- Joined
- Jan 28, 2003
- Messages
- 13,341
All in all I’d put in a solid two weeks of hunting mule deer with my bow this year. Those two weeks were interspersed with work obligations and a quick five day rifle deer hunt in a neighboring state. I started chasing mule deer in my home state in early October. In that time I’d spotted and tried on multiple occasions for a buck that if I’d been successful on would have scored right at the top of the all time B&C record book.
Unfortunately I’d pushed that massive old buck to hard and he departed the country or at least went purely nocturnal. It was in the search for the bruiser that I ran across a very respectable, mature mule deer buck. With time running out for me to hunt and having spent an inordinate amount of time away from home and family I decided to alter my expectations and try and give the buck at hand a try.
The wind wasn’t great but at least it was a crosswind and I was stuck with it as my only approach due to terrain demanded a crosswind stalk. The approach was short consisting of several hundred yards of crouching and a bit of crawling to the opening where I’d spotted the deer from the road. As the opening came into view the buck was standing in the middle and I quickly ranged him at 53 yards.
I came to full draw and stepped from behind the pinnon tree that I was using for cover. One of the buck’s harem of does immediately locked on to me but the buck was busy nosing another doe. My 50 yard pin settled just behind his shoulder and I smoothly released the arrow. I watched the orange and white fletching disappear into his ribs about 12” back and bit higher than I was aiming. I heard the broad head make its signature “Schnick” sound as it entered. The buck spun and mule kicked just as he disappeared into the tangle of juniper and pinnon that he’d called home his whole life. “DANG IT!” I thought, I’d forgot to hold for the stiff crosswind that was blowing. In any case I was using a very wide cutting, fixed blade Ramcat broadhead and was fairly sure that I got lungs.
After the shot I placed my bow on the ground, mentally marked where the buck was standing at the shot and sat down to let things settle for 30 minutes as is my custom after arrowing an animal that I didn’t specifically see go down. In those 30 minutes I reflected on the days I’d spent in the field. The sunrises and sunsets, the deer I’d glassed, the failed stalks and the beautiful smell of the high desert terrain, the fresh scent of pinnon and juniper blowing in the wind. The brilliant blue sky juxtaposed against the greens of the high desert pinnon and juniper forest. The moment brought me back to my youth growing up and hunting in Northern NM.
The 30 minutes went by and I proceeded to the spot where the buck had been standing. And proceeded to look for my arrow. I looked behind where the buck had been and couldn’t find it. I bent down to look under some low branches and a glint of orange caught me eye.
The arrow had passed through the buck and stuck into the pinnon tree he’d been standing in front of. And the arrow looked good as it was coated in now dry pinkish red blood. The sign of a vital hit.
I was able to follow the bucks tracks in the soft earth and was almost immediately treated to a very good blood trail.
Unfortunately I’d pushed that massive old buck to hard and he departed the country or at least went purely nocturnal. It was in the search for the bruiser that I ran across a very respectable, mature mule deer buck. With time running out for me to hunt and having spent an inordinate amount of time away from home and family I decided to alter my expectations and try and give the buck at hand a try.
The wind wasn’t great but at least it was a crosswind and I was stuck with it as my only approach due to terrain demanded a crosswind stalk. The approach was short consisting of several hundred yards of crouching and a bit of crawling to the opening where I’d spotted the deer from the road. As the opening came into view the buck was standing in the middle and I quickly ranged him at 53 yards.
I came to full draw and stepped from behind the pinnon tree that I was using for cover. One of the buck’s harem of does immediately locked on to me but the buck was busy nosing another doe. My 50 yard pin settled just behind his shoulder and I smoothly released the arrow. I watched the orange and white fletching disappear into his ribs about 12” back and bit higher than I was aiming. I heard the broad head make its signature “Schnick” sound as it entered. The buck spun and mule kicked just as he disappeared into the tangle of juniper and pinnon that he’d called home his whole life. “DANG IT!” I thought, I’d forgot to hold for the stiff crosswind that was blowing. In any case I was using a very wide cutting, fixed blade Ramcat broadhead and was fairly sure that I got lungs.
After the shot I placed my bow on the ground, mentally marked where the buck was standing at the shot and sat down to let things settle for 30 minutes as is my custom after arrowing an animal that I didn’t specifically see go down. In those 30 minutes I reflected on the days I’d spent in the field. The sunrises and sunsets, the deer I’d glassed, the failed stalks and the beautiful smell of the high desert terrain, the fresh scent of pinnon and juniper blowing in the wind. The brilliant blue sky juxtaposed against the greens of the high desert pinnon and juniper forest. The moment brought me back to my youth growing up and hunting in Northern NM.
The 30 minutes went by and I proceeded to the spot where the buck had been standing. And proceeded to look for my arrow. I looked behind where the buck had been and couldn’t find it. I bent down to look under some low branches and a glint of orange caught me eye.
The arrow had passed through the buck and stuck into the pinnon tree he’d been standing in front of. And the arrow looked good as it was coated in now dry pinkish red blood. The sign of a vital hit.
I was able to follow the bucks tracks in the soft earth and was almost immediately treated to a very good blood trail.
Last edited:
