I'm finally settled back in from my hunting trip to Montana. I drew a mule deer tag and my older brother, a resident, had an either sex elk tag he'd been working on filling. I went up the week before Thanksgiving and spent almost two weeks. Last winter hit the mule deer pretty hard, they had a severe winter kill so it was tougher than normal deer hunting. I talked to many other non-resident hunters who spent at least a week and hadn't seen a deer, much less a buck, to shoot on public land. Private land up there is very costly to hunt unless you can get on some block management land which is a first come first served basis so the good areas get taken pretty quickly. We hunted our butts off, put in many hours and miles on foot, vehicles, and atv's. We saw deer but just not the deer. Toward the end of the first week, we had another morning of not seeing much in the way of animals or sign so we headed to an area that is known, to us at least
, for producing some elk and good deer. We headed in and split up, I was walking just below a ridgeline and not seeing anything down in the bottom of an old burn so I found an area where I could slip over the top and peek into the next drainage, just as I came around a knoll I spotted about 25-30 head of elk in the drainage wandering up into a saddle to cross over. There was one okay 5 point, a smaller raghorn, and a spike with the cows and calves but I didn't have an elk tag so all I could do was watch but I knew by the way they were acting they could either see or smell my brother's who should have been coming up right behind them, so I watched and waited and hoped my brother would see them. Well, he did and he nailed the bull with a good shot with his 300 mag but the bull kind of stumbled off. I bolted down and met up with him and we headed up to where we last saw him, he wasn't there but there was snow on the ground and a nice blood trail so we took out after him. We went across three drainages before we spotted him again and my brother pumped another shot into him and he went down. After many high fives and hell yeah's we figured out he'd actually dropped only a few hundred yards from the road so we wouldn't have to quarter him and pack out, so there was one more round of high fives and hell yeah's
A few days later, after many more miles trying to fill my deer tag, we decided to go hit an area that we hadn't hunted. It was a pretty good drive from camp to get out there, and it was a lot of State and BLM land interspersed with private land so it was a challenge to make sure we were on public land. We hit a patch that looked promising and I bailed out and started in. I went about 50 yards from the truck and spotted a wide buck 150 yds away. I didn't even count points, all I could see was him looking at me and some serious width. I knelt down, settled in and squeezed off a shot. I nailed him hard right behind the shoulder with a 300 wsm 180gr but it didn't knock him down. He stumbled a few yards then got his feet under him and slowly walked over and stood under a juniper. I knew he was hurting so I just stayed where I was and watched him. Finally after 20 minutes I closed the gap and tried to work around to another good broadside shot. I got up inside 100 yds and every time I'd move to get broadside he'd turn his butt to me but he wasn't going to run. Since my dad and brother still had deer tags to fill I took another shot and dropped him. When I got up to him he had two exit wounds that I could fit my fist into and his vitals were mush. It always amazes me how tough these mulies can be. Anyway, he was an old buck, kind of spindly 3x3 with both brow tines busted off and a couple of tips broken too but he was 29.5" wide, definitely my widest deer. He must have been a tough old boy. Let's go ahead and ignore the fact that in the picture my rifle is aimed right at my sweet spot
I had a great trip and can't wait for the chance to do it again next year.
, for producing some elk and good deer. We headed in and split up, I was walking just below a ridgeline and not seeing anything down in the bottom of an old burn so I found an area where I could slip over the top and peek into the next drainage, just as I came around a knoll I spotted about 25-30 head of elk in the drainage wandering up into a saddle to cross over. There was one okay 5 point, a smaller raghorn, and a spike with the cows and calves but I didn't have an elk tag so all I could do was watch but I knew by the way they were acting they could either see or smell my brother's who should have been coming up right behind them, so I watched and waited and hoped my brother would see them. Well, he did and he nailed the bull with a good shot with his 300 mag but the bull kind of stumbled off. I bolted down and met up with him and we headed up to where we last saw him, he wasn't there but there was snow on the ground and a nice blood trail so we took out after him. We went across three drainages before we spotted him again and my brother pumped another shot into him and he went down. After many high fives and hell yeah's we figured out he'd actually dropped only a few hundred yards from the road so we wouldn't have to quarter him and pack out, so there was one more round of high fives and hell yeah's
A few days later, after many more miles trying to fill my deer tag, we decided to go hit an area that we hadn't hunted. It was a pretty good drive from camp to get out there, and it was a lot of State and BLM land interspersed with private land so it was a challenge to make sure we were on public land. We hit a patch that looked promising and I bailed out and started in. I went about 50 yards from the truck and spotted a wide buck 150 yds away. I didn't even count points, all I could see was him looking at me and some serious width. I knelt down, settled in and squeezed off a shot. I nailed him hard right behind the shoulder with a 300 wsm 180gr but it didn't knock him down. He stumbled a few yards then got his feet under him and slowly walked over and stood under a juniper. I knew he was hurting so I just stayed where I was and watched him. Finally after 20 minutes I closed the gap and tried to work around to another good broadside shot. I got up inside 100 yds and every time I'd move to get broadside he'd turn his butt to me but he wasn't going to run. Since my dad and brother still had deer tags to fill I took another shot and dropped him. When I got up to him he had two exit wounds that I could fit my fist into and his vitals were mush. It always amazes me how tough these mulies can be. Anyway, he was an old buck, kind of spindly 3x3 with both brow tines busted off and a couple of tips broken too but he was 29.5" wide, definitely my widest deer. He must have been a tough old boy. Let's go ahead and ignore the fact that in the picture my rifle is aimed right at my sweet spot
I had a great trip and can't wait for the chance to do it again next year.
