Not for the first time, I consider breaking loose from here and heading back to camp.
The camper is cool, and with this great breeze blowing, it would be perfect for a nice nap. It’s hotter than blazes up on top of this ridge. The sun is baking directly down, and there’s no cover here to provide shade. The rocks are soaking up the heat, and radiating it right back out on me. I’ve been up here for over three hours, and there are at least four more hours before the sun drops low enough to give me relief.
The only thing keeping me here is the fact that I’ve got no less than 12 deer bedded under the oaks downhill to my west. There are four or five more stretched out down in the chaparral on the east side. I haven’t seen any horns yet, but with the rut just around the corner, I’m pretty sure there must be a big boy or two nearby. Every few minutes I glass the hillside, dragging my gaze slowly through every opening, wary for the flick of an ear or a twitching tail… or better, waving antler tips.
I sit and glass until my head starts to nod, then I get up and glass the other side for a while. Finally, I lay my over-shirt out on the rocky ground, and roll my jacket up for a pillow and stretch myself out in the sun. With my Stetson pulled over my face, I can almost fall asleep. The buzzing flies and the blazing heat keep me just at the edge for a while, until finally, I’m dreaming.
I wake about an hour later. Sweat has soaked my back, even as the sun has dried the front as fast as my pores can wet it. I sit up, and am briefly chilled by the breeze as the sweat evaporates. Then I’m hot again.
I look around carefully, then slowly stand up. My binoculars sweep the thickets, and drift across the canyon and up the road to my truck, parked less than two miles distant. I could be there in under an hour. There’s a cold soda there, and some food besides these Nutrigrain bars I’ve got in my pack. But if I pull out of here now, it’s highly unlikely I’ll be able to motivate myself to climb back up this ridge by evening. All these does… there’s gotta be a buck somewhere.
I force myself to start glassing again. My head starts to nod. I’ve been up since 0315, and this sitting in one place is boring. I glass until I can’t keep my eyes open, then I stretch out on my rocky bed again.
I wasn’t even going to hunt the B-zone this season, much less here on public land, in the place I call “Kokopelli Valley”. But I sent in for the stupid tag anyway. With the tag in my pocket, and a strong urge to get out of the city for a while, I decided what the heck, and after finishing some home-front chores, I jumped in the truck and hit the road. I hadn’t been to Kokopelli Valley in a couple of years, and decided it would be nice just to see how the place was doing. A big fire about five years ago practically scoured the place, but it was coming back strong last time I was there.
I pulled up to my favorite trailhead at about 5:30pm to find a pickup and a quad parked there. The guy in the pickup told me his buddies were dragging a deer out of the canyon. They’d shot it way up in the far end. The guy on the quad has his grandson down in there as well, hoping the others would kick something out to him. I could see a couple of road hunters up on the rim road glassing the bottom as well.
This was a little crowded, and I was having serious misgivings about coming out here like this. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I ought to stick it out, so I grabbed my rifle and binos and slipped over to a corner of the place where I didn’t figure anyone else would be. As I started down the trail, the lucky hunters hove into sight, dragging a really nice 3×3. Damn.
I didn’t let it get to me for too long. I hunted this place hard for a long time, and I knew that there was usually more than one good buck in here. I also knew that, even when the place got hammered by hunters during the day, if I stuck it out I always saw deer after everyone else left.
As it turns out, I did. An hour before sunset, I caught movement up on the west ridge. A pair of does and a smaller yearling were slinking across the hillside. I watched as they moved slowly from thicket to thicket, stopping occasionally to browse on buckbrush and other goodies.
Just at sunset, as the shadows started to really move out across the canyon, I spotted two more deer coming out into a meadow. They were a little better than 700 yards away, according to my range finder, and I couldn’t tell if either of them had headgear. I watched until they bedded down in a hollow spot, then took off in hopes of closing the range and getting a better look.
About 400 yards away, I passed into a clearing and glassed up the hill to see if they were still there. One of them was looking right at me! I leaned back into the shadows, then slipped through the bushes into a ravine. I could use terrain to get closer, but I was afraid I was already busted.
At 300 yards, it was getting too dark to see their heads very well. I moved a little closer, but darkness was coming down too quickly. Rather than blowing them out, I decided to slip back out to camp and try to find them in the morning.
Sunday morning came quick. For some reason, I woke up wide awake at 0315. I tried to get back to sleep, but gave up and started some coffee and oatmeal. The extra time allowed me to get all my gear organized, and to think about what I’d be carrying. Usually, I leave my packframe in the truck. I can always come back to get it if I need it, but for some reason I decided to carry it along this morning.
About two hours before daylight, I humped it into the canyon. I intended to climb the west ridge at first light, but didn’t want to try to get there in the dark and risk spooking game. About 3/4 of a mile in, I climbed up on a small hill and made myself comfortable. I enjoyed the light show in the heavens, and the sounds of a pack of coyotes who had apparently just discovered the gut pile up the canyon. Shooting stars and yelping yotes… I couldn’t help smiling. This is what I missed in Kokopelli Valley. There’s a feeling like the place was mine alone.
As the first grey light appeared, I caught a flash of movement. A small deer bounded across a meadow, kicking up its heels in play. Another followed it, rambunctiously leaping through the dried grasses. Behind them, a larger doe slipped out cautiously. The youngsters played for a while, chasing and jumping, then stopping to browse a bit before resuming their game.
Another group of deer was moving up the canyon wall. Usually the deer will head up the west ridge after first light, to bed in the thick stuff on the hillside. At the first sign of pressure, they’ll cross over the ridge to the extremely steep west side. Not many people will chase them over there. It’s a pretty intimidating bit of terrain.
I decided it was time to get up on top of the ridge, before anything else moved over.
After a long, fairly tough climb, I made it to the top. From this perch, I could see the canyon bottom from end to end. I also had a great view down into the chaparral where I’d already spotted two deer moving toward their beds. On the west side, I started seeing more deer browsing in the early morning shadows, or moving to thicker stuff for the day.
Which gets us pretty close to where we came in, internal debate and the decision to sit tight.
My second nap doesn’t last much longer than the first, and I wake up with one arm gone to sleep, a sore back, and very little motivation. I’m not gonna come out here for a day and a half and shoot anything. What was I thinking? I should head back. There’s a ton of stuff waiting for me to do at home. I need to reload some ammo for the new rifle. I need to get the JHO Journal published and online. I’ve got some paperwork that needs to be tended to also.
The debate goes on, and as it does the sun slowly slips into the western sky. Finally, it’s low enough that the tall peaks start to provide a little shadow. The temperature drops and my mood rises.
I catch a glimpse of a deer topping a rise down below me, heading for one of the trails that leads back up over the ridge, and down to the canyon. It’s time for me to switch positions. There is a series of deer trails intersecting about 100 yards below me. From memory, I know this is where I always used to see deer in the evenings as they came down to feed. I want to be there as the sun starts to set, so I pick up my gear and start moving.
Just as I enter the area, I’m startled by a crash of branches, then a shape hurtles out of the clearing to my left. My senses aren’t quite at full speed, so it takes a half-second to realize it’s a deer. It bounds again, and this time I see antlers! Even better, these antlers are forked!
I whip my Savage from my shoulder, but the deer disappears into the thick brush. I barely have time for disappointment. I know there are only a couple of places that deer can run, and both of them lead into open ground. If I can get above him before he crosses, I might have a shot.
I start to half-run along the sidehill trail. Just before I hit the edge of the thicket, I spot something deer-like about 150 yards across the hill. The buck has stopped just at the edge of safety for one last look back. This is a common trait in blacktails and mule deer, and it’s a fatal flaw. I am able to steady the 30-06 on my new monopod, level the crosshairs behind the buck’s shoulder, and send a 180gr Accubond down range. I hear the thump and simultaneously see the buck fall sideways and roll down the hill.
I jack another round into the chamber, and stoop to retrieve my brass (habit). When I stand, I see the buck struggling to get up. I find his neck in the crosshairs and send one more round. This quiets him for good.
Up until this point, I only knew I was shooting at a legal buck. I learned, long ago, not to spend too much time looking at the antlers. That’s been the cause of many case of buck fever. As I walk closer, I can see the curve of antler above the animal’s head. That’s one big forkie!
Closer still, I see that there is not one fork, but two on the right side. Four points! I walk faster, closing the distance until I can clearly see that there are three points on the left side. Even better, the right side has a double brow tine!
I stand in brief shock, which is replaced by wonder and joy. How cool is this? Big bucks in Kokopelli Valley had always eluded me before. It took me almost six years to finally kill any buck there, after too many misses and blown opportunities to recall. Now, with a partial weekend to get in my only B-zone hunt of the year, I managed to take a really nice buck.
Another first for me… the recovery was relatively easy. I had only to roll/slide the buck down the ridge to the flats, where I could bone him out in comfort. The meat went into a game bag and on the pack frame (that I almost didn’t bring), and I had a strenuous, but relatively easy, hike out to camp.
My gear packed, I raised a toast to Kokopelli and to my buck’s spirit.
Here’s a video from the trip:
Sol
neil h
Great buck and an excellent piece of writing. You really made me feel like I was there, and I haven’t even watched the video yet!