I’ve been on a lot of hunting trips, but this was my first time taking my wife, Joanna, on a big game hunt. It was opening day of hunting blacktail deer on our home island of Kodiak, Alaska. Hoping for good weather, we got the Kodiak special – overcast ceilings of 500 feet, rain, and 50-degree weather. After an early morning start, we drove out to the trailhead and rode the ATV about an hour to make it to the remote area we had selected. Our initial 1,000- foot climb through alders, slick grasses, and salmonberry bushes deposited us directly into the overcast fog layer. We continued our ridgeline hike back to the bowl we wanted to hunt, expecting a six to eight-mile hike that day. Throughout the morning, the sun began to burn through patches of fog and visibility increased.
Our first deer of the morning was a small collection of does, looking much healthier than we’d expected after the snow-heavy winter. About midday, we rested for lunch, overlooking a long bowl along the ridge and first low bowl with no activity. At the six-mile mark and 2,000 feet of elevation, we dropped off camp and continued over the final saddle to glass in our intended bowl. My wife and I both started spotting deer. She was enchanted watching several does with their cheerful fawns playing. An overprotective doe kicked several fawns away from her offspring, and the humor of their drama kept her distracted from her search for a shooter buck. As the distraction subsided, it didn’t take long to start seeing bucks.
After patient glassing, we spotted a mature Sitka blacktail buck in the bottom of the bowl and determined we would put a stalk on him. He was about 1,500 feet below us, so we tracked down a narrow goat trail littered with snagged goat fluff and bright wildflowers, leading us to the best available overlook into the valley. As we reached our intended vantage point, we were about 500 yards from the deer. We determined he was a large 3x3 with brow tines and was definitely a shooter. The range was outside my wife’s comfort zone, so we continued to stalk in closer. As we edged closer from a small protrusion overlooking the bowl, the impending weather sank lower and pushed over the saddle. By the time we were within comfortable range, no more than 10 minutes, the fog had rolled in completely and the buck was lost to us. The visibility shrank to less than five yards ahead, and we decided we needed to return to camp. The goat trail that had been exciting and beautiful on the way down was treacherous and nerve-wracking on the return. Knowing steep drop-offs and unstable rockslides were along our route but out of visibility made for a slow return hike to camp.
Happily back at camp, we industriously removed our wet clothes. I cooked us a hot dinner while my wife read a book and cozied up in the tent. Even though we hadn’t been successful, her excitement was thoroughly enjoyable. She had never been terribly interested in hunting, so to see her focused on the hunt and so motivated was new. The real possibility of success had rallied her spirits for the next day’s hunt.
The next morning was full of sunshine and chirping birds. We ate a hearty breakfast and set out from camp. The plan for the day was to trek back into the same bowl and glass for the buck from the night before. However, by the time we were 150 yards from camp, a youthful pair of a blacktail buck and doe could be seen grazing on the damp, sunny hillside about a mile away. They were in the opposite direction of the bowl we’d intended to hunt. I pulled out the spotting scope and informed my wife that he was about a mile away and was a 2x2 with brow tines in velvet. I told her that we should return to the bowl as intended, but the tangibility of success had her wildly excited. She was absolutely determined that we should put a stalk on the small buck, and since it was her hunt, I relented.
We descended about 500 feet, staying hidden by the landscape and in the shadowed bits of the hillside. After our rapid mile, working our way closer to the unaware animals, we were able to set up with a clear shot about 200 yards from where they were feeding. My wife set up prone, and I was able to range the deer. Unfortunately, it was quartered away and walking away from us. The short wait for a clear shot seemed like an hour to her, whispering worriedly about how the deer would get away. He walked about 20 yards and then turned and gave a crisp broadside shot. As soon as he turned broadside, she took a slow, calming breath and pulled the trigger. At 200 yards, the buck immediately dropped and began rolling down the slope through the brush and wildflowers.
This moment was followed by a surprising shriek of excitement as she abandoned the animal in her sights to celebrate her success with hugs and cheers. As someone who has spent most of their life hunting, from childhood through adulthood, there was no greater joy than watching my wife harvest her first big game animal.
We walked over to the buck, finding where he had rolled down the slope and come to a stop. My wife had made an excellent shot a few inches behind the shoulder, a perfect double lung. I worked at field dressing the buck as my wife deboned the meat for the pack out.
We left the meat on the hillside in the shade and then backtracked to collect camp. After rapidly breaking down and packing up camp, we turned toward the ridgeline, returning to the meat. From there, we had to pack out about six miles. Nothing made me happier than hearing my wife’s exhausted complaints about her first heavy pack out. Arriving back at the ATV, she plopped down her pack dramatically and grinned at me with a genuine sense of adventure and accomplishment. While the rack was small, the thrill of success was not.