A hunting story can be a family treasure. Many are told over and over, year after year around the campfire, in a blind, or riding in a truck. They may be passed from generation to generation.
It is not always obvious to know where to start a story. My story could begin in 1949 when at the age of 6 and living in southwest Virginia I was cutting out pictures from sporting magazines of rifles, deer, elk, and campgrounds for my scrapbook. My story could begin 20 years later in 1969 when I took my first “big game” trophy, a roe buck while stationed with the Army in Germany. This story could begin in 1993 when at age 50 I made my first trip West to actually hunt elk and mule deer in Idaho. I was with my best friend and my father who was recovering from his first of several cancer surgeries. I shot my first mule deer on that trip, and my passion for mule deer was fueled.
Over the next 10 years, I was fortunate enough to make five or six more trips in pursuit of mule deer. I hunted most of the western states, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado, in both guided and self-guided hunts. During this time, I realized that random hunting, although it was a lot of fun, would not produce the trophy I was beginning to covet.
Oh, the hindsight of not building points! In 2002, I wised up and started building points, primarily in Arizona, Colorado, Utah, and Wyoming solely for mule deer. I took early retirement in 2004, and my wife and I made annual hunting trips west. She was always looking for whitetail, and I was always looking for mule deer. We were successful about 50% of the time, but we never could find the real trophy I was seeking and I really didn’t mind eating western tag soup.
In 2011, I drew in Wyoming, but once again, I was unsuccessful. In 2012, I drew Arizona and Colorado and the seasons overlapped. My hunt in Colorado was for the Eastern Plains and in Arizona was for the Kaibab. A dream year was in the making as I worked with two great outfitters. However, this was not to be my year yet again, and I came home with my tag from Colorado and a cull deer from Arizona. I had become a true trophy hunter. My prize would score 180” or I would continue to roam.
In the spring of 2017, I was advised by my doctors that my hunting passion was coming to an end. A number of illnesses would prevent me from the lifestyle I had enjoyed for so many years. I had only applied for a tag in Utah for that fall and a point in Colorado. With the news from the doctor, I knew I needed a Plan B. I called the folks at Huntin' Fool and talked to Logan Hedges. Logan and I talked a couple of times with a focus on Wyoming and Region G where I would need all of my six points. Western Wyoming was coming out of a historic winter snowfall with massive winterkill. Logan was monitoring the herd at the time and eventually reported a huge fawn and doe loss, but the older bucks seemed to make it through. Because of the timing, I could wait to hear from Utah before applying in Wyoming. In late May, I learned that I was unsuccessful in Utah, so I submitted my application to Wyoming.
Logan passed along information on a number of outfitters. I called them all, but one outfitter simply stood out from the others - Matt Harbaugh of Salt River Range Outfitters. When I described my goals and my limitations, he simply assured me that we could get it done.
When the news arrived of my successful draw, I was truly ecstatic but also apprehensive. I immediately got serious with my range work and physical conditioning, including weekly horseback riding at a local farm. I had a series of physical tests done, and in the end, one doctor said to go for it and the other advised against it. This was a no brainer for me. My brother decided to go with me for the adventure. We would take some extra time along with his travel trailer and make a true adventure of this hunt. We selected to hunt the second week of the season on Matt’s advice.
On our day of arrival, Matt told me that my guide would be Ralph Green. Ralph and I immediately connected. He is a full-time guide with a home and outfit in Alaska for fishing and a home in Wyoming to guide for elk, deer, and bison. We spent the afternoon of the 22nd settling in, sighting in, swapping stories, and just relaxing. On the mountain, it was 16 degrees with about 15 inches of snow. We would leave at 4 a.m., drive to the trailhead, and mount up for a four-hour horseback ride to 9,000 feet and the “spot.” We would hunt until about 1 p.m. and start back to the trailhead. Ralph had two deer we were hunting, "Too Tall" and "Cheats." Both were in the 190” range, and Matt had seen both during elk season. Could it be possible that after all these years I would be in the right spot at the right time?
We hunted until after lunch, watching small deer and a black bear feed, and then mounted up for our return to the trailhead. After about one hour of riding, Ralph glanced back up the mountain. There was a clearing about a mile away, and he could see three deer. After pulling out the spotting scope, he turned to me, very excited, and stated that one of the deer had a droptine and one of us was going to shoot that deer as this was the first one he had ever seen.
We started back up the mountain and found a location on an opposite ridge with a clear sight window. Emotions were high for both of us as I settled in with the 7 mag and Ralph ranged him at 480 yards. The first shot flipped the deer onto his back, but he was still trying to get back up. The second shot closed a 68-year chapter of my life. We hugged, danced, howled, high fived, and hugged again. When we arrived back at camp that night, there were about 20 folks waiting to hear about and see the big deer. After taping, the rough statistics were a B&C score of 201 2/8" with an outside spread of 29 4/8". He was just out of velvet with great mass. This deer far exceeded my dreams, and I had shot him on the first day of most likely my last hunt.
There were many suggestions for a name for such a beast and trophy. After reflecting over the events of the day, the effort to get me off and on my horse, the effort to get me up and down the mountain, the effort to stabilize my shots, and the effort to retrieve and get this deer off the mountain, I decided that my lifetime mule deer would be called "Ralph."
I want to thank my wife, my brother, Huntin' Fool, Logan, Matt, and Ralph for helping me realize my lifelong dream.