Originally Posted by
CReever
My passion for alpine mule deer hunting began over a decade ago when a family friend invited me out to a beautiful destination for some camping and scouting one summer. The area held abundant ungulate populations and with that, prime hunting opportunities. I had heard that early season, spot and stalk style mule deer hunting was a highlight for many mule deer addicts in the West, so, as a teenager I convinced my dad and our hunting group to try and access some of the alpine near where we camped that summer. On September 1, 2009, my brother and dad sat above a south facing chute in the alpine. To their disbelief, 16 mule deer bucks in a bachelor group fed in the early morning sun. Over the years no member of the hunting group was able to capitalize on the trophy caliber bucks that dwelt on the mountain. I missed two giants in 2010, one a towering typical 4x4 with blood stained antlers after freshly shedding its velvet on the 10th of September. The following weekend I missed another unbelievable buck, a nontypical 8x7 at long range. Although I have nothing to show for it, these experiences sparked my passion for big mule deer bucks and the stunning landscape they call home in the high country.
Years later, after researching more alpine locations and scouting in a variety of MU's, I have learned a thing or two about these amazing creatures. Numerous trail cams deployed, mineral licks established, and hours behind the glass have paid off with full freezers and life long memories. I have been fortunate to personally take and be apart of some great hunts where big mule deer bucks have been harvested. It has been truly a blessing to be physically able to mountain hunt and do what I love with my wife, family, and amazing hunting buddies. I am grateful for this!
Now that I have given you a little snapshot and backstory, here is the story of my latest hunt...
2021 Thanksgiving weekend, a weekend with years of history tied to past successes in the alpine, I headed back to a favourite hunting location for some high country action. A sudden snowstorm blanketed the mountain range on Day 1 of my hunt. It was looking promising for Day 2 as glassing mule deer in the alder is much easier with a blank, canvas backdrop. The wind was howling while I sat in an area I have nicknamed "Overwatch." I began to pick out mule deer on the steep slope, mostly bedded, avoiding the harsh conditions of the day. 6 hours later, I had glassed up three potential shooter bucks. A dark antlered, heavy and tall 4x3, a 6x5 with some unique extras, and lastly an old 3x3 with that I also would have been happy to take. Approximately 20 mule deer were glassed up with a few young bucks in the mix accompanying small groups of does. I hiked out of the drainage to investigate another area with no sign other than fresh grizzly tracks from early in the morning.
Day 3, my phone died from the cold that night so, I missed my alarm and awoke to the sun shining brightly... there went the day's first light advantage. Scrambling my gear together I hiked into a new area that I hadn't glassed the day before. In the shadows of the North-East side, I picked up 6 does and a young 4x4 buck feeding on the ridge in the sunlight. I continued to glass for another hour but knew in my gut I should start making my way over to the "Skinny Ridge" drainage. I got to the glassing knob and immediately picked up the 4x3 in the binoculars from the day before. He lay bedded higher on the hillside and tucked behind a coniferous tree, looking to the warmth of the sun. Out from the Kifaru came my Swaro spotter. I set it up without touching the tripod head to adjust the pan or tilt. When I placed my eye to the eye piece I couldn't believe my luck. Dead centre in view, lay bedded a respectable buck; a new buck I had not seen the previous day. Dark antlers and impressive mass filled my thoughts. A nice typical, a pure representation of a maturing buck. I took out the range finder and acquired my yardage, 720 yards. With much internal debate, I weighed my options. "Do I hike out and around onto his side of the drainage or do I carefully navigate the slippery rock garden and cliff bands below me to cut some of the distance across the drainage?" I thought to myself, "if I can range him at +/- 600 yards I'll let him have it." As I cautiously worked my way down the spine below "Overwatch" the buck stood from his bed and began feeding nearby. With less than ideal positions to set up for a longer range shot, I made my way down to the lowest safe zone where only mountain goats would venture beyond. I unbuckled my hip belt and chest strap, and off came my pack. The hillside I was on was so steep I couldn't possibly lay prone. I set my pack and adjusted its position to mimic shooting off bags at the range. The guide lid off my pack became my rear support while the two front pockets on the main portion of my bag acted as a perfect slot for the rifle to rest between. Again, I ranged the distance, 596 yards, -7 degree angle. "An ethical distance," I thought to myself. The Sako 300 WSM nestled into my shoulder, paired with Hornady's 200 gr ELDX would do the work required. All I had to do was steady myself and run through killing this buck. I dialled 10.25 MOA and chambered a round. I was ready.
The buck bedded back down, laying directly away from me. At times his head and neck stretched out in front of him motionless and most likely asleep in the snow. Minutes kept ticking away. The wind blew sharply across my body as I lay in the snow. "Screw it," I said, jumping up from my shooting position. I started to do squats, arm swings and anything to keep my body from freezing. I needed to keep my hands warm for the next opportunity when the buck may stand. Doubts filled my mind if I had made the correct call to stay on the opposing side from the buck. I even tried cow moose calling to see if he would get out of his bed. Barely a head shift was all the buck gave me when he heard that horny cow call from a far. To my frustration, I could see the weather changing as the day pushed on. Low lying valley cloud cover or fog was slowly moving up the mountain range and into the drainage. "Would I get a shot today?" A battlefield of the mind, from optimism to pessimism waged war within me as my patience was tested.
Two hours later with no sign or warning, up jumps the buck and to my panic I was not ready to shoot. I went to the slope, laying on my side, back behind my rifle, feet diagonally down the hill. With cloud cover sweeping up the valley on the far side of the drainage, and an opposing cross wind on my side I placed the crosshairs on the buck when he went broadside below his bed. Not needing to compensate for the wind, I squeezed. Far more rushed than I hoped the scenario would play out but nonetheless confident and steady. I was able to get back on the buck immediately after the shot but unsure if I had made a good hit. The buck stutter stepped and a blanket of fog enveloped him. "No follow up shot! Dang!" Now the roller coaster of mental instability began. After what felt like an eternity the fog lightened enough to get a blurry visual of spot where the buck had been standing. I waited. And waited. Not clear enough to see anything. I tried to go down and across the drainage but turned around at the fear of my imminent death. InReach's aren't meant for being a dumb bum. Too steep. Too sketchy. Up I went to "Overwatch" where I hoped the steeper angle would help me locate blood and tracks on the snow or the buck himself if I had missed. Eventually the ride was almost over. The sun peaked out and like a spotlight on the area he was in, no more than a yard from where he was last standing the glistening left antler shone though the alder branches. I zoomed into 60 power and confirmed this was indeed my buck laying piled up in the alder. What a relief!
Out came the InReach, and the classic "BUCK DOWN" message was sent off to all the boys and my wife. Thankfully, my dad, my most loyal hunting partner was on his way to meet me already to assist with the meat processing and packing. The real work had begun. Quartering, deboning, and a heavy pack out to boot. In his late 50's my old man still gives it his all. Most of the weight is in my pack now butI wouldn't have it any other way. It's a blessing to hunt with my father and to know a man so willing to drop what he is doing to help whenever, wherever. As with all alpine hunts, the adventure is as rewarding as coming out heavy. I am already looking forward to what 2022 has in store, to share with others the experiences that I have come to love with the mule deer of the alpine.
Side Note:
I practiced more at the range this year than ever before, tested and verified impacts out to 955 yards and put the time in to be a sub moa shooter from a solid rest in multiple shooting scenarios. My rifle shoots 11/16ths of an inch groups at 100 yards consistently with factory Hornady 200 gr. ELDX bullets. The buck I killed in this story was hit, high double lung, right behind the shoulder breaking a rib or two on each side, leaving no more than a nickel sized exit hole in the hide. The ELDX bullet is preforming well for me at all distances.
Good luck to y'all and happy hunting!
CReever
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