happen. I’ m not sure if she has some special ability to foreshadow events, or if she is qualified for writing sufficiently ambiguous fortune cookie fortunes. Either way, it kept things in perspective. I went to sleep that night content, needing nothing more than to get up in the morning, watch the sun rise, and get out safely.
It was cold that night and I couldn’ t wait to climb out of my frozen tomb. I’ m sure that caloric deprivation and dehydration didn’ t help keep me any warmer. I woke up and walked to a nearby lookout, listening to elk bugle as dark turned to light. I peaked over the edge of a small cliff band and found 15 or so deer feeding with a record-book forked horn in the group. I glassed other canyons and hillsides, with deer almost everywhere. I spotted a pair of bucks at 1,000- 1,200 yards out. One of the bucks had a tall and wide frame but from what I could tell, not much going on in between. The other buck didn’ t look to be overly wide or tall, but definitely looked heavy, and there was some trashy looking features, but nothing I could really make out other than a sticker or two coming off his left side. They were in full morning sun and feeding their way toward a bedding area in some aspen. I had to get a closer look. I threw my gear in my pack and made tracks. I raced around the upper end of a canyon and up to the ridge on the other side.
I came over the ridge and spotted the bucks. I found the trashy buck in my glasses and knew immediately that he was the one. I had never seen so many tines on a mule deer before. I initially ranged him at 500 yards, but he was still working in my direction. I set up my pack and took a solid shooting position. He was within 20 yards of the trees when I ranged him at 420 yards. I squeezed the trigger and heard the report of a hit. The buck stumbled and then ran down into the trees while other deer scattered in every direction. I worked my way into the trees not knowing how well I’ d hit him. He jumped up and a quick cleanup shot finalized things. A moment later I was admiring the most unique deer I had ever seen in the field, up close.
The buck wasn’ t at all what I had hoped to harvest, he was better. I thought it funny how I ended up harvesting this buck as soon as harvesting didn’ t seem as important as appreciating the fullness of the journey. I’ d like to say that I smiled through the entire pack out, but that would be a lie, it was rough. I was glad to get back to the truck, food, and a cold beer. It turned out that the journey and experiences were really what it was all about. Although, it sure does help to look up on the wall and have that special deer to remind me of those experiences.
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