It’s that time of year again, as we kick off our 2010 PLM mule deer hunts at Coon Camp Springs. 

This season at Coon Camp is going to be a little different.  We received one extra PLM tag this year, meaning we’ll be hosting five hunters instead of our usual four.  While we’ve certainly had our success filling out four tags, it’s never wise to get overconfident.  Wild animals are notoriously unpredictable, as is the weather.  Between the two, and the always fickle nature of hunters’ abilities, the only sure thing is that you never know how things will turn out.

One big difference this year is that I wasn’t able to get up prior to the hunts and do my scouting.  Fortunately, Dave was able to go up a couple of days early to check things out.  Unfortunately, he didn’t see any sign of the impending rut… and very little sign of deer activity.  That didn’t sound good.  

But two things I know.  One is that there are deer, plenty of deer, on that property.  The other is that sometimes you have to hunt for them.  They won’t just walk out and ask to be shot.

Another really big difference this year is that our first group of four hunters all arrived together.  Typically, I’ll take two hunters at a time, a manageable ratio for a single guide.  The normal hunt is a week long, and that’s usually more than enough time to get everyone on animals.  This year, the first group is scheduled for two weeks, although as I learned when they arrived on Friday, they’ll actually be leaving after four days.  Those who can will try to come back this coming weekend.

I drove up to Coon Camp on Friday evening, arriving at around 0330.  The clients had chosen to stay in cabins over at Eagle Lake, and were scheduled to be in camp by 0500 to start the hunt.  I set up my bunk in the guide cabin and tried to get a little nap.  Unfortunately, just as I got comfortable, Dave came into the kitchen to start coffee and breakfast.  Oh well, sleep is for wimps.

It was spitting snow and rain when the folks showed up.  Al, Larry, Denton, and Jim would be our guests for the next few days.  In camp to help, we had Dave and another Coon Camp Springs board member, Bob.  We decided I would take Al, and Dave would pair up with Larry.  A few days earlier, Dave had set up a blind for Denton who would hunt solo.  Because Jim has serious mobility issues, Bob would hunt with him from the truck.  The plan was on… even if the weather was going to work against us.

And it did… 

We spent the first hours of daylight huddled in our respective blinds, glassing fruitlessly over the empty ground.  With the wind and the snowy mix of precipitation, it was an uncomfortable morning.  At one point, I thought I heard a gunshot, and hoped that when we returned later, we’d find someone in camp with a deer hanging from the gambrel. 

After about four hours of freezing on the rock outcropping, I asked Al if he’d be interested in taking a walk.  I figured if the deer were moving at all in this weather, they’d be sticking close to cover.  I knew a few sheltered areas we could take a look at, and maybe get a little lucky.  Besides, a walk would warm us up.

As we stalked along the ridgelines, I was disappointed not to see the amount of sign I’m used to seeing.  Of course the rain had likely washed out most of the tracks.  Finally, we rounded a rock outcropping where I used to see a lot of activity, and then we started spotting tracks and scat… some of it very fresh.  I turned to Al to give him a couple of options which way to go when he stopped me and pointed.  “Deer!” he hissed. 

I turned and spotted the white backside of a deer about 300 yards away.  I hit it with the glasses and saw that it was a really nice 3×3, about 19 0r 20 inches wide and probably just as tall.  I wouldn’t call it a trophy, but it was a respectable buck.  Al considered it through his own glasses as another buck stepped out.  This was a smaller forked horn.  A few seconds later they were joined by a third, small buck. 

I gave Al time to decide if this was a buck he wanted.  From our position, we would easily be able to close the range to around 150 yards for a shot.  All he needed to do was make the call.

He didn’t.  After watching the deer for a few minutes, we decided to head around to another area.  Al told me he was hoping for a big, traditional-looking 4×4… preferably over 22″ wide.  He’d seen the pictures from the last couple of seasons, and knew what the property holds. 

The plan was for everyone to gather back at camp for lunch.  We hiked one more ridge and checked the time.  I saw an area that I really wanted to check, but it was already noon.  We headed back to the truck and to camp.  I noticed the empty meat pole when we pulled up, and sure enough, no one else had pulled a trigger or even had a shot.

After lunch, no one was eager to sit around and waste daylight. 

Al and I headed back to check the ridge I’d been looking at earlier.  There were several steep rock outcrops on the lee side of the ridge, providing a beautiful set up for bedding bucks.  Mountain mahogany, juniper, and bitterbrush covered the slopes below the rocks.  It was just a beautiful area, begging to be hunted.  So we did.

For the first hour, we slipped through brush, peered over ledges, and glassed hillsides.  Nothing.  Then there were a few tracks that looked pretty fresh.  I clambered out onto a particularly steep outcropping and looked over.  As my toes cleared the edge, the brush directly below exploded and a 4-point blew out!  I frantically waved at Al, but he was already trying to get his scope on the fleeing animal.

I got my wits together and made a quick judgement.  It wasn’t a bad buck, but he wasn’t what Al told me he wanted.  Maybe 20″ wide, and tall, but not a giant or a particularly old deer.  I passed my estimate on to Al who kept the deer in the scope until it topped a distant rise and disappeared. 

Once the deer had gone, we looked at each other grinning.  That was fun!  I asked Al if he wanted to trail the deer and try to get another look.  I figured it would slow down once it was out of sight, but the tracks kept going in a beeline toward a distant ridgeline.  After a while, we decided to let him be and get back to the blind for the last couple of hours before dark.

Just as we reached the blind, the rain and wind started coming back on.   Before long we were sitting in a storm, and I realized we wouldn’t be seeing anything out in the open sage with this kind of weather.  About an hour before the end of legal shooting time, I raised Dave on the radio.  He and Larry were driving down the hill, so I had him swing by and give us a lift back up the hill to Petunia. 

During the night, the storm set in with a vengeance, and when the guys showed up at 0500 Sunday, the wind was kicking occasional gusts that must have exceeded 40 knots.  The rain was frigid and stinging.  We all knew the odds of catching deer out in the open with this weather were slim to none.  We’d hunt some bedding areas, and hope we could maybe get lucky.  I told Al as we headed out, it would be nothing short of pure luck if someone got a deer in this storm.

He and I covered a lot of thick territory, but the best we encountered was a set of fresh tracks.  Obviously, despite the wind and wet ground to silence our approach, something had spotted us first and boogied out of the brush.  We rounded the ridgeline and took a shortcut back down to the camp. 

Just as we reached the camp, I caught movement out near the main road.  I was shocked to realize that several deer were trotting right along the road.   The last two deer in the group slowed and I could see that they were does.  However, I told Al to come on and follow to see if we could get a look at the rest.  The deer slowed down about 200 yards from where I’d first seen them.  I spotted the grey shape through the misting rain and hit it with the binos. 

I gasped and tried to get Al’s attention.  This deer was easily 24 inches wide, with tall, thick antlers.  From the angle, I couldn’t count the points, but it would be an impressive animal regardless.  Al was trying his best to get it in his scope, but the rain and wind had flooded the bell of his Leupold, and he couldn’t see a thing.  My heart was pounding as my attention kept going from the oblivious buck to Al’s frantic effort to clear his scope. 

Finally, the deer turned his head and I could see that he was only a forked horn.  I couldn’t believe it!  I passed the word along to Al, but a sidelong glance showed me that he was locked onto it.  Would he shoot it anyway?  I returned my focus to the deer and waited for Al’s .300 WinMag to go off.  It never did, and at last I heard Al sigh and stand up.  

As I watched the deer, I saw that two of the others were smaller bucks as well, and there were also two does.  We watched them for a moment, and then started back to camp.  The deer were headed in the general direction of where Jim and Bob should be, so I radioed to see if they were still there.  They were, so I told them to stay put and stay alert, and then we turned to go back to the cabin.  Just as we did, Dave and Larry pulled up. 

I ran ahead and told them about the deer.  Larry wasn’t necessarily looking for a trophy, and he also had a limited time to hunt.  That huge forky would be a great deer.  They jumped in the truck and took off up the road.  Al and I gave them a few minutes and then followed.  We’d barely turned onto the main road when we heard the rifle report.  

When we caught up to Dave, he was pulling his field dressing gear out of the truck.  Buck down! 

It turns out that Larry had taken one of the other bucks, a nice 3×3.  The big forky had disappeared.  Still, this was a good deer, and Larry seemed happy enough.  As we got the deer field dressed and loaded, the other hunters all pulled up.  There was hand-shaking and picture taking (Excuse the quality of the accompanying pic… it was taken on my cell phone.  The good pictures will be available later.), and then we all headed back to camp. 

While I was skinning the buck, the weather turned even nastier.  The hunters decided to head back to their cabins for the day.  Hunting in the storm would be a miserable exercise in frustration.  They’d be back on Monday morning.

Unfortunately, I had to get back to my real job on Monday, so I bade them good luck and got my gear packed up for the drive home.  Dave and Bob would take care of things for the remainder of their stay, and I’ll be back up there on Sunday to help anyone who’s still not done, and to get ready for our last hunter in two weeks.

This is Coon Camp board member, Bob Olds with Jim's 4x3.

Overnight, the weather finally lifted out.  After three days of being bedded, I knew the deer would be out and about in this lull.  I expected to hear some success stories, and I wasn’t disappointed.  At about 0930, I got a text message and photo from Dave.  Jim got his shot on a really nice, old 4×3.  After they got it back to camp, the whole crew jumped in Al’s truck and did some driving around. 

Here's Denton's buck... another cell phone picture, I'm afraid.

A little before lunch, I got another text message.  They encountered a decent 4×4 above a canyon, and Denton  made a good shot on it.  Suddenly the group was three quarters done!  As of my last message from Dave, Al “slammed down a sandwich and disappeared.”  I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he brings in deer number four before dark tonight.

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