More than a Means to an End
By Andrew Knight
I had been fortunate enough the last few years
to have drawn tags for other big game species in Idaho but had never been the beneficiary of a quality mule deer tag, until this year. With tag in pocket I started researching the hunt area. I had been in the unit a couple of times hiking and such but had never sized it all up critically for deer. The suggestions rolled in from friends, as several of them had experience in the area. The information was helpful no doubt, but admittedly overwhelming, as the locations that were recommended spanned the entire hunt unit, which is not small.
The tough part about drawing a good tag by yourself is that it can be difficult to recruit field companions. Such was the case for the duration of my scouting and hunting. Friends around a fire were missed during cold evenings in the mountains. Multiple weekends were spent scouting, figuring out the area in general and looking over many deer, none of which were the caliber I was hoping to find. I had lofty goals, and after six days of scouting I hadn’ t seen any bucks that demanded a return visit during the hunt.
After much anticipation opening day finally came. I had decided to hunt an area in which a local rancher told me he had seen a“ wall hanger” there several weeks prior. Without having found a deer that I was particularly interested in, I decided to pursue his tip. I had scouted the area before and had seen plenty of bucks, so I figured I’ d give it a shot. The morning came and went. I saw several bucks but nothing that raised eyebrows. I finished the last mile or two getting back to camp with a bum knee that I had sprained a couple of weeks before. The pain and immobility had me conjuring up new plans in camp, as I couldn’ t hike the country I normally do.
The next morning was spent glassing from an easily reached vantage point. I looked over three bachelor groups before spotting a lone buck that stood out from what I had seen up to that point. As I sat there glassing the buck I knew he was worth a closer look, the only problem was that I couldn’ t get any closer with my knee, and I sure as hell wouldn’ t be able to pack one out. It was then that I realized I had no business being
back in where I was with my handicap. In the interest of saving future hunts, I packed out and headed home.
I returned a couple of weeks later with plans to explore new areas. The places I was interested in looked good on maps and it would require riding several miles of single-track trail on my dirt bike with a full camp and hunting gear on my back to get there. Given the logistics of getting into this area I didn’ t anticipate that pressure would be an issue, and figured it might favor some older growth bucks compared to the more accessible areas. My knee had gotten much better but I realized that managing it would be a key aspect of my hunt. I would have to hunt smarter, not harder.
My plan was to head in late morning, hunt and camp that night, hunt the next morning and then ride back out to base camp and reassess things. I packed my backpack with the necessary provisions and hit the trail. I took my time, keeping safety at the forefront and looking over new country. Several hours later I reached a location that felt right. The camp had water and provided good access to a knob from which I could glass several high elevation basins and meadows. I set camp and hiked up the knob to check things out. The last hour or so of glassing revealed 9 or 10 bucks scattered in different locations, but nothing that incited buck fever. I
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