The mountain air was sharp and cold as I adjusted the hood of my Sitka camo and scanned the high alpine terrain. I crouched low in the grass, bow resting steady in my hand. My Mathews Lift was dialed in, an Easton Full Metal Jacket arrow tipped with a Beast broadhead nocked and ready.
The weeks of hard work had come down to this moment. It all started in early July when my team and I received the first trail cam photo of the buck. The picture was enough to stop any bowhunter in their tracks – a massive, clean-typical mule deer, antlers rising tall and wide with incredible symmetry. A true monarch of the mountains. From that moment, I committed to the hunt, spending endless days scouting and learning every inch of the terrain the buck called home.
By mid-August, the buck disappeared. For weeks, I searched, glassing ridge after ridge, turning over every rock, and covering miles of unforgiving country. With no sign of the deer, I began to think the worst. Then, the evening before opening day, as the last light faded over the ridgeline, I spotted him. The monarch had returned. He was alive and moving, his towering antlers unmistakable even in the dim light. The sight of the buck reignited my focus.
Before dawn the next morning, I was in position, tucked into the shadow of the rolling terrain, my heart pounding with anticipation. The minutes stretched into hours as the sunlight crept higher, and then I saw him. The buck stepped into view with his every move slow and deliberate. Even from a distance, the rack was massive, the kind of antlers every bowhunter dreams of. I calmed my breathing and waited for the right shot. At 30 yards, the buck paused. The wind was perfect, and the moment of truth had arrived. Drawing my Mathews Lift, I settled the pin just behind the shoulder and released. The arrow flew true, striking with a solid thwack. The buck bolted but slowed within seconds, stumbling and dropping in the high grass.
I approached the downed buck with reverence, the magnitude of the moment settling in. The rack was everything the trail cam photo promised and more – 226 inches of typical perfection, shattering the Colorado state record for a mule deer taken with a bow. It was the hunt-of-a-lifetime, not just for the size of the animal but for the journey it took to get there.
For me, a lifetime bowhunter and part of the M4 Ranch Group team, it was about more than the score. It was about the work, the grit, and the connection to the wild. The monarch wasn’t just a trophy, it was the ultimate culmination of perseverance, skill, and respect for the mountains. For bowhunters like me, this is what it’s all about.
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