The morning of Saturday, September 10th, the opening day of Colorado’s muzzleloader deer hunt, found me alone and fogged in in the high country of a second choice unit looking for a mule deer buck that needed to be closer than 30 yards away in order for me to see it. That wasn’t where I was expecting to be. I was planning on being in the backcountry of a premium Colorado unit with a mule deer tag in my pocket and my brother-in-law along to help. However, between point creep and bad luck, I did not draw the tag and my brother- in-law blew out the rotator cuff in his shoulder a few weeks before the hunt. Thankfully, I had drawn my second choice in an area I had elk hunted a few times 25 years prior. With my work schedule finally being flexible enough that I could take a full week off in the fall, I decided to make the best of it and go it alone. My son, Dan, was planning on joining me about halfway through the hunt, so I was going to be pretty selective until he got there.
When I left the truck in the morning, it didn’t look good. The fog was just as thick as it was the evening before, but I figured I wouldn’t see anything sitting at camp, so I hiked in about three quarters of a mile to a drainage I had hunted a few times in the past. About two hours after sunrise, the sun started to burn off a bit of the fog and I could occasionally see the bottom of the basin. About another hour passed and it had cleared up, but I had yet to see anything. Suddenly, I spotted two mule deer bucks that seemed to appear out of nowhere, but they simply had browsed out of a small crease in the topography. The bigger one had me intrigued. At first, I figured I would pass on him, but I took a video with my phone through the spotting scope and after viewing it and taking a closer look through the scope, I decided he was one I should pursue.
After a while, I watched the buck bed in the sun as it was still pretty cold out. I knew he wouldn’t stay there long, but he was in a very stalkable location and was bedded up against a large expanse of six-foot tall willows. I was concerned that once he moved to his final bed for the day he would be lost in the sea of willows, so I started my stalk. I had only made it about 100 yards, moving very slowly as I was on an exposed hillside, when he got up and wandered into the willows. I was afraid he might be gone for good.
There was a good, consistent wind coming up the valley. My plan shifted to getting into a location such that I would be in range with my iron-sighted muzzleloader when he would hopefully emerge to feed in the alpine meadow. As I was moving into location, I spotted him! He was about 40 yards deep into the willows in a tunnel-like opening. He was about 400 yards away. If everything was perfect (a good rest, no wind, and a good sight picture), I was confident with my muzzleloader out to 150 yards. There appeared to be a rock outcropping about that far away from him, and that became my target to stalk to.
I was able to get to my rock pretty quickly as once I got out of line with the “tunnel,” I was out of sight of the buck. As I had hoped, the rock was lined up with the tunnel and I spotted the buck. However, I had misjudged the distance as he was 170 yards away, just beyond my self-imposed limit. To get any closer, I would be completely exposed, and I did not want to spook the buck out of the drainage. If I didn’t get him today, Dan and I could always find him later in the week. The wind was steady up the canyon, so I decided to wait it out at my rock and see what happened.
After about an hour, the buck got up and started feeding in the willows. Unfortunately, he didn’t move any closer to me. Sometimes he would be in sight, and other times, I wouldn’t see him for three or four minutes. After about half an hour, he returned to the same bed and laid back down, again in plain sight from my position. Just as he was laying down, the wind shifted and I felt a breeze on the back of my neck. Sure enough, the buck was bedded for no more than five seconds when he stood up again, staring in my direction. I figured the gig was up and he was going to be gone any second.
By this time, the Colorado sun was lighting up the whole valley. The buck was in the shadows and appeared as a black silhouette against a bright sunlight green background. Through my many practice sessions with my muzzleloader, I had become keenly aware of how critical a good contrast in the sight picture was for lining up my iron sights. This silhouetted deer was a better sight picture than I had ever practiced with. I thought with that visual contrast, even at this extended range of 170 yards, I might be able to shoot this deer. I rested the forearm of the gun over my big rock and leaned my upper body against another neighboring boulder and had a bona fide “rock solid” rest. I could clearly see the deer through my sights, and my “wiggle” zone was much smaller than his vital zone. Confidently, I thought, I can shoot this deer! I was amazed that the deer was still there as 30 seconds had probably passed since he had stood up. He continued to stare in my direction. I lined up my sight just underneath the silhouette of his back and squeezed the trigger. He appeared to stagger at the shot and ran off. I reloaded and watched the nearby hillsides for the next half hour. Nothing appeared, so I made my way down to where I had shot him. I found his bed and looked closely for blood or hair. Nothing! I started to question my confidence in the shot, but I only had to take a couple of steps in the direction he ran for it to be restored. Blood and lots of it! A couple more steps and I spotted him dead about 20 yards from where I had shot him. The shot had found its mark right through the boiler room.
I took a few pictures and then the work started. I got him quartered up and in game bags and determined I was going to have to come back for a second load. I really wasn’t expecting to shoot a deer the first morning, so I had just worn my daypack, rookie mistake. I hung the quarters in a grove of stunted spruce trees and draped them with my sweaty long underwear, hoping to deter any hungry bears. I then headed out with a bag of loose meat. I returned the next morning with my big pack to retrieve four quarters and the antlers, a heavy load but not unmanageable. The hike out was about one and a half miles with about 500 feet of elevation to gain, so as far as pack outs go, it wasn’t too difficult.
I decided to continue to “hunt” with my camera the rest of the week. Every morning and evening found me above timberline half a mile to two miles in from the road. I’m glad I kept “hunting” as I continued to have great experiences. I had a herd of elk at 150 yards with a 330" bull and a few other satellites. I saw a 40" wide bull moose at 30 yards as well as a 300 lb. black bear. When Dan arrived, we backpacked further into the backcountry and saw a couple herds of mountain goat, one of which had a nice billy in it. We also saw a herd of 19 bighorn sheep rams with two trophies in the group.
Like they say at Huntin’ Fool, just go hunting! Even though I didn’t draw my premium unit, I had a great hunt. I got a nice buck and had encounters with nearly all the big game species the lower 48 has to offer.
Login