Poper
Member
I wormed my way off the small rise where the old disk lay and got into the shallow draw that runs north toward the Old Homestead canyon. Keeping low, I could not see the trees to the west, but I could see the tops of the trees along side the canyon wall to the north of me. A few minutes later I was standing in the edge of the trees catching my breath. Standing still along side a tree trunk I carefully looked into the canyon. Closest areas first and slowly scanning the snow covered vegetation, rocks and terrain foot by foot out as far as I could clearly see. About 100 yards in the clear areas. Nothing. No tracks, no movement, no patches of dull gray or red-brown color that don’t belong. I began walking slowly in the direction that I saw the two bucks taking care to stay within the edge of the trees so as not to be starkly outlined against a plain snowy background. Six or eight slow steps to the next tree trunk and stop. Carefully scan the areas same as before. Repeat. Ten minutes or so of this and suddenly there they were!
There! About 60 yards directly in front of me and about 10 or 20 feet below me on a well worn game trail beneath the snow that I know very well. The snow is probably 8 or 10 inches deep here. I am frozen dead still watching them walk very, very slowly. The bigger one was definitely the leader. They were about to pass by a small clump of oak brush and would be hidden from sight for a step or two. I would use that opportunity to unsling my rifle from my shoulder. There! That went well, but the leader may have caught a little movement because he has stopped and both are staring directly at me. The big guy’s head is all I can see, the remainder of his body obscured by the oak brush. Luckily, I am directly downwind from them. They continue their slow walk along the trail. Both their heads disappear behind trees at the same time. I can’t believe my luck and I take the opportunity to bring the little 788 carbine to my shoulder. The scope is set on 2x and the wide field of view makes it easy to acquire my target. They stop again. All I can see of the big buck is his rear half and his head. The rest is behind a tree trunk. I can’t stand here all day. My arms are beginning to tremble and I am afraid I might spook them. I believe I can get a spine shot about the mid point of his back and it should drop him where he stands.
BANG!
Oh, CRAP! He goes down alright. But he is tumbling down the side of the canyon! He gets himself righted and starts crawling downhill. As he comes up against a deadfall in the deep snow I place the crosshair at the base of his neck. BANG! His movements stop. I plow down the snowy slope to the buck. I have to drag him over the deadfall and down slope another 20 yards or so to the canyon floor before I can field dress him without my feet slipping out from under me. He’s a mature buck, all right! I guess him to be 5 or 6 years old. Nearly symmetrical, four full points each side, 14.5” spread between the closest points and 17.5” high. Best buck I have ever taken from this property!
After ten minutes or so, he is dressed out and the real work begins. The drag.
This canyon is pretty deep. Though I am not clear to the deepest part, I have about a ¼ mile on the horizontal and probably 200 feet vertical to go. The last 100 yards is steepest at about a 1:.75 slope. I begin the drag. I’m in no hurry. The snow is deep and he is acting like a snow plow. Ten steps and break Ten steps and break. About 60 yards into the drag and my right knee pops loudly and I collapse face first into the snow as pain shoots clear to my heel! Needless to say, my spare rifle flys off my shoulder and plows muzzle first into the snow. No harm done. My hunt this year is finished successfully.
I get to my feet thinking I must have stepped on something under the snow and grab an antler and attempt to continue my drag. Nothing doing. My right knee is trashed. It feels like the left one did two years before when I had to have orthoscopic surgery for a torn meniscus. Wonderful. I can’t drag him like this, so I pick up my rifle and head back to the cabin. Maybe someone will be able to give me a hand.
Approximately 45 minutes later I walk into the cabin, pooped. That deep snow in the mountains stuff ain’t for this old desert dweller, that’s for sure! Two out of my three companions are in the cabin and I tell my story as I limp around digging into my gear for a rope, a bottle of water and a bottle of Advil. My uncle’s friend offers to return to my deer and help drag him out, but I decline his offer as he is over 70 and has a severely separated right shoulder that is to be operated on next month. Uncle just advises that I quarter him and pack him out in four trips.
I grab a bottle of water and head back out to my buck. Every step hurts. I climb out of the cabin’s canyon and meet my cousin at the top as he is returning to the cabin.
“Is that your deer down by the Homestead?” he inquires.
“Uh, huh. Did something to my knee trying to drag him whole. Went and got my rope. Gonna try dragging him out in halves.”
“I’ll get a bite to eat and meet you on the trail with my pack frame and give you a hand.”
“That’d be great, Cuz! See you when you get there.”
I returned to my buck, halved him right where my shot took out his spine, took a turn or two around his antlers and started the drag. Small steps, frequent breaks, take my time. I’m in no hurry and don’t have a job to get back to. Crap! The drag trail up out of the Homestead canyon is blocked by deadfalls in two places. One is kind of small and I had little trouble dragging him over it after breaking away the larger branches. The other one was a real bitch because the tree was much larger and the trail is narrow with steep sides at that point. The tree had the audacity to not fall directly across the trail, but was top-downhill. That was a real tussle, but I eventually won. The rest of the trail was 10 to 20 yards at a time, rest and repeat. The stretch across the meadow between the canyons was about 250 yards more or less. More downhill than uphill, but the snow was deeper, or so it seemed. Once I started into the cabin canyon, the going was a little easier, but I had to be careful the front half of the buck didn’t knock me off my feet. He tried a couple of times and once hit me behind my right knee, knocking me down hard. Getting up hurt that knee some more. 200 yards from the cabin, the Advil wore off and that last bit was pure agony.
I left the front half lay beneath the hanging rack along side the cabin and went in for some more water and Advil. My uncle’s friend was the only one at the cabin and he helped me hang the half buck before I left to retrieve the back half. He did comment on the nice rack the buck had.
Back out to the rear half. The trail is showing significant use by this time, and I am seeing more and more deer tracks as the day progresses. The deer are really moving around now.
The rear drag was mostly uneventful, except I was constantly adjusting the rope because the butt of the deer wanted to act like a plow and would dig in no matter what I did. I was NOT about to quarter him and make another trip. I didn’t think I had the stamina built into my knee for another trip. The last 200 yards was again H-E-double hockey sticks! Man that hurt!
Uncle’s buddy was still at the cabin and helped me hang the back half. He then took off for a walk looking for a buck. I offered to help him drag it out, but privately I hoped he wouldn’t shoot anything.
I immediately skinned out the buck and then went into the cabin and took some more Advil, ate a bowl of chili and drank a bottle of water. Then I packed my gear and started loading my truck. I wasn’t able to move very fast and actually fell down more than once. But I got it loaded. As I was putting my last bag in the truck, Uncle, Cuz and Uncle’s Friend rounded the last bend of the trail on their way back to the cabin.
Believe it or not, Uncle helped load my buck into my truck and seemed surprised I was taking off right away.
“Want to miss the next weather system that is supposed to move in tonight.” I said. “They say a chance of light snow with accumulations of an inch or two. That’s what they were saying Tuesday night, too. I’m not taking that chance.”
I hit the road five minutes later.
Twenty seven hours later I was home and unloading my truck.
My knee is going to cost in excess of $7,000 to be repaired.
The appointment is set for 12/3/08. Being unemployed, this will put a maximum strain on my finances, but it has to be done. I can’t work with a bum knee.
I do get a lot of satisfaction out of finding, killing and retrieving my buck without any help. At the same time, it left me with a bitter taste in my mouth because members of my own family could have cared less about my struggle or condition. I would never think twice about helping another hunter out with a tough drag like that. Family or not, I would help without being asked.
I doubt I will return next year. If I do, it will be to have that drink with Dad that was interrupted this year. Or maybe a bunch of drinks while I tell him the story and drink in the spectacular beauty of the place that is blessed with a magnificent view of Devil’s Tower six and a half miles due west.
Here’s to you, Pop!
Poper
There! About 60 yards directly in front of me and about 10 or 20 feet below me on a well worn game trail beneath the snow that I know very well. The snow is probably 8 or 10 inches deep here. I am frozen dead still watching them walk very, very slowly. The bigger one was definitely the leader. They were about to pass by a small clump of oak brush and would be hidden from sight for a step or two. I would use that opportunity to unsling my rifle from my shoulder. There! That went well, but the leader may have caught a little movement because he has stopped and both are staring directly at me. The big guy’s head is all I can see, the remainder of his body obscured by the oak brush. Luckily, I am directly downwind from them. They continue their slow walk along the trail. Both their heads disappear behind trees at the same time. I can’t believe my luck and I take the opportunity to bring the little 788 carbine to my shoulder. The scope is set on 2x and the wide field of view makes it easy to acquire my target. They stop again. All I can see of the big buck is his rear half and his head. The rest is behind a tree trunk. I can’t stand here all day. My arms are beginning to tremble and I am afraid I might spook them. I believe I can get a spine shot about the mid point of his back and it should drop him where he stands.
BANG!
Oh, CRAP! He goes down alright. But he is tumbling down the side of the canyon! He gets himself righted and starts crawling downhill. As he comes up against a deadfall in the deep snow I place the crosshair at the base of his neck. BANG! His movements stop. I plow down the snowy slope to the buck. I have to drag him over the deadfall and down slope another 20 yards or so to the canyon floor before I can field dress him without my feet slipping out from under me. He’s a mature buck, all right! I guess him to be 5 or 6 years old. Nearly symmetrical, four full points each side, 14.5” spread between the closest points and 17.5” high. Best buck I have ever taken from this property!
After ten minutes or so, he is dressed out and the real work begins. The drag.
This canyon is pretty deep. Though I am not clear to the deepest part, I have about a ¼ mile on the horizontal and probably 200 feet vertical to go. The last 100 yards is steepest at about a 1:.75 slope. I begin the drag. I’m in no hurry. The snow is deep and he is acting like a snow plow. Ten steps and break Ten steps and break. About 60 yards into the drag and my right knee pops loudly and I collapse face first into the snow as pain shoots clear to my heel! Needless to say, my spare rifle flys off my shoulder and plows muzzle first into the snow. No harm done. My hunt this year is finished successfully.
I get to my feet thinking I must have stepped on something under the snow and grab an antler and attempt to continue my drag. Nothing doing. My right knee is trashed. It feels like the left one did two years before when I had to have orthoscopic surgery for a torn meniscus. Wonderful. I can’t drag him like this, so I pick up my rifle and head back to the cabin. Maybe someone will be able to give me a hand.
Approximately 45 minutes later I walk into the cabin, pooped. That deep snow in the mountains stuff ain’t for this old desert dweller, that’s for sure! Two out of my three companions are in the cabin and I tell my story as I limp around digging into my gear for a rope, a bottle of water and a bottle of Advil. My uncle’s friend offers to return to my deer and help drag him out, but I decline his offer as he is over 70 and has a severely separated right shoulder that is to be operated on next month. Uncle just advises that I quarter him and pack him out in four trips.
I grab a bottle of water and head back out to my buck. Every step hurts. I climb out of the cabin’s canyon and meet my cousin at the top as he is returning to the cabin.
“Is that your deer down by the Homestead?” he inquires.
“Uh, huh. Did something to my knee trying to drag him whole. Went and got my rope. Gonna try dragging him out in halves.”
“I’ll get a bite to eat and meet you on the trail with my pack frame and give you a hand.”
“That’d be great, Cuz! See you when you get there.”
I returned to my buck, halved him right where my shot took out his spine, took a turn or two around his antlers and started the drag. Small steps, frequent breaks, take my time. I’m in no hurry and don’t have a job to get back to. Crap! The drag trail up out of the Homestead canyon is blocked by deadfalls in two places. One is kind of small and I had little trouble dragging him over it after breaking away the larger branches. The other one was a real bitch because the tree was much larger and the trail is narrow with steep sides at that point. The tree had the audacity to not fall directly across the trail, but was top-downhill. That was a real tussle, but I eventually won. The rest of the trail was 10 to 20 yards at a time, rest and repeat. The stretch across the meadow between the canyons was about 250 yards more or less. More downhill than uphill, but the snow was deeper, or so it seemed. Once I started into the cabin canyon, the going was a little easier, but I had to be careful the front half of the buck didn’t knock me off my feet. He tried a couple of times and once hit me behind my right knee, knocking me down hard. Getting up hurt that knee some more. 200 yards from the cabin, the Advil wore off and that last bit was pure agony.
I left the front half lay beneath the hanging rack along side the cabin and went in for some more water and Advil. My uncle’s friend was the only one at the cabin and he helped me hang the half buck before I left to retrieve the back half. He did comment on the nice rack the buck had.
Back out to the rear half. The trail is showing significant use by this time, and I am seeing more and more deer tracks as the day progresses. The deer are really moving around now.
The rear drag was mostly uneventful, except I was constantly adjusting the rope because the butt of the deer wanted to act like a plow and would dig in no matter what I did. I was NOT about to quarter him and make another trip. I didn’t think I had the stamina built into my knee for another trip. The last 200 yards was again H-E-double hockey sticks! Man that hurt!
Uncle’s buddy was still at the cabin and helped me hang the back half. He then took off for a walk looking for a buck. I offered to help him drag it out, but privately I hoped he wouldn’t shoot anything.
I immediately skinned out the buck and then went into the cabin and took some more Advil, ate a bowl of chili and drank a bottle of water. Then I packed my gear and started loading my truck. I wasn’t able to move very fast and actually fell down more than once. But I got it loaded. As I was putting my last bag in the truck, Uncle, Cuz and Uncle’s Friend rounded the last bend of the trail on their way back to the cabin.
Believe it or not, Uncle helped load my buck into my truck and seemed surprised I was taking off right away.
“Want to miss the next weather system that is supposed to move in tonight.” I said. “They say a chance of light snow with accumulations of an inch or two. That’s what they were saying Tuesday night, too. I’m not taking that chance.”
I hit the road five minutes later.
Twenty seven hours later I was home and unloading my truck.
My knee is going to cost in excess of $7,000 to be repaired.
The appointment is set for 12/3/08. Being unemployed, this will put a maximum strain on my finances, but it has to be done. I can’t work with a bum knee.
I do get a lot of satisfaction out of finding, killing and retrieving my buck without any help. At the same time, it left me with a bitter taste in my mouth because members of my own family could have cared less about my struggle or condition. I would never think twice about helping another hunter out with a tough drag like that. Family or not, I would help without being asked.
I doubt I will return next year. If I do, it will be to have that drink with Dad that was interrupted this year. Or maybe a bunch of drinks while I tell him the story and drink in the spectacular beauty of the place that is blessed with a magnificent view of Devil’s Tower six and a half miles due west.
Here’s to you, Pop!
Poper
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