So the 2010 Coon Camp Springs mule deer hunts are in the bag, as are all five of our PLM tags. 

As you may remember from the last update, we had three deer down for our first group of hunters, with one hunter, Al, holding out for a trophy buck.  His plan was to return the following weekend and try again. 

Well, it wasn’t a classic hunt.  The deer were simply not cooperating this year.  The warm weather seemed to keep the rut activity to a minimum.  All of the deer taken so far had swollen necks and stinky tarsals, but they were keeping to the thick stuff.  Al hoped that would break loose by the time he came back, but it didn’t happen.  After a couple of fruitless days glassing and hiking, he decided to pack up and head home.  He’d give me a call later in the week to see if my scouting had turned up more activity. 

Before I arrived back in camp, Al had been out driving around the ranch and had spotted an ancient buck with a couple of does.  The antlers looked sort of weird… “like Bullwinkle,” Al told me later. 

As he prepared to drive home, Al said he might ride around a bit more and look for a big, stupid deer.  After driving around, he’d head on out. 

I did some work around camp after he pulled out.  I don’t know how long he was gone, but as the sun started to drop I decided to roll out and glass a couple of spots with the new Nikon Fieldscope (figured I should get some use out of the danged thing).  There were two areas where I’d seen some promising sign, and thought if I glassed from a distance, I could spot movement without disturbing the animals. 

As I was switching positions, I spotted a vehicle coming up the road.  We’d had a tresspasser on the ranch the previous week, and at first I thought he might be coming back.  I tossed the spotting scope and tripod in the truck and started down to intercept him, but as I closed the distance, I realized it was Al’s truck!  I’d assumed he was long gone, and wondered what he had forgotten to make him come back.  I got even closer when I spotted the open tailgate, and then saw the rear-end of a deer.  I’ll be damned!  He got one! 

I reached the road as he was passing, and stopped him.  His smile was unmistakeable, and I hopped out of the truck and ran around to see what he’d shot.  In the back was a huge-bodied deer with the strangest looking rack I’ve seen!  It was an 8×4… almost a cactus buck.  The spread wasn’t all that impressive, 17 or 18 inches, but the conformation of the antlers made this a really unique deer.  I told Al then, “you’ll see a lot of really nice 4×4 mule deer in your life, but you might never see another one like this.” 

We got Al’s deer dressed and caped, and he loaded up to head home.  One more deer to go!

My last client, Dave Brown, called a day or so before his hunt to see how things had been going.  I told him the hunting had been pretty tough, with the warm weather and storms.  With a front coming in on the day he was scheduled to arrive, I suggested that he come a day earlier.  If we were lucky, we could catch some deer getting active before the storm.  I was concerned that if the storm was bad, it would drive everything back into their beds.

Dave showed up on Saturday afternoon.  I got him settled in, and after weighing the options, I decided we’d try to stalk the fringe between the beds and some feeding areas.  The ground was damp and quiet, and the wind was blowing steadily enough to mask our noise.  It was as close to perfect conditions as we could ask for.

We hadn’t been on the ground more than an hour when I stepped into a clearing under the junipers and a deer blew out of his bed.  He must have been sound asleep to have let us get that close, but regardless, it looked like this game might be over before it started.  As he left the clearing, I caught a good look at one side of his antlers.  There were four well-formed points, but I couldn’t get a good look at the entire rack.  The mass was fairly light, but it looked like they went out to the buck’s ears.  In short, I couldn’t decide if I should call this a shooter or not… especially considering the quality of the buck Dave took here last year.

We got a break when the deer stopped about 50 yards out, but he stopped with his front half behind a tree.  We waited him out, expecting him to step clear.  Instead, he turned and trotted out the opposite direction.  “Get a good look and decide if he’s what you’re looking for,” I whispered to Dave. 

Unfortunately, Dave didn’t have the same angle as I did, and he couldn’t get a look.  The deer stopped again, less than 50 yards away.  Again, his head was in a tangle of branches. Dave was sitting on the ground, trying to steady his rifle.  He twisted his body to get a look.  It looked a little like he was playing Twister or practicing yoga… and it was in this contorted position that he decided to take the shot.

It didn’t go well… but at least the buck was obviously not injured (although at that close range, I bet his ears are still ringing!).

We tried to follow up and get another look, but it wasn’t in the cards.  We made our way back to camp. 

Sunday came on with wind and spitting rain. We covered a lot of ground, both on foot and in the truck as the weather worstened.  When the rain turned to snow and started blowing sideways in a blinding squall, we decided to call it and head back to a warm fire for dinner and a drink or two. 

Monday morning dawned with about an inch or so of crunchy snow on the ground.  The wind had dropped out.  I decided to try a stalk near where we’d jumped the four-pointer on Saturday.  As we moved along the logging road, there was just no way to keep the noise down.  The snow was frozen over the dirt road, and walking on it was like stepping on potato chips.  Maybe we should leave the road and try to stalk the edge of the meadows.

We were creeping along a cut when I caught movement to my left.  I turned in time to see a deer trotting away from us.  I barely caught sight of a forked antler. “Buck!” I hissed.  “But I think it’s just a forkie.”

Dave stepped ahead of me and tried to get a look.  I couldn’t see the deer anymore, but apparently Dave did.  He raised his rifle.  I thought he was just taking a better look at the deer, but then I noticed that he was getting intense.  His shoulder tightened, and the muzzle started making small circles.  Was he going to shoot the forked-horn?  I knew it was a tough hunt, but he still had several days left. 

Then the gun went off.

I couldn’t believe he just shot a forkie!  But hey, it’s his hunt.  I trotted to catch up.  “Did you hit him?” I asked.

“I’m pretty sure I did.”

I thought the deer must have been standing pretty close, but we kept walking and walking.  I was too busy looking for tracks or blood to count our steps, but I’d estimate we walked 150 yards before he stopped and pointed at a place where fresh black dirt was kicked up on top of the snow.  A few steps later and he crouched down.  “Blood!” he whispered triumphantly.

He was holding a clump of pine needles with a drop of blood on it, but what I saw was a solid glob of blood and tissue on a stump behind him.  It was pink, and I felt a wave of relief… lung hit!

The deer had made a death run of about 30 yards and piled up in the snow.  It wasn’t a forked horn at all, but a wide 3×3 buck (22 1/2 inches).  I could see that Dave was happy, and that’s all I needed to know.  We decided to call it the Redemption Buck.

We got the buck dressed and caped, and then it was party time!  Dave was celebrating another great hunt and succcess.  For my part, I was enjoying the relief of filling that last tag after such a tough couple of weeks of hunting.  I have to admit, I was starting to get a little stressed at the lack of activity this season. 

But there it is!  Coon Camp Springs delivers again!

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