Charger440
02-13-2009, 03:41 PM
Highway 1- Region 3
I drove out of the roadside motel at 6:30a.m. to scout a logging slash that I suspected was a coastal blacktail feeding area. Solo, no rifle; just my pack with lunch. The season opens for 4-points the next day.
Walked about 30 minutes up the steep path. Hawks were hunting small birds, diving through openings in trees, flushing them out and in hot pursuit. Fortunately, it had rained intermittantly during the week; bear, deer and coyote tracks crossed the path frequently, I was on to something good here.
The path terminated at a slash that was about 400 yards long and 175 yards wide with a tree patch in the middle. Berry bushes and forage plants were thick and perfect condition. Yep, classic 3rd year slash. I walked the perimeter and found deer droppings, tracks, and what appeared to be saplings that had been rubbed recently. I retraced my steps and headed back to the car with my hunting plan ready for the next day.
I had two rifles at the motel, a .270 Win chambered Weatherby with a 3X9 scope sited at 200 yards and a .308 M14. I chose the M-14, thinking it would be ideal for close quarter shots in the slash and a quick bear piece if required. I parked the car and loaded the clip. For safety, I did not chamber a round. It was a warm day and I overheated quickly humping up that path. I make it a habit to rest for a few minutes, put on a crawling sneek and chamber a round with the safety on but for some reason I kept walking at full steam to the opening, skylining myself. Big mistake!
Yes, in middle of the slash was four mature bucks! Two were Rocky Mountain mule deer, grey coated and well muscled with outstanding racks. The largest I would estimate at six years and the smaller at 4 years, both four pointers. The two blacktails, rusty brown both three pointers. All were in close association and feeding together. They looked at me. I hit the dirt immediately, cursing my stupidity and crawled behind an alder. To my astonishment they did'nt bolt but kept a slow browsing pace that took them down to the base of the slash. The wind died and it was quiet. I pulled out my bino's, scanned and located the largest muley about 125 yards off. He had stopped and was starring at me. We played hide-n-seek for about 10 minutes. I raised my rifle for a shot, eased off the safety and was going to take my deer of a life-time. My heart was pounding. Then I remembered. Nothin in the chamber. Meathead of the month award issued. An m-14 has a spring loaded rotational bolt. It makes a big KACHUNK when loaded. How long were these deer gonna give me! I had to commit now, so pushed the rifle up on a branch, grabbed the bolt and released it. I'm ashamed to say it jumped out of my hands, I bobbled it and it slid down the bank!
Still,they refused to run! I went to retrieve it and had to expose myself. That was the last straw. 25 minutes had now passed. The deer had enough of my buffoonery. Three leaps and all were gone into the trees. After seeing their rear ends departing, I blew a fuse. Yelled things I can't repeat here. I went back to the motel and replayed the day. No excuses, I #$@%$#$up
Next day, I got a mule deer in a different location with my .270. But, it was nowhere near the size and majesty of the monster buck.
Cheers
I drove out of the roadside motel at 6:30a.m. to scout a logging slash that I suspected was a coastal blacktail feeding area. Solo, no rifle; just my pack with lunch. The season opens for 4-points the next day.
Walked about 30 minutes up the steep path. Hawks were hunting small birds, diving through openings in trees, flushing them out and in hot pursuit. Fortunately, it had rained intermittantly during the week; bear, deer and coyote tracks crossed the path frequently, I was on to something good here.
The path terminated at a slash that was about 400 yards long and 175 yards wide with a tree patch in the middle. Berry bushes and forage plants were thick and perfect condition. Yep, classic 3rd year slash. I walked the perimeter and found deer droppings, tracks, and what appeared to be saplings that had been rubbed recently. I retraced my steps and headed back to the car with my hunting plan ready for the next day.
I had two rifles at the motel, a .270 Win chambered Weatherby with a 3X9 scope sited at 200 yards and a .308 M14. I chose the M-14, thinking it would be ideal for close quarter shots in the slash and a quick bear piece if required. I parked the car and loaded the clip. For safety, I did not chamber a round. It was a warm day and I overheated quickly humping up that path. I make it a habit to rest for a few minutes, put on a crawling sneek and chamber a round with the safety on but for some reason I kept walking at full steam to the opening, skylining myself. Big mistake!
Yes, in middle of the slash was four mature bucks! Two were Rocky Mountain mule deer, grey coated and well muscled with outstanding racks. The largest I would estimate at six years and the smaller at 4 years, both four pointers. The two blacktails, rusty brown both three pointers. All were in close association and feeding together. They looked at me. I hit the dirt immediately, cursing my stupidity and crawled behind an alder. To my astonishment they did'nt bolt but kept a slow browsing pace that took them down to the base of the slash. The wind died and it was quiet. I pulled out my bino's, scanned and located the largest muley about 125 yards off. He had stopped and was starring at me. We played hide-n-seek for about 10 minutes. I raised my rifle for a shot, eased off the safety and was going to take my deer of a life-time. My heart was pounding. Then I remembered. Nothin in the chamber. Meathead of the month award issued. An m-14 has a spring loaded rotational bolt. It makes a big KACHUNK when loaded. How long were these deer gonna give me! I had to commit now, so pushed the rifle up on a branch, grabbed the bolt and released it. I'm ashamed to say it jumped out of my hands, I bobbled it and it slid down the bank!
Still,they refused to run! I went to retrieve it and had to expose myself. That was the last straw. 25 minutes had now passed. The deer had enough of my buffoonery. Three leaps and all were gone into the trees. After seeing their rear ends departing, I blew a fuse. Yelled things I can't repeat here. I went back to the motel and replayed the day. No excuses, I #$@%$#$up
Next day, I got a mule deer in a different location with my .270. But, it was nowhere near the size and majesty of the monster buck.
Cheers