I have a secret, one I haven’t quite been ready to share with everyone. After eight years of marriage and a weekend turkey hunt, my husband, Randy, finally got me hooked. I wanted to learn to hunt. I completed my hunter safety course, shot a turkey in New Mexico, and was finally ready to start putting in for the big game hunts in Utah. Then, we got pregnant. After buying points for five years and waiting for my two baby boys to get a bit older, it was finally my turn. We were going to enter the draw for the Utah fall hunts.
My husband’s best friend, Gary, had the brilliant idea of putting me in for the muzzleloader deer hunt as I had accrued 5 preference points and would have a high probability of drawing a tag. Randy and Gary applied for the general rifle season. This freed up their time so they could be my guides without also having a tag to notch.
The week of the hunt, I was a nervous wreck. I took three days off work so we could drive out and set up camp the night before opening day. Tuesday evening, we got everything loaded up in the truck and headed off. Randy and I met Gary at the gas station on the edge of town, filled up the tank, and grabbed some tacos. About an hour away from home, I finally felt the stress melt away. My mind let go of all those pesky details of what I had left behind at work and home. I was finally doing it. It was my turn.
We drove the final distance to our campsite and started setting up the tents and unloading the four-wheelers. Randy and I set our alarm for a bit earlier so I wouldn’t be rushed in the morning as I grabbed my gear. We woke up at 5 a.m., got a warm drink, and loaded up packs with last-minute items. We made a cool 30-minute four-wheeler ride to the top of the mountain. We silently unloaded and walked about 25 yards down the side of the mountain to a perfect vantage point to glass the mountain in front of us. Soon, the dark sky gave way to the morning light and we spotted a 3x4 standing broadside in front of us. Gary and Randy were so happy that the plan had worked and we had a buck within range. After getting a good look at the buck, we spotted two more just beyond the 3x4. There was a tall 3x4, a small 4x4, and a 4x5 all feeding together. Then we saw movement just above the three bucks. There stood a lone buck with cheaters coming off both sides. At first sight, we knew this was our buck.
We quickly swapped out our binoculars for spotting scopes to get a better look. The deer slowly walked toward the other three in the thick oak brush. Finally, he walked out into an opening. A 5x6 buck! The buck wasn’t within range, so we took a moment to analyze how to close the gap and get a shot. Randy and Gary made a plan, and we were off. We hiked back up to the four-wheelers and around the mountain to get a shot across the canyon. We crested the ridge and cautiously watched the wind direction. We glassed the hillside where we last saw the deer almost an hour earlier. All four bucks were there! We quickly found our buck with his distinctive cheaters. Randy used his new rangefinder and told me the distance. I set up the muzzleloader on my shooting sticks, and with my heart pounding, I squeezed the trigger.
Each deer lifted its head as the shot echoed through the canyon. It was a clean miss. I was feeling like I had made a mistake and all of Randy’s and Gary’s hard work was going to be for nothing. After that first shot, we saw the group of bucks run down the mountainside and stop under a grove of trees. We hiked down to a juniper pine and tried to get a shot, but the deer saw us and ran off. We figured we were done for the morning. We gathered our extra layers, not saying much as we all knew that might be the last time we saw such a unique buck. We loaded up our packs and started up the hill. Randy took a few steps and stared back across the canyon to where we last saw our buck. I was a few steps ahead of Randy and Gary, wrestling with all the emotions of what had just transpired. Then I heard Randy whistle and whisper, “Holy crap, it’s him. He’s back.”
We hit the deck and eventually made our way back over the crest of the mountain and hunkered down. The buck was walking toward us. We set up with the gun, and I waited for a shot. Randy told Gary the distance, Gary dialed the scope, and I squeezed one off. Another clean miss. This time right below him. The buck jumped and looked at the ground where the bullet hit. He turned, staring at the ground, walked in a circle, and bedded down with his backside facing us. We waited and tried for another shot opportunity. Another miss right below him. He jumped up quick and took a few steps into the oak brush, eventually bedding back down facing us. The guys knew we were in for the long haul waiting him out for another shot, but my gut never got the message. I broke position and crawled up and over the peak of the hill to find some privacy. As I was making my way back from a bathroom break, the buck spotted me on the skyline and ran all the way up and over the opposite ridge. I knew I had made a terrible rookie mistake. I saw the looks on Randy’s and Gary’s faces. I was imagining what they must have been thinking. As we started to load up and put our backpacks on, they could tell that I thought they were mad at me and immediately both reassured me. A few tears slipped out as Randy gave me a hug and told me, “It’s okay. We’ll get another shot. He wasn’t running like he’s leaving. He’ll be back.”
In my head, I just knew I had blown it. Opening day and multiple bucks with no other hunters to be seen and I couldn’t make it happen. I was pretty bummed out. Around this time, Randy also made a haunting realization. His new rangefinder had been set to automatically adjust the distance with consideration of the angle. No wonder my shots had each been just below my target the day before. Even with the frustration this knowledge gave me, it also gave me hope that I might be able to connect with a deer now that we had fixed the error.
The next morning, we took a 30-minute ride up the rocky dirt road. We stopped briefly and decided that we would go to the same spot we were at the day before. We simply had to see if that buck would come back. After the way that buck kept bedding down in the oak brush, Randy and Gary were convinced he hadn’t gone far. After a short hike down the hill, we started seeing bucks again. The wind wasn’t in our favor, so the guys decided to try to work around the mountain just as we had done the day before. About two hours later, we had moved down the backside of the ridge. Finally, after an agonizing amount of time, Gary decided that we were low enough to look over the ridge. He edged his way up to the crest and peeked over. Almost immediately, Gary whispered, “He’s there!” The buck was exactly where they both thought he would be and was in the exact same bed as the day before. We were desperate to make this work, but the buck was facing our direction. Any movement along the skyline and we’d be spotted. After looking at our downloaded maps, we found a way through some brush that would give us cover as we crested the ridge. Eventually, we cut in front of the oak brush that would help avoid our silhouettes on the skyline. Gary spotted the buck and knew we needed to crawl the last 10 yards to stay out of sight and reach our shooting position behind some taller sagebrush.
I took my pack off and followed Gary in. One movement, pause, another movement, pause. Eventually, we reached our shooting position and set up to see the buck still bedded down, facing us but barely angled away. We waited for the buck to stand or give us a better ethical shot. In the 80-degree heat, we waited. The buck would doze off and nod its head, but it didn’t ever stand.
The sun shifted, and the buck had some sun shining on him through the holes of the oak brush. One particular sunspot was shining right behind his front shoulder. I looked at that spot through the scope and whispered, “I’m gonna shoot. I can make this shot.” Gary whispered to Randy, “She’s going to go for the shot.” I took a few deep breaths and squeezed the trigger for the 173-yard shot. Even with a billow of gun smoke in my face, I felt good about the shot. Gary told me to watch the deer, and I saw him run a few steps and stop. I told Gary, “I think we got him,” but then the buck started running uphill and I was devastated. However, after a few more steps, the buck stumbled and fell over. Hearing Randy say the words, “He’s hit hard, he’s down,” was a magical moment. I had actually done it.
The next 40 minutes were the fastest of my life. We hugged and took a quick picture, loaded up our packs, and made our way down the hill to go find my buck. Randy was filming me as I walked up to the buck. I knew the guys had spotted him before I did, but I also knew they weren’t going to say anything until I found him. They let me have my moment of walking up to my first deer.
We cleaned him up a bit, celebrated some more, and got the pictures we wanted. We hiked back up to the four-wheeler and made it with only about 20 minutes of daylight left. We loaded up the meat, cape, and our backpacks and drove for camp. I was trying to process all the emotions that night. We made a big fire, cooked up some more bacon and eggs, and finally rehydrated with water.
I fell asleep that night completely overwhelmed with exhaustion and gratitude. I don’t know if many people have two amazing men who would do what Randy and Gary did for me. They absolutely outfitted that hunt.
The next morning, the emotions really set in. I remember sitting in the tent reliving the experience with Randy. I was on the verge of tears all morning. I couldn’t believe this was the story for my first hunt. It was surreal and I wanted to make the moment last as long as possible. I didn’t want to share it with anyone yet. I wanted to keep it between the three of us. No one could really understand and appreciate what we went through to get that shot. No one will ever really know everything that Randy and Gary did for me so I could have a good experience for my first time. It was like I had a secret that I just couldn’t tell. Not yet.
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