brute?? How could you abandon me in my greatest hour of need, you beautiful Remington 700 ADL bolt action in .270 caliber?
I double-checked to make sure the safety was off, worked open the action to make sure a shell was in the chamber and noticed the indentation where the firing pin had hit the primer. The gun had fired, but the shell hadn't exploded.
I quickly chambered another round and aimed at the big buck again.
Click.
Oh. My. Gosh. What was going on? Was this the end of the line? Was it not meant to be? Was the bear going to eat me? Would I ever see my family again?
About that time, my brother caught up to me and asked in exasperation, ?What is going on? Why aren't you shooting that buck??
?I've already shot him twice,? I calmly replied.
?No, you haven't. Your gun hasn't made a sound and he's getting away!?
I'm sure he thought I had buck fever, but a peaceful calmness had come over me and I explained to him that the gun had misfired twice. He quickly reached his hands into the gun and rubbed around the firing pin to see if he could clean it off or something. We later joked that it was like he gave the gun a quick blessing. After his quick blessing, I handed him the two defective cartridges and jacked another one into the chamber.
I put my crosshairs on the big old muley one more time and squeezed the trigger just before he was about to disappear into the thick trees at the top of the ridge. KA-BOOM! It fired! The buck reared up in the air and bucked around in circles as he tried to keep his feet. He stumbled into the edge of the trees and out of sight, but I was confident I had made a good hit and I was sure he would be dead in a moment.
My brother went back down the mountain to get a backpack and the gear we would need to bone him out and I slowly made my way up the hill towards the buck. As I got a little closer, I saw a deer standing just inside the edge of the trees. I couldn't see his head, but my instinct told me it was my buck and he wasn?t dead yet. I moved a little closer and down the hill until I could see his head. Sure enough, his huge rack gave him away. I sat down again and proceeded to shoot him six more times. Or, I should say I aimed at him and pulled the trigger six more times, only to hear the dull click of the firing pin gently tapping the primer on the shell until the buck finally turned and disappeared deeper into the trees. Unbelievable!
In frustration, I stood up and starting walking back down the mountain. As I made my way down the hill, I saw my brother hiking back up with the backpack and gear. I waved him off and he looked at me like I had gone crazy. I made it down to him and explained that my gun must have gummed up in the frigid cold and was no good. He agreed do go down yet again and get his gun while I took the backpack back up the hill and got on his trail.
30 minutes later, we were standing in the same place I had last seen the huge buck with a new gun in my hands. There were lots of deer tracks mixed together, but there was a faint blood trail that helped us pick his tracks apart from the rest. We slowly started to follow the trail through the thick trees as it wound its way up over the top of the hill and onto the other side. There were several spots where he had stopped and left a big pool of blood, but other than that, the blood was pretty sparse. After a couple of hundred yards, we found a bed where he had laid down and left a huge pool of blood. Then, another 30 yards later, another bed. Then, another 20 yards, another bed. He was obviously hurt pretty badly and I felt like we were getting close.
I took another step and he exploded out from under a huge pine tree just 10 yards in front of me. He was gone just like that, but I knew the game was almost over. I quickly followed him and saw him again as he disappeared behind a bush. As I made my way towards the bush, I could see his majestic rack swaying amidst the branches. He struggled to get to his feet, but was unable to do so. I quickly put one more round into him and finished the job.
As I stared at this magnificent animal, a feeling of exhilaration and joy washed over me. I would later measure him at just under 30? wide and scoring just under 190 inches. If he wouldn't have broken off his fourth point on the one side, he would have been pushing 200.
Is there another family that's had more success than this in 2012? I think not.
Step 12: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, carry this message to others suffering from the same addictions, and to practice these principles in all your affairs.
Yes, I suffer from muley addiction. But, as I organized my thoughts for this story and thought back on all of the memories I made this year, I wonder if it's really that bad. I certainly don't know if I'm ready to change anything anytime soon.
