There is little doubt that killing an iconic, mature mule deer buck in the West is a dream of every big game hunter. From the high alpine mountains of Colorado to the desert badlands of North Dakota, big, mature mule deer bucks can be found speckled across a variety of landscapes. The Wyoming desert badlands is one area that can provide quality mule deer habitat, holding a few mature bucks that have been able to grow up into coveted trophies. After applying for seven years, I had finally drawn a Wyoming mule deer tag.
Without enough preference points to ensure a quality, top tier tag, I decided to aim for one of the random non-resident special permits. The unit I picked had draw odds in the 5% range with good rut hunt dates in November. Harvest success was around 70% with a chance at a 150-160 class deer.
My preparation began as do most of my hunts. I first ordered a map from MyTopo and then spent countless hours on Google Earth and onXmaps. After I felt familiar with the terrain features and drainage names, I obtained a past hunter list from Huntin’ Fool and started to make phone calls. Most of the members said the hunt was very difficult and after a few days in the unit’s interior and not seeing any deer, they settled on hunting around the agriculture fields and creek bottoms in the southern end of the unit. I also made a call to the biologist and received great information about aerial surveys and which locations to check for isolated doe herds that may have a buck during rut. Finally, I spoke with Garth Jenson and Logan Hedges, Hunt Advisors who were very helpful and spoke freely with information.
My plan was to hit the center of the unit and spend most of the eight days driving roads, glassing from vantage points, and hiking rims, taking in inventory of bucks. The interior of the unit is the most isolated with very low deer density, but I figured this was where I may turn up an older age class buck. I would stay mobile, sleeping in the back of my truck wherever I ended for that day.
I arrived in the unit on November 7th with only about two hours left of daylight. Driving into the core area, I was overwhelmed with the vastness of the terrain. Deer could be anywhere and nowhere at the same time. With miles of broken ridges and rolling landscape, the deer could disappear with little effort. Looking closely at the lack of vegetation, it was hard to imagine deer living in this wasteland. This hunt would be harder than I anticipated.
The first morning, I woke up to several inches of new snow. I perched up on the highest butte I could find, waiting for the sun to rise. Glassing takes patience and practice. Over the years, I have developed a technique, but this badlands promontory with red, tan, and grayish canvas made spotting a mule deer almost impossible. At this time of year, a deer’s coat is almost grey, and even a standing deer can be downright invisible. I spent most of the morning and evening hours glassing from different vantage points. The middle of the day, I spent hiking and driving, looking for tracks and trying to locate random deer. This pattern continued for five days. I was lucky to see 10-20 deer in a day. With morning temperatures hovering around zero and midday highs in the teens and occasional ripping winds, staying focused was a challenge.
On the sixth day of the hunt, I had covered most of the core unit. I decided to recheck all the areas that held does. Every deer that I had spotted up until now I had marked on the map. In the middle of November, I knew that does should be picking up bucks by now. There was one area that held 12 does in a flat, isolated basin filled with tall sagebrush. These deer seemed to bed within the sage and feed out in the evenings. Some of this brush was over my head and impossible to glass. I hiked up the nearby buttes to peer into the sage. With only an hour left of sunlight, I knew the deer would start moving. Sure enough, I spotted a doe within 300 yards. Then, within minutes, I could see several deer moving within the sagebrush. It's uncanny how they can appear and disappear with ease as they move. As predicted, the 12 had picked up a buck, and like the old hunting movies I grew up with, he was lip curled and head tilted back in pursuit of a doe. I set up my spotter to take a closer look. He was by far the best buck I had seen on this hunt. He had decent width, good main beams, mass, and age. He was a great typical, mature desert badlands in that 160" range.
I switched gears and prepared for a shot. The deer continued to move in and out of the brush. Some deer were only 200 yards in front of me, but the buck was content tending a doe in the middle of the sage 350 yards away. He would show himself for only a moment before disappearing back into the sage. I knew my opportunity for a shot would be brief. I was perched up on a pyramid type bluff without any option to relocate or close the distance. I settled in, lying prone with a good rest on my pack. By this time, I was running out of light. Moments like this seem like an eternity, even though they pass in seconds. Finally, the buck fatally exposed himself for a clean shot. He bounded forward to where I could follow up with a second shot.
When looking back on hunts like this, I tend not to remember the countless hours spent in preparation, the cold nights sleeping in the snow, the frigid winds that cut to the core, or the miles hiked in wastelands, void of life. However, forefront in my memory remains the brilliant sky as a sun crests the horizon, the sightings of fox, bobcat, badger, and coyote as they seek food, and the beautiful, forgotten landscape that these mule deer call home. It is moments like these that create a desire in me for adventure hunts filled with new experiences. I am eagerly waiting for next year’s draw results and the adventures they bring.
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