It was 1 a.m. when my phone started ringing. As I awoke to answer, the smell of smoke had my immediate attention. It was my boss calling, “There’s a huge fire, and it’s coming down the canyon towards town.” By morning, it was one of the largest and most devastating fires in California's history. Most of Napa, Sonoma, and Mendocino counties were on fire. I was nine days away from my Idaho hunting trip, and my truck was packed for all the wrong reasons. My family and I were on evacuation alert from the ongoing natural disaster. The fires were raging all around us, and we were unsure of our future. I decided to send my family with relatives in an area that was not affected by the fires and smoke. Once my family was safe, I couldn’t help but think of my upcoming hunting trip and whether or not I would be going. I was having some survivor’s guilt because so many people I knew lost everything. Fortunately, the fire missed us that night, but for so many, it didn’t. The devastation in the area was truly horrific.
Like most hunters, my fall hunting trip is on my mind all year. However, I struggled to make the decision to leave in such an uncertain time. I knew my decision would be made based on the containment of the fire and the safety of my home and loved ones. As the days went by and the firefighters got a better handle on the fires, hope was returning that my trip might still be on. Ultimately with the support of my family and some harassment from my buddies, I was on my way to Idaho. Little did I know the decision to go would be one of the best I had ever made.
As my dad, my two buddies, and I arrived in deer camp, we were struck with the grim reality that another natural disaster had occurred. The winterkill of the deer herd in our area was one of the worst in recent memory. Stories and pictures from residents only confirmed our fears that this was going to be a tough year to hunt. In a typical year, it wouldn’t be uncommon to see 20 deer a day with a few of them being bucks.
It was day five into the hunt, and I had seen a total of 10 deer - 8 does and 2 small bucks. My legs were destroyed from the mountainous terrain and the miles I had put on them. It was public land hunting, and I was raised to hunt off the beaten path. My dad always taught me to get away from the roads and trails and I would be rewarded. Although we were not seeing many deer, spirits were high because we were in beautiful country and having a great time. I decided to give myself a day of rest and do a little fishing. After catching a few nice fish and a little R&R, I was excited for the last few days of the hunt. They were traditionally the best of the season, and I knew the hunting was going to get better.
It was two hours before daylight the next morning and I was putting my pack on in the bitter cold. I wanted to be on the ridge before sunup and had a long vertical climb ahead of me. Although a big breakfast and a warm bed sounded better than the hike I was in for, the thought of a big buck started my legs moving up the mountain.
About halfway up, I jumped a few deer but couldn’t see what they were. Typically, I would have just kept marching up the mountain, but being toward the end of the season, something told me to wait. I had a group of deer on the hillside and wanted to see what they were, so I stood there in the dark for about 30 minutes. As the sun began to rise and the light got better, I started to glass my hillside. Nothing! The deer that I had jumped were nowhere to be found, so I put my head down and started hustling up the mountain. After 100 yards and my legs and lungs being on fire, I stopped to take a breather. I just happened to glance over the small ridge I had been walking up. There was a buck 200 yards away. Above him about 50 yards stood 10 does, all heading up the canyon. It was the group I had jumped earlier in the dark, but they had slipped into a small ravine that was out of my sight line. I couldn’t tell how big he was, but I knew he had potential to be a shooter. As I laid my bag down to get a steady shot and better look at him, he slipped away over another ridge and out of sight. He wasn’t running, but he knew there was something wrong. He was headed up and so was I. I went another 100 yards up the mountain and crossed through the canyon to the ridge he was heading up. My heart was pounding, and I was out of breath. Ten yards before looking into the next canyon, I stopped and gathered myself in anticipation of him being just over the other side.
As I slowly crept over the ridgeline, my heart was pounding through my chest. As I looked into the next draw, a doe jumped 40 yards in front of me. That had my adrenaline going even higher. As my eyes followed her path up the hill, I saw a group of deer on the opposite side of the draw. There he was, 250 yards away standing broadside and staring right at me. I could easily tell his rack was outside his ears and he was a shooter. I knew he wasn’t going to stick around long enough for me to get a better look at him, so I threw my bag down and got ready. As I laid my rifle down across my pack, everything seemed to line up perfectly. I looked through the scope, and the crosshairs were already dead solid behind the shoulder. I clicked the safety off, gently laid my finger across the trigger, and began to squeeze. My .300 Weatherby echoed through the canyon and surprised me, as it should have. As I refocused my eye through the scope and cycled another round, I could see he was down and the 180 grain bullet had immediately done its job.
As I sat there on the ridgeline, replaying all the events that had just happened, I realized this deer never gave me enough time to really get a good look at him. In hindsight, I’m glad I didn’t get a chance to see how nice he really was. The hunt may have ended completely different had I known what lay across the canyon. As I walked up to him, it was the opposite of ground shrinkage. He had double cheaters and was 32 1/2" across them! He was the buck-of-a-lifetime.
I would like to thank my dad, Ed Bischofberger, for teaching me to hunt and the outdoor lifestyle. Thank you to my buddies, Robert Brown and Derrick Parrish, for helping me pack this buck out. A huge thank you to all the firefighters and first responders who helped save so many lives and continue to save lives across our great country!
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