Big Game Illustrated - Fourth issue

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In the Next Issue...

Giant Alberta and Sask Nontypical Whitetails 205� Typical and 250� Nontypical Mule Deer Monster Double Droptine Eastern Moose

Volume 1 Issue 4 Spring Edition 2014

10

In This Issue...

6

The Friday the 13th Buck by Ken Andreas

10 Journey to a Giant by Shawn Hanes 16 Taming Rango by Erik Rowley 24 That Was Easy by Kellie Cantin 38

28 Build Your Own Trail Camera 30 Patience and the 6 x 6

by Jeremi Skelton

by Justin Berg

38 Felix the Lucky Buck by Josh Rafuse

42 48 42

54 58 62

Splitter by Mike Currie

The Spot by Brad Fry

A Season to Remember by Michael Ma Hunting the Ghost Buck by Richard Oberembt The Family Ram by Lane Miller

70 Evolution of a Mule Deer Hunter by Ben Funk 58

74 Five Droptine Megabuck by Kevin Bell 78 Fulfilling a Dream

by Klint Brownridge

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FEATURES...

22

21 Steps Taken & Paths Laid

by Cody Forsberg

by Devin Gorder

Great advice to become a successful shed hunter.

Creating a path for generations of future hunters.

26

Let ‘Em Grow

34

by Kaare Gunderson Letting deer grow and the rewards that can come from allowing them to reach maturity.

53 Worst Case Scenario Part Two

by Cam Jones Creating a successful bow hunt by using the proper equipment.

Sharpest Tool in the SHED

Living With Wolves: A Hunter’s Perspective

by Chad Wilkinson The dangers of co-habitating with wolves and how hunters can help with conservation.

66

The Future of Hunting Dedicated to all the young hunters.

68 Everything

Outdoors

by Heather Wilson The paradigm shift of the increase of women hunters.

BY: KEN ANDREAS

Ken Andreas with the absolute giant typical mule deer he arrowed on September 13, 2013. The big deer is one of those rare specimens with a net score of more than 200”. The final tally on his deer was 201 2/8” net typical, helped by main beams of 28 2/8” and 28 5/8”, a longest G-2 of 15 3/8”, G-3 of 10 4/8” and G-4 of 10 4/8”. The mass measurements on his buck are also excellent with both bases stretching the tape at 6 2/8” and more than 46” of total mass.

I

t all started this spring when my good friend Travis Kolenosky and my stepson Maverick Gillespie agreed to meet me for a day of shed hunting. We met early in the morning and planned to spend most of the day trying to track down some antlers. We went to an area I suspected could hold some muley sheds and started to put some miles on the boots. It was pretty slow picking at first with none of us finding much of anything. After a couple hours, we turned and began to make our way back to the truck. On the way back, I spied a nice little willow run that none of has walked through yet and BOOM!! There they were…20 yards apart. I was impressed with the length and mass of the sheds and wondered how the buck might look in the upcoming season, and hoped I could find him during the summer.

When I met back up with the rest of the group I was ribbed about “staging” the sheds there the night before!

On September 12th, my wife and I were out scouting when we met another hunter who had spotted a good buck. When he described the buck I realized he was talking about the deer I had the sheds from. As we parted ways his last words were that "he is a nice buck, but not worth using a draw tag on". I was relieved to hear that he was not going to hunt him, and was encouraged to hear that my target buck was in the area. I wanted to get a look and decide for myself whether or not he was a shooter.

Fast forward to Friday the 13th of September. I was walking into my little hot spot when I caught the tips of a velvet covered rack coming towards me behind a little knoll. I hunkered down and a few seconds later I was face to face with a nice whitetail buck. He continues coming right at me until he stopped at four yards! At such a close range he picked me out of my limited cover, snorted, blew and instantly exploded away from me. The worst part was he headed out right in the direction I wanted to go. "Wow...strike one!", I thought to myself. I carried on, admittedly a little less careful now; I didn’t think there would be a single deer left in the area after all the commotion.

A preseason photo of Ken’s typical giant taken a few days before the season by his good friend Shawn Danychuk.

I settled in once I got to my destination, and began to scan the area, looking for any sign of movement. There was not a deer in sight. After a few minutes of seeing nothing, I began to get bored with the lack of activity so I started texting my brother about the elk hunt we were leaving on the following morning. After a couple quick texts I looked up and….busted.

A summer of scouting had given me the information I needed to recognize the deer as a buck we named Triceratops. He had always travelled with the big guy I had been following all summer, and the previous owner of the sheds I had picked up the previous spring. However, my deer was nowhere in sight and Triceratops had me pinned down but kept coming towards me! I judged him to be at 40 yards when he walked into a low spot out of sight. I was ready at full draw when he reappeared.

I released my arrow. Zing….right over his back! "Why didn’t I range him!? Strike 2!", I thought to myself. I was upset with myself for missing this crazy looking old buck with the hooked horns and triple brow tine. "I have his sheds anyway," I thought to try and console myself, as if that was any consolation for missing the buck.

I was angry at myself, and decided I might as well go try and find my arrow. I was kicking the grass looking for my arrow when I looked up and saw a massive rack on the horizon looking right at me!! I hit the dirt and waited for him to start browsing again. I got into a low ravine and hurried to the spot where I would intercept him as he came out of the wolf willow. I got into perfect position and slowly looked up. I expected him to be there but he was nowhere in sight! "Where had he gone?", I thought to myself. I glassed the area, looking for

any sign of horns in the brush. "Had he bedded? What do I do now?". I stared into the area where I expected to see him but he was simply gone. Then something caught my eye and I looked to my left. There he was….standing eating leaves off the brush!

I didn’t make the mistake of not ranging the buck this time.

"61 yards….he is done". I drew back and was relieved when he didn’t bat an eye…just kept munching on leaves without a care in the world. I touched the trigger on my release and sent the arrow on its way. I could not believe my eyes when the arrow ducked right under his belly! Strike 3 and I was sure that I was out and the hunt was over!

He took off and I didn’t know what happened…except I had missed. The range finder must have picked up a branch or something closer, is all I can think. As I watched him bound off, he was heading towards posted land. I knelt down and just replayed over in my head what had just happened and what an opportunity that had just passed me by. I am not sure why, but I knocked another arrow and just looked at it. I was sick to my stomach. "How many more things could go wrong?" I thought. Finally, I got it all together, and prepared for the long walk back to the truck.

Then something unbelievable happened! I looked up and he was walking straight at me. “Is this really happening?”, I whispered to myself. He crested a ridge at ten yards and I drew and quickly let an arrow fly from my APA M7 bow. The shot wasn’t perfect, just a bit far back but still ok. He took off in the same direction towards the posted land. I heard him go down in some bush close to the property line, but I couldn’t see exactly where he fell. I decided to back out and headed to the truck to

see exactly where he fell. I decided to back out and head to the truck to replay it all in my mind - over and over and over again. After a long discussion with the landowner, I gained permission to track him onto the posted property, just in case.

I called my wife Kristan and filled her in on the story. She instantly said she was leaving work to come help me. When she arrived, we headed to the place of impact. I was encouraged because there was a lot of blood. A quick survey of the area also revealed my arrow lying on top of the matted grass, right where it should have been. The blood trail was heavy, and very easy to follow. As I expected it led right into the area where I heard him go down. As we closed in, I expected him to be laying right there. However, I was not so lucky. We continued to follow the zig-zag path of blood, but the trail was becoming much less obvious and I was beginning to worry.

We got to a fork in the trail and the blood trail completely stopped. Both Kristan and I were devastated. I sent a disappointed text to my friend Travis, and he instantly said that he was on his way.

As I looked ahead, I could see a huge, very thick bush. I thought to myself, "he is In that thick bush for sure, and is going to be impossible to find". My wife Kristan said something in the back of her head was telling her to go to a smaller bush on the left where she had noticed a snapped branch. I didn’t think much of it, but she decided to go in for a look. I was just about to the bush where I thought he would be, when I got a text from Kristan. As I looked at the words, I couldn’t even read what they were supposed to say so I hope that meant something good! I headed towards her at a fast pace. When I got to her she said, "There he is…in the little low spot in the bush…I’m sure it’s him!” We walked in, and sure enough… there he was! It was all over. I’m not going to lie; I was a shaking hysterical mess!! My first archery deer…and to have my wife along for the recovery!!

Thank goodness Travis and his crew showed up minutes later to help load the brute! I have to thank my wife for coming to help that day because I would have never looked in that tiny bush in 100 years. I was absolutely convinced he was in the big one where I was headed. If not for her help and the angel on her shoulder telling her to go to the small bush, I may have never found this deer in time.

I also need to say thanks to her for understanding my passion to hunt and wanting to spend every minute she can

in the outdoors with me. Kristan says it’s all of the shows we watch together on Wild TV that made her go to the little bush!

I can’t explain it, nor can she. I am just ecstatic that she was there with me to find this deer of 10 lifetimes! Travis took my broken arrow and stuck it into a tree beside near the grid road where we hauled the buck out and now every time we pass that spot, we think back to that amazing day and are thankful. I also need to thank the landowners who grant permission for us to hunt on their land every year.

Shawn Hanes poses with the incredible buck he was able to harvest after a tough season in northern Alberta. The huge-framed whitetail has a gross score of 182 5\8” as a typical. With a longest main beam of 28 1/8”, a largest circumference of 5 5/8” and a longest tine of 12 7/8”, Shawn’s buck truly is a buck of a lifetime. The entire rack has a great curved look to it and is rounded out nicely by long brow tines, with the longest one going 8 1/8”. Even with some heavy deductions for the character points the buck grew, the net typical score of 171 5/8” still easily put him into the record book. It should be noted that Shawn’s field pictures are nothing short of spectacular.

BY: SHAWN HANES

I

t had finally arrived, the whitetail rut of 2010. In the days and weeks leading up to it, the anticipation was killing me!

It is a special time of year with the farmland fields now stripped of their crops, left with only stubble and the clouds of ducks and geese gone south for the winter. The trees had dropped all their leaves and were now barren sticks reaching into the crisp Alberta sky. Most importantly, from my perspective as a whitetail hunter, there was just enough snow to make for the perfect hunting conditions.

The hunting season had already been successful in my eyes.

I was fortunate to be alongside my older brother and my dad when they both harvested tremendous mule deer bucks at the beginning of November in southern Alberta. Those are both stories for another day, as I was 100 percent focused on tracking down a big old whitetail buck. With the help of my dad and my older brother we had scouted every spare second we had.

Beginning in June and continuing until the middle of November. We worked hard trying to find the bucks of our dreams.

We knew there were a few very good bucks around, but the true giants that call the area home were just nowhere to be found. We had trail cams out in our favorite areas, acting as an extra set of eyes while we were away at work, dreaming of what may be appearing in front of them. In the past, we had been fortunate to capture pictures of some great bucks, and we hoped some of them were still around. We spent countless hours sitting the edges of fields patterning deer and hoping to catch a glimpse of the buck we called “Kicker� or any other giant, for that matter. I had harvested some great whitetails in the

past but I had yet to wrap my fingers around a true giant of my own. I felt this was my year; I hunted hard the entire archery season. Every day I possibly could and almost every evening all season long. I wanted nothing more than for my efforts to pay off. Now it was just a waiting game, one of those Alberta giants just had to make a mistake and I needed to capitalize when he did so. With the rut coming, I hoped my chance at a true giant was getting closer.

It was the morning of November 18th. The night had brought in a winter storm which had blanketed the landscape with white fluffy snow. When I set out for the morning hunt, the winter storm had not yet passed, and the wind continued to howl and blizzard conditions had me moving slowly to get to our hunting spot. Despite the crazy weather, there was no way I was going to miss a day of whitetail hunting during the rut.

I knew from past experience that a snow storm seemed to get the deer moving, especially during the rut! Lucky for me I had the entire day off work and I knew I had to get out there and see what I could find.

I headed to one of my favorite spots. My brother was planning on hunting this area in the evening so I planned a relatively low key hunt, in hopes of minimizing the disturbance to the area. My plan was to walk through a low spot in the bush between two fields to stay concealed. Once I got to the other side, I would find a high vantage point and sit and call for the morning. I started venturing across the pasture and noticed there were some fresh tracks, and I mean really fresh! It was snowing so I knew there had to be some deer close by.

With the snow falling as fast as it was and accumulating I knew these deer crossed only minutes before I had come across their tracks. I continued on with my plan to get to the field’s edge to the high vantage point. I had just reached the fields edge when I noticed a deer on the far side. I quickly dropped to one knee and dropped my pack. I was relieved to see that the deer had no idea I was there. As I peered through my binoculars I could see that it was just a doe, but I knew at this time of year there would be a buck nearby somewhere, or at least I hoped so.

I scanned the rest of the field but there were no other deer present. A bit disappointed, I turned back to the doe and I spotted another deer standing at the doe’s rear. I didn’t need any optics to identify this as a very large buck with a huge set of antlers! This is when my natural instincts took over; I immediately brought my 7mm Remington Magnum to my shoulder and found the buck in the scope. At first glance of the tremendous animal, my heart almost jumped out of my chest! I knew from past experience not to concentrate on the antlers so I simply settled the crosshairs on his chest for he was already standing broadside. It was a fairly long shot at around 350 yards but I had no way of getting closer. At the report of my rifle the buck was still standing there, but I was sure I had heard the sound of a solid hit. I quickly reloaded and sent another one on its way. This time I definitely heard a solid hit but the buck was retreating to cover. I again quickly reloaded and found the buck in my scope one last time, gave him the proper lead and this time, at the shot he dropped in his tracks!

I started running in the direction of the downed buck and

as I got closer something was different about this buck then the other bucks I had harvested previously. This deer got larger with every stride instead of the infamous ground shrinkage.

As I reached the buck’s side and lifted his 28” plus main beams

from the snow my emotions almost took over me. I had finally, after so many hours……days….seasons, harvested a buck of my dreams! Now most of all, I finally had a bigger buck than my older brother. A little brotherly competition has never hurt anybody! Despite all the scouting that my brother, father and I had put in, and all the trail cameras we ran in the area, none of us had ever seen this buck before. I was relieved to discover, after field dressing him, that all three of my shots did indeed

hit the boiler room.

I would like to thanks my family, friends and landowners.

Without your support and granted permission I wouldn’t have been able to harvest this tremendous trophy. This buck is going to be a tough one to beat but I am already looking forward to the pursuit of another giant whitetail every year and for years to come. I can’t wait to see what this great province of Alberta allows me to pursue.

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Erik Rowley of Ely, Nevada with the huge bull he arrowed in that state. The bull had matching main beams of over 52”, and G4s of 23 2/8” and 21 2/8”, along with over 25” of abnormal points. The end result was an official gross score of 390”, and a net score of 377 7/8”.

M BY: ERIK ROWLEY

y archery obsession started when I was old enough to walk. I couldn’t wait for elk season so I could follow my dad out into the hills to chase big bulls year after year with him and other friends. Countless hours spent at camp making archery equipment out of willows and shoe laces, shooting pop cans, chipmunks and anything else I could get in my sights, patiently waiting for my chance at one of those giants some day. Patience was exactly what I knew was needed to draw such a coveted tag in Nevada. It took my dad 28 years to draw his tag, my grandfather 34 as well as numerous other family members 15+ years to get to live their dream. Well, on June 13th, 2011 all those dreams were starting to become a reality. NDOW released the 2011 draw results and I had finally drawn my elk tag! As I ran around the house jumping up and down with my little brother I knew it was going to be a great year for elk. With all the precipitation we had received earlier in the year, the big bulls were going to be putting on a lot of inches of antler.

In early July, my little brother Brock Rowley, best friend Trevor Marques and myself starting pounding the hills, both high and low, scouting to see what this year had decided to grow. With such great help, it wasn’t long before I started to get anxious for opening day. As I headed in for work July 25th, I heard my phone beep, meaning I had a picture message.

It was from my little brother Brock.

As I opened the text message I was greeted with a picture of a giant 7X7 bull elk with some really cool crown points. I immediately called him and he informed me that this bull was with five other bulls that he figured would net over 350” once they were done growing. As we re-

viewed the video he had taken that night we decided that this was a bull we had hunted in the 2010 season with a friend, but he had put on over 30” this year and his 6th points had gotten much larger, along with all his other points. We named him Rango and continued to watch him for nearly four straight weeks as the season opener drew nearer and nearer.

With two weeks before the season started, I kicked my

preparations into high gear, waking up every morning at 5am to shoot my bow with the sun coming up. Scouting after my practice round, then off to work at 9am, off at 5pm and then back into the hills for the remainder of the day. With just a week left and countless hours spent in the field I had narrowed it down to three bulls I really liked. One was an 8X8 with some cool extras, the other a typical 7X6 that a friend of mine had missed the year before, and my first choice, another big non-typical 7X7 that we had dubbed with the name Rango. After many sleepless nights, finally the moment arrived and it was opening day. It was a tradition for us all to meet at Trevor’s dad’s house (Chuck Marques) and I couldn’t believe the great friends I had to help me. It was even more special because there was three generations of three different families there to help me. Chuck Marques and his son Trevor Marques, Karl Garcia and his son Joe Garcia, and Fred Rowley, his son and my dad, Richard Rowley, and his two sons Brock Rowley and myself.

Opening morning found us chasing Rango. As the sun came up Trevor and myself were in perfect position as Rango and his posse of other bulls left their feeding area and headed for their bedding area. Little did I know that Rango’s buddies were the least of our worries. Also chasing Rango were four other hunters! Luckily, we were in the perfect position as the elk worked their way closer and closer into shooting range. Everything was work-

Midsummer bachelor group of bull elk.

Hamilton Greenwood photo. ing perfectly and it was almost as if they were on a rope coming right to us when an archery hunter’s worst nemesis decided it wasn’t meant to be. I felt the wind hit my back and in a flash of dust and antlers Rango and his buddies headed back into the thick trees, avoiding us and the others pursuing him that day. The second day, third day, and fourth day was more of the similar story, Rango and his comrades always seemed to be one step ahead. That night, as we headed back to town, I rode with my grandpa and he told me to not worry and everything would work out. As he told me old hunting story after old hunting story I began to remember what hunting was about, and stopped worrying about the outcome. It was about the passing of stories and knowledge from one generation to another. That night as I lay in my bed, I had a feeling that tomorrow would be the day.

The early mornings and late nights were starting to catch up with me as I rode up to the spot with my buddy Trevor that morning. As the sun came up Chuck located our bull and it wasn’t long before Trevor and I began walking to get in position. I can’t tell you what it was, but something felt right on that stalk. As we slowly worked our way through extremely thick cedar trees Rango called his home, Trevor spotted movement ahead of us. He signaled to me and I began trying to locate Rango. We moved ahead in the trees to a clearing where Trevor hoped they would cross. As fate would have it, we were in perfect position as Rango walked into the clearing and began to rake a tree. Trevor quickly ranged him and told me, “It’s now or never”. “80 yards,” he whispered. The next moments

all happened so fast and the thousands of pre shot and post shot routines paid off. I drew my bow, settled in, placed the 80 yard pin right behind his shoulder and let it go. The shot felt great and I watched as the arrow sailed for what seemed to be an eternity towards my dream bull. THWACK! The sound every bow hunter loves to hear. Immediately, I knew the shot was a little more back than I had liked but knew he was hit good as I saw a flash of the monster bull running through the trees. After many deep breaths, we slowly made out way about 40 yards ahead to where we could try and locate Rango. To my disbelief, he had only went about 50 yards and laid down as the rest of the bulls surrounded him as if wondering why their fearless leader was not joining them in their escape, After about 20 minutes Rango found enough strength to make it to his feet and started working his way away from us out into the large sagebrush flat. I knew at this point it was a waiting game and it was going to be a long exhausting wait for him to expire.

As we made our way back to the truck and back to the lookout point where all my family and friends had been watching they had no idea Rango was even hit! After watching that I was getting impatient, my dad finally asked “Well how close did you get?” I answered 80 yards. He said and you didn’t shoot?

I said “heck yeah I shot, and I smoked him!” He didn’t believe me and almost immediately started jumping up and down yelling in excitement. I reminded him it was a long way from over and we sat there watching Rango work his way farther and farther away until finally he laid down. Chuck exclaimed, “He just hit the ground, he’s down for the count!” As we made

our way out to where the bull lay dead, Trevor and Brock said, “Get over there with your bull.” As I made my way towards my bull, at about five yards, I put my hands on my head in disbelief. All that hard work, practice and dreams finally lay at my feet. Trevor then asked “Well what do you think?” I was speechless. Moments later my other family and friends arrived and the high fives and hugs and celebratory yelling started. It

was then that it hit me, my dreams had finally come true and I couldn’t have been more blessed. There is no way I could have done it without the help of everybody that was involved. A special thanks goes out to the rest of the people that spent their time helping me accomplish this magical feat. After 60 days of drying time my bull officially grossed 389 1/8” and netted an astounding 377”.

STEPS TAKEN & PATHS LAID BY: DEVIN GORDER

L

ooking back, I remember walking behind my Dad, trying to keep up to each boot print in the deep February snow. If I could just stay as close to his tracks and the path he was on, I would be set. It was a far stretch for my legs at that time when his stride was two or more of mine. I would do my best. I knew I’d make each footprint, even if it took me a few steps in between, and that was far better walking than if I was making this route on my own.

It didn’t really matter where we were going, I knew the destination was set in his mind - and all that was set in mine was following close behind on that line he was cutting. Even when the wind whipped my body and the snow needled my cheeks I could put my head down and focus on the freshly laid boot prints. There was no uneasiness or hesitation that we would not get where we were going in my mind. It doesn’t mean it wasn’t work, but when some of the ground work has been laid down, and even the destination is planned on and set, I could just focus on putting all of that energy into getting to that finish line.

I grew up very active in the outdoors. From camping, fishing, hiking, cutting wood, and driving north on Sundays with my mom, dad, and my sister it seemed there was always an adventure to be had. When I think back now, I can’t imagine a better way to grow up, and having the opinion that it was the best; makes me wish that every kid could taste just have a piece of that experience.

It was those things that lit a fire inside of me and made me want to remain on the roads I had started on - some of the very ones I still travel on today. Now as the years have gone on, and as my strength and stride have grown with them, I began to hang my own stands, paddle solo, pitch my tent, and blaze my own trail.

That doesn’t mean they weren’t still there, it was just that I was branching out on my own, testing that deep snow, walking over that uncharted territory, and it sure was awesome. It still is actually. I will never be one to think I know everything. I think I know a few things, but all? No. I would not have been able to take those steps on my own if the knowledge base and the skill set were not there, preceding my own paths. I wouldn’t be where I am today without everything behind me. There are days now when I do still follow, and I believe it’s important to do such at times, not only in order to learn, but in order to really appreciate the process one goes on through life.

I am sure most of you that have read this have been able to nod along and relate to me through some of this. Better yet, I hope some of you have felt that fire burn a little hotter and say, “I am going to do things different tomorrow!!”

Now, as I am a father with an amazing family, I begin to wonder if I am continuing the same path not only for them, but for others to follow. Am I doing a good job? Does my family want to set foot on the path that was started before they can even imagine? The

same feeling that once had me hooked and setting the stage for years to come. Will they share that love for it? After all, isn’t that what we are here to do? To set down paths, to be an example, and to lead? To carry on what we have learned and become more? I believe this translates into life lessons and through generations.

Not necessarily just going hunting and fishing.

It’s definitely not something to force. Anything forced never seems to have the result one wishes.

These days my daughter loves to see deer in the yard, she’s had does eat from her hands since she before she could walk. She wants to play outside and slide down her slide, even in the winter.

“Again”, she will say over and over. She climbs up and down stairs as well as someone older than her, gets excited to show someone this year’s deer in the freezer. “He was the meanest in the forest,” she likes to say. I’ll come home and she will want to examine the last shed I picked up and brought home for her. I watch her and I can see what is already working in her mind. It is purely amazing.

I could care less if she wants to ever shoot something, but just to be active in the outdoors and see that interest brings it all together for me.

It is now a year since Big Game Illustrated printed its first issue, and we began our goal to blaze its own path. Looking back so far, it has been awesome. From the hardest of decisions our team has come to, to the evolution of what we set out to be. Our mission and purpose has been clear and definite from the start. To motivate everyone to get a piece of what we hold, experience it, feel it, to find their passion, their love, and follow through and continue with it. Maybe it’s not to shoot a trophy buck or bull, but at least make you think about what drives you, and make you take those steps to make it important and connect with it. Whatever it is, we are putting our energy, our time, our blood into this. It drives us and when you feel that inside… knowing this is it, this is what was meant to be, there is no getting away from that.

I really enjoy hearing children and people new to the outdoors come forward and ask us questions, being asked to speak at events, and people being genuinely interested and looking forward to what’s next. My favourite question, “What’s next guys?”

In reply I always like to ask, “What do you want to be next?” This is often followed by a long… “Hmmmm, just keep doing what you are doing.”

In the upcoming years we have lots to look forward to as this continues to grow and our path goes on and branches off again and again. We are growing as a team and as a huge family. When I look ahead and back as far as I can see in both directions I can see the path behind that is becoming packed down like concrete and the road ahead is as clear as it has ever been.

Thank you all for the support, kind words, hospitality, wisdom, advice, and motivation.

TOOL IN THE

SHED

BY: CODY FORSBERG

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s a kid growing up, going out shed hunting with my father was just as exciting as spending time at the hockey rink with my friends. I never quite understood the importance of shed hunting until I actually grew old enough to hunt, than it became quite obvious.

Long hours spent and countless miles walked paid off in more ways than I could imagine. Not only do you get the opportunity to see and hold the buck’s head gear in person, which is a thrill in itself, but it acts as a great tracking tool in order to pursue your next trophy.

Deer shed their antlers on an annual basis as a prelude towards the regeneration of new ones during the summer months. Mature bucks utilize their antlers during breeding season to not only impress their mates, but to defend their mate and territory by fighting off other bucks that attempt to intrude. The shedding season can be stretched out to a four month period from mid-December to late March depending on a couple variables.

The time a buck sheds relies heavily on the conditions it is faced with and changes in testosterone levels. Mating season and testosterone levels are at their peak during November but as it comes to a close and many of the does have been bred, testosterone levels in bucks will begin to drop. In areas where there is a high density doe population, there will be random does that enter estrous late causing bucks to maintain testosterone levels and hold their antlers for a longer period. Once most of the does have been bred, the bucks’ testosterone levels drop, so do the antlers! My personal experience has taught me that older bucks in poor condition, usually as a result of a difficult winter with limited food, have a tougher time recovering from the rut, causing testosterone levels to drop quicker, thus promoting early shedding.

For me the shed hunting season begins long before the antlers begin to drop. Once hunting season comes to a close in early December the

deer will begin herding up and getting back to their usual wintering patterns. This is prime time for scouting because not only are deer out and about during daylight hours but bucks will be showing themselves more regularly in search of high quality food. At this time of year you will find deer close to good cover and the best available food source so it’s a good idea to look for high-energy crops such as alfalfa, rye grass and un-harvested grain crops, just to name a few. They will spend the majority of the nights browsing in the fields and spend the days bedded in quiet areas out of the wind such as wooded areas, wind rows and even farmer’s yards.

In most situations there will be distinctly packed trails that the deer use to commute from bedding areas to feeding areas so if you can establish a good understanding of what their pattern is over a 24 hour period, then you have a good chance of observing the bucks in the area.

When it comes to shed hunting, timing is critical.

Stay out of densely populated areas until you are certain the deer have shed their antlers, for a couple reasons. One reason is if you enter their core area before the bucks

shed you will risk chasing them out causing them to shed in areas you didn’t expect them, making them harder to find. It is also important to give them some time to recover from an intense rut so going in too early will just put stress on them and potentially cause some of the deer to winterkill. If you are really eager to get out early, feeding areas such as fields are a good place to look as long as they are not in close proximity to the bedding areas.

I find anywhere from late February to early March is a great time to start searching. By then most of the mature deer will have started to shed as well. It is also early enough that you may be able to get a jump start on the rest of your competitors, fellow shed hunters.

The number one tip I can give you when it comes to finding sheds is to put on lots of miles in good deer habitat. You are bound to pickup antlers if you cover lots of ground whether it is by snowmobile, ATV, or just walking deer trails. Early in the season when there is snow on the ground, increase your odds by spending a majority of your time in areas with high activity. These areas would include bedding areas, feeding areas as well as the trails the deer use to commute from one to the other. You will be able to recognize feeding areas when you locate trails that lead to a food source. It will be quite evident as the deer will be pawing through the snow in order to expose and access the desired feed. Also there will be an abundance of feces and urine on top of the snow to indicate that there is a good herd utilizing the area. The bedding grounds normally consist of thick woodland cover or some sort of wind break such as a ravine where you will find hollowed out melted spots in the snow known as ‘deer beds’. This is generally where the deer will spend most of their daylight hours sunning themselves and conserving energy. I have found that deer tend to bed on south facing slopes and along the south sides of woodland in order to absorb heat from the sun. Both of these areas are prime spots for bucks to shed their antlers because this is where the majority of their time is spent.

While searching these areas there are some things to keep in mind. First keep your eye on the prize, avoid distractions that cause you to miss sheds by keeping your eyes on the ground while constantly scanning back and forth. Maintain a pace that works for you, which should be dictated by the speed your eyes can thoroughly scan the ground, not how fast you can walk. Some key areas that have produced for me in the past include fence-line and stream crossings where the deer is forced to jump causing the antlers to jar off the head. I like to keep the sun at my back at all times to provide the best lighting contrast and prevent glare. Sunglasses come in handy when it is windy, raining, snowing, or when one must walk facing the sun. Not always are you going to see the full outline of the antler, on most occasions all you will see is a couple tines in amongst the grass or the base of the antler protruding out of

the snow. Sheds blend in to the surroundings and look very similar to sticks and crop stubble so it is important to be able to distinguish the difference between the two. Your eyes may need some time to adjust.

Shed hunting is a great sport for various reasons. Anyone can do it and it’s a great way to spend the day outside and get some exercise. There is no requirement to get a license or draw a tag, all you need is a good pair of hiking boots and you can let your imagination handle the rest. Be sure to receive permission before trespassing on any private land and respect the natural habitat. Safety is important and it is always a good idea to carry a GPS with you if you decide to venture off into unfamiliar territory. If you do chose to operate an off-road vehicle ensure it is in optimal operating condition and that you have a sufficient amount of fuel to get you back safely. I have learned more about big bucks by shed hunting over the years than any other tactic making it my ‘sharpest tool in the SHED!’ I hope the information I have shared with you will lead you to success and make shed hunting a unique and rewarding experience.

EASY

BY: KELLIE CANTIN

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Above: Kellie Cantin is all smiles after her first ever bow kill, a beautiful whitetail buck she took while hunting with her father. Kellie didn’t think she would ever be a hunter, but eventually the passion her father had rubbed off on her and she tried it, and proved very quickly to be successful!

inally, on October 6, 2013 I was sitting in the tree stand with my Dad. After waiting countless days of not having the wind right, I finally got my chance. It was a beautiful night, there was a gentle breeze that rustled the yellow and orange autumn leaves. After about an hour of sitting, perched high in the tree, a spike buck came in. My Dad looked at me, questioning whether or not I would take the shot.

I shook my head because I knew there were bigger bucks on the trail camera, and I did not want the hunt to end so soon. I was just enjoying the evening hunt, and loving the anticipation of waiting to see what may come in next. We started hearing the breaking of branches from our right, and I wondered if it was one of the bigger bucks that we knew was in the area.

I sat as still as I could, holding my breath, and hoping it was the one I was waiting for. I quietly turned my head and saw a doe and a fawn walking cautiously towards my shooting lane. The doe walked right up beside the spike buck and looked around. The fawn stayed behind her, browsing a few feet behind her. My Dad looked at me again, and again I shook my head.

After watching the deer in front of us interact for 45 minutes, I heard a branch snap to my left; I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw a big bodied buck with four points on the left and five points on the right of the antlers. I was surprised at how quickly my heart start beat faster and faster, pounding in my ears.

As I gripped my bow, I could tell that my hands were suddenly sweaty. As the big deer silently slipped closer, I knew that this was the one. I looked at my Dad and nodded my head.

It all began a year earlier when I asked my parents if I could take hunter safety with my best friend Hendre.

They were both shocked and looked at me as if I was crazy. I never thought I would be a hunter, and I am sure neither did they. When I was younger, I was positive that I would never hunt. However, after all the years of watching my Dad go out and enjoy his time in the outdoors, I changed my opinion.

Needless to say, after I asked them, my parents agreed right away and I was instantly signed up. It took countless hours to finish it, but I finally did and I was already excited to join my Dad in the treestand. The next spring I got my first APA Rattler compound bow.

My Dad bought a deer target and I started to practice.I got the hang of it quickly. I practiced the whole

A smile instantly crept up onto my face. I thought to myself, "I just got my first buck"! I turned to my Dad and saw that he had videoed the entire thing.

We both looked at each other, smiling and enjoying the experience. summer shooting rounds and rounds of arrows.

Sometimes my Dad and I would shoot together, which we both really enjoyed. I started shooting at 10 yards then got good enough to shoot at 20 yards. Finally, I thought that I was confident enough to head out on my first hunt. Eventually opening day came and we started putting out our treestands, trail cameras and getting everything ready. September was very slow on the trail cameras. We had some nice bucks on the trail cameras, but they were only ever moving at night. On September 28th, 2013, my Dad went and checked the trail cameras again, and we finally had a buck come in during the day, and it was a nice one! I was excited now, and all we needed was a north or west wind, and I would be in the treestand, on my first deer hunt! Then, for the next seven days, the wind blew from the southeast which was the worst possible direction for our stand.

All the waiting was now paying off, as I sat perched, peering through the branches at the antlers of what looked to be a good buck coming our way!

The big five by four walked in slowly and cautiously but calmed down when it saw the other deer below our stand. It started to browse as well, slowly coming closer and closer. I sat up in my chair and waited for the right shot. My hands started to shake and then to get cold. All I could hear was my heart beating loudly in my chest. The buck kept looking up in my direction so I knew I had to stay perfectly still. I couldn’t draw. Then the opportunity came. The four deer all had their heads down and weren’t paying any attention to us. I slowly slid down my face mask and drew back. In mid draw the buck looked up and stared a hole right through me! I stopped and stared back at him, not daring to even blink. He put his head back down and I drew back all the way. I put the 20 yard pin on the bucks chest, making sure it was lined up with the front leg, just as I had practiced at home. I was suddenly thankful for all of those hours spent practicing. I put my finger on the trigger of the release and slowly pulled it back. I watched the arrow disappear into the buck’s chest exactly where I had aimed! The buck turned and ran in the same direction it had come from. It ran 25 yards and stopped, then fell over right there! I could see it perfectly from the tree stand. A smile instantly crept up onto my face. I thought to myself, “I just got my first buck”! I turned to my Dad and saw that he had videoed the entire thing. We both looked at each other, smiling and enjoying the experience. We couldn’t believe that on my first night bow hunting, I got a big buck. It was such an amazing feeling. We climbed down the stand and walked over to it. I knelt down and admired it. I looked up at my Dad with the biggest smile thinking, “That was easy”.

LET‘EM GROW KAARE GUNDERSON

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n the first part of this article I discussed the benefits of allowing certain bucks to become old. In this portion I aim to share the stories of some of these bucks and share in the benefits and possibilities that can come to fruition through doing so.

There is just simply nothing better in my books than being able to target certain animals year after year. That is what makes whitetail hunting so special to me. With whitetails, that is very possible. Here in Saskatchewan we are lucky enough to have a wide variety of tremendous big game opportunities but to me, the whitetail is King and the old buck is the King of all Kings.

If one plays their cards right and the pieces fall in a way that the stars line up, it is very possible to target a specific buck for multiple years and wrap your tag on him when he is at his best. That first puzzle piece can come in a variety of forms. It could be a fleeting glimpse of a buck disappearing back into the timber. It could be a story from a landowner. It could be a shed yanked from it's snowy grave or it could be a trail camera photo of a buck standing above a scrape he has just ripped up. Whatever it may be, once you have it, you can use it to your advantage in hopes of pursuing that particular animal.

With "Blade", it was a great 5pt shed antler that I pulled from the snow while snowshoeing an alfalfa field one late January Day. Some people avoid the dog days of winter, but if I have time, these are the days you will find me searching hard for shed antlers. There is something magical about the site of tines sticking from the snow that is in my blood. It's also when I am trying to locate a new buck to set my sights on or to confirm that a certain animal, indeed survived the previous hunting season.

That particular five point shed was not a jaw dropper but simply a real solid shed off a 150 class buck that was showing signs of blading in his tines. Because winters had been exceptionally kind, I had many older bucks on the go and he simply became an afterthought unless I was sifting through my shed collection.

The following winter, while snowshoeing the same general area I again pulled the same side antler from him out of the snow. He had not grown a whole bunch but he had increased in mass as well as in blading and overall character. He was definitely becoming a buck worth attempting to locate. I was unsuccessful in my search but yet again, the next winter in the same general area I located the other side from him. He was a mid-160 class buck with tremendous color and character. I was definitely going to do my best to locate his whereabouts during the fall. I knew he was likely never going to score super high but his overall look had my attention. A big score is great but is secondary with myself.

One cannot see score, or admire its difference in configuration.

I now had a few pieces of the puzzle and that summer I began searching for him over salt licks in the huge timber to the east. It's

funny that despite how much you think you know about the life of a whitetail, what you believe may indeed not be true at all. This was the case with "Blade" as I could not find him where I believed he surely must be living. I decided he had likely perished during the winter, boy was I wrong.

I learned how wrong I had been one mid-September evening while bow hunting another old buck I had a couple sets of sheds off of. I was roughly 3.5 miles northeast of where I had been picking his sheds up and I had hunkered down along a field edge. It was so early in the day that I was not expecting deer to be moving yet and I was caught unprepared. I was adjusting some stuff around my seat when I turned my head and there, staring at me from roughly 15 yards was a tremendous 5x5 whitetail buck. I was busted and despite my best efforts to remain still he turned and vanished back into the timber. I knew at that moment that "Blade" was alive and not living where I believed he would be.

Fortunately for Blade, that year was an exceptionally good year and he was one of four old bucks visiting that alfalfa field that fall. Roughly a week later I put an arrow through a buck that was simply too good for me to pass up. Blade again went on the backburner. In October I got s tremendous series of trail cam photos of him working a scrape about 1/2 mile from where I had seen him and after that he again vanished. I was unsure if he survived the rifle season but that spring, in early May, while wrapping up my shed season, there in an alfalfa field, side by side, laid the antlers that had stared at me from above his head way back in September. As I suspected, the blading was awesome.

He was definitely a buck that score would do no justice at all.

To make a long story short, I could not find him anywhere the next summer or fall. He had once again easily outwitted his pursuer. Then one late November day, during rifle season, a hunted shot him as he strolled off of a standing oat field nearly 5 miles from where I had encountered him the fall before.

A prime late season food source and the taste of love in the air had trumped his survival skills and his charmed life had come to an end. I was able to view him and he was simply beautiful.

He had great colour and extreme blading. At best he’d gross 170 but his score definitely wouldn’t do him any justice at all.

“Blade” could just have easily have wandered off of a field some three or four years earlier and been met by a bullet from a rifle hunter who had no idea of what he could one day become. After all, he would have been a solid 150 class three or four year old deer and nothing to scoff at. However, what he would become in becoming old would be a 170 class pig of a buck, a poster boy for what could happen with age. One who’s antlers held extreme character and great mass. His back would sway like that of an

old bull while his belly sagged way down to the ground above legs appearing too short for his body. He had become an animal that looked nothing like other bucks just nearing maturity.

Though I was not the lucky one to tag him I will always view the chance to have followed him and hunted him as an opportunity that I have learned does not come along each and every year.

Like "Blade", there have been other bucks that I only began to take notice of with the discovery of a shed antler. "Big 4" was simply just a nice 4x4 when I first picked up a shed from him.

I'd later find the match that year and not until two years later when he showed up on summer salt lick would I start referring to him as that. Despite the fact that that summer I'd get velvet pictures of him and again in the fall, hard antler pictures of him, within a half mile of my house I would only see him one time.

He walked off a field of swathed oats in early October out of range of my muzzleloader and I would never again lay eyes on him outside of cam photos until my friend Bill shot him a couple miles away the following November. He had morphed from a run of the mill, mid 130 class 4x4 to main frame 4x4 with two abnormals that would gross almost 170 inches. He had insane mass and terrific height. He was most definitely the best looking deer I saw killed that entire 2012 season and like "Blade" his life could easily have ended years earlier if he had made the mistake of walking out anywhere near the road allowance that ran through the area he spent his life. He would have been a nice buck but he would most definitely have not been the true beast of a northern whitetail that he would be at 6.5 or 7.5 years of age.

There are other bucks that I have chased with the same storyline, "Buck Grows Old and Exceptional, Kaare Fails to Kill Him." "Stickers" went from a 140 class 5x5 to a mid-170's 5x5 with huge stickers off his bases over the course of three seasons.

I had my chance to kill him with a bow in September but choked and he was shot from the road two months later. Another big 5x5 that I had scooped sheds off of for three years went from mid130's to a high 170 class buck that was shot by an Alberta resident. Many others simply vanished, either dying of old age or another natural death or at the hands of a hunter I do not know.

However, many pursuits have ended well for me. There are many bucks on my wall that I was fortunate enough to bring home after multiple years of pursuit. Though not all changed immensely over the years in terms of score, they all became better trophies to me. Some showed that they did not have the genes to grow huge inches on their head, but they did become more interesting.

The big 4x4 I shot in 2012 never grew much over the course of

three years but when I shot him I was looking at a massive bodied buck with an extremely unique set of antlers that I could not pass up. The year previous I had shot a drop tine buck that was smaller than he was three years earlier but he was every bit as good looking at an older age. As was the buck I killed way back in 2004. Even with a smaller typical frame then he had 3 years before he still grossed 201 inches and had more character than a guy could wish for.

On the flip side, I have killed bucks that have grown immensely as they have aged. The largest buck I will ever have to opportunity to hunt went from a 160 class 5x5 to a 235 inch monster in two years. In 2010 I killed a buck that had grown nearly 40 inches in two years. Both of those bucks I passed up with the intention of seeing them a year older, a year better. I am so very glad that I did. There are also many cases of “I wonder?” There is that 5x4 that I watched go from a 130 inch 4x4 to a high 16o class 5x4 in a year. I have no doubt he would have been an absolute giant the following year if he had not gotten shot. I also think the young 6x5 grossing around 170 that got shot in the same area a year before would have one day been a 200 inch beast.

Unfortunately, when you see a buck for the very first time, you have no idea what he has been or what he can become. This very first sighting of a buck is quite often the very last moment they spend alive. Not all hunters that chase whitetails have the same passion for it as me or the many readers of this magazine. I cannot and do not expect any of those people to approach whitetail hunting as I do myself. There will always be folks who do not care about hunting individual deer, there will always be people who give whitetail deer a thought only during rifle season of each year, there will always be guys simply looking to fill the freezer. My tales of the bucks mentioned in this article are not for them. They are for the guys that love hunting whitetails, the guys that plan for it and think it year round, the guys searching for sheds in -30 temps, or scouting while it is +30. It is for the people who are wanting to learn as much as they can about it, to be more successful at it, to add a whole new dimension of pleasure and challenge to it. If that is you I wish you much luck and I hope you one day kill that old buck you have chased for years. For I know that he is better than he used to be and in finally killing him, it is a feeling that is better It is a feeling of accomplishment like no other in the outdoors, being able to pursue, follow, pattern and with any luck, tag a buck you have been after for years. There really are not words to describe the feeling. Sometimes it does not work out and you are never lucky enough to bring down the animal you have spent countless hours thinking about but that’s okay. They will end up being memories and aspects of life that one can look back on in a positive way simply because of having had the rare opportunity to try. It really is a unique and special situation to have bucks appear year after year until they become so much more than the average deer. I’m at the point now where the average deer, though still a beautiful animal in it’s own right, simply does command the awe from me that the old buck does. He has survived winters, countless hunting seasons, predators, injury or death from other bucks, the list goes on and on. He has simply defied the odds to become an animal in his prime, a true trophy. Though we cannot control nature we can as individual hunters sometimes, control our own hunting destiny and sometimes you just have to let them grow up.

You won’t be disappointed if you do.

Build Your Own Trail Camera BY: JEREMI SKELTON

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en years ago I placed my first home made trail camera on a tree. That was the beginning of a road to an amazingly rewarding hobby.

• Soldering station In the Premiere issue of Big Game Illustrat• Solder ed, you may have come across the article en• Flux titled Camera-Trapper. In that article I talked about my passion for the hobby of building • 24-30ga wire strippers trail cameras and using them for camera-trap• Small pliers ping. I ended that article by saying that build• Micro screwdriver set ing your own trail camera isn’t hard if you • Tweezers have the interest in doing it…so I figured a • Drill press good sequel would be to write a “how to” ar• Various drill bits ticle with as much information as possible to • Foresner bits (1” and 1 ¼”) get someone started.

First off there will likely be a bit of an up• Marine goop (adhesive/sealant) front cost to purchase some of the tools and • Syringe materials necessary to complete your cam• Utility blade era build. So buying all the odds and ends to build just one camera might not be too cost Mark Your Holes for Drilling (picture 1) effective; however, I can almost guarantee that you won’t stop You will need to drill holes for the camera shutter, camera there. flash, motion sensor, and other components in your waterThe layout and orientation of your case will determine what proof case. To mark the holes for the camera shutter and flash components you use and vice versa. There’s a ton of differthere’s nothing better in my opinion, than using the front cover ent component combinations you can put together. Not every of the camera itself. To mark the hole for the sensor, Snapshot camera out there is a good candidate for trail camera use for sniper has PDF drilling templates that you can print off. Lastly various reasons, so to research what cameras are good, or to mark the holes for all other components such as security tube see what types of components others are using I would highly or mounting devise. Once all your holes are marked it’s time recommend visiting the www.camtrapper.com forum. There’s to take your case to the drill press. a ton of information there about building trail cameras and is also a great place to share the photos you get.

Drilling your Holes (picture 2) The first thing I do when it’s time to drill, is take the smallest bit I have and drill pilot holes where I’ve made my marks.

This will help keep all your holes as perfectly placed as possible. Once all the pilot holes are drilled, take a There are three main components that go into making 1 inch foresner bit and drill a trail camera, which include: the shutter, flash and motion • Camera (eBay, Amazon, pawn shops etc.) sensor holes right through • Motion sensor control board (SnapShot Sniper, the case. Next, take your 1 Yetti, Bigfoot) ¼ inch foresner bit and use • Waterproof case (Pelican, Otter, S3, Underwater it to countersink a larger hole kinetics) over your shutter and flash

GENERAL TOOLS REQUIRED

CHOOSING YOUR COMPONENTS

1

2

3a

3b

3c

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holes. This is so you can install 1 1/4 inch round glass pieces into the case. For these holes you only need to go as deep into the wall of the case as the thickness of the glass to be installed, which is generally a 1/16 inch. Now finish off by drilling the rest of your pilot holes out to the size needed.

Add your Camo (picture 3 a, b. c) Painting, or camoing your case is good idea to do before you install the glass and other components, that way you don’t have to worry about taping anything off. You can add your own camo, using flat spray paint. Its fun and you can get as creative as you like. Another option is to get the case “dipped” (water image transfer). For dipping I use Impact H20 Graphics in Ontario( http://www.impact-h2o-graphics.ca/) They do really nice work, are reasonably priced, and have lots of great camo patterns to choose from. Lately I’ve been sending my cases to my buddy Bruce at Aerspray airbrushing in Red Deer, AB. He’s a very talented airbrush artist and knows how to do various styles of custom camo.

Modifying the Camera (pictures 4 & 5) I chose the Sony P41 camera as an example for this section mainly because it is by far the easiest camera to modify for trail camera use, and I would highly recommend it (or the Sony P32) to any beginner. For any modification there’s basically three contacts inside the camera that we need to solder wires to (Power, Shutter, and ground) in order for the control board to operate it as a trail camera. This allows the motion sensor control board to power the camera up and take a photo.

An option after the main modification is to add some additional battery power to the camera by soldering two more wires to the internal battery contacts. This allows the unit more life in the field.

Final Assembly (pictures 6 - 10) Now that the case is ready and camera is modified you can continue on with installing the rest of the components such as the glass, foam flash gasket, sensor lens and security pipe.

Before you install the control board it’s a good idea to test it with the camera first. Power up the board and make sure its controlling the camera as it should (i.e. powering up camera and taking a photo when motion is sensed). If all goes well install the control board in the case and you are all done!

PATIENCE AND THE

6X6 BY: JUSTIN BERG

Justin Berg killed a tremendous 6x6 whitetail in 2012. It was made extra special because Justin had history with the buck, highlighted by trail camera pictures the year before and a shed from two years previous. The big deer grew more than 60” in those two years! The 6x6 typical frame resulted in a gross score of 170” even, helped out by the incredible brow tines, the longer of which reaches out to 9 4/8”! Justin’s good friend Mike Haberstoh did a great job on the mount and Justin has a memorable trophy for his wall.

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t was the fall of 2006, and my dad had just harvested the largest buck we had ever seen on our land. We couldn’t help but wonder if another deer of that caliber would ever come around again. Fast forward to early December of 2010 and my dad was back in the same stand where he killed his big buck.

This time he was filming a beautiful 2 ½ year old 5x5 with a small sticker off its G2 and extra-long browtines. “Was this that next buck, was it an offspring of the 2006 buck?” he thought to himself as he watched the young buck. As my dad panned the camera to view another buck, the young buck shed one of its antlers a mere 20 yards from the stand. He had missed the drop on film by about 5 seconds! My dad and I discussed that deer often throughout the off-season and hoped he would avoid the numerous hunters in the area for a few years. We knew he had

enormous potential if he could make it through a few more seasons.

The fall of 2011 was an extremely slow year around our stand, but we were able to capture two pictures of the 3 ½ year old, 145 inch deer, as he passed by our stand during the middle of the rut. With no more sightings of him throughout the winter and no sheds collected, all we could do was hope that he lived through the hunting season and would come back again a year later. When the 2012 bow season rolled around, we had a few nice deer on camera but not the buck we were patiently waiting for. The season slowly progressed without any sightings, of either the young buck we thought had great potential, or any other bucks we thought that we would take. Finally, in October, we had a giant 5 ½ year old 4x4 on our trail camera that

Trail camera pictures showing the impressive frame and huge brows that made Justin decide to hunt the big deer.

BELOW: The buck Justin was hunting previously was taken by another hunter, forcing him to switch gears.

It’s a good thing he did!

I had been targeting for two years. I put in hours and hours trying to get the big 4x4, and had numerous daylight sightings of him, both from the tree stand and on the trail camera. In fact, he was so visible and bold, that it was becoming extremely difficult to believe that he would survive the rifle season.

As November approached, we still had not been lucky enough to capture any pictures of the young buck we had such high hopes for years earlier. We decided to investigate a bedding area which sits about a mile from our stand. We found some great sign and big tracks, and left a trail camera along a heavy trail. After only three days, my dad called me on the phone with some great news. The buck was back, and he had exploded in the antler department! The now 4 ½ year old buck sported a 6x6, 170” typical frame with a few kickers off of the G2’s and G3’s and browtines that seemed to touch the sky!

Now I had a problem “Do I give up on the large 4x4 and focus on this deer again? Does this deer need another year to grow?”

These were questions we were now faced with. The questions were answered in short time as the large 4x4 was harvested

opening weekend of rifle season. He was a bruiser that carried 14” G2s and scored over 160 inches as a 4x4!

With the big 4x4 gone, I needed to decide if this buck was a shooter or not. I forced myself to analyze the potential he had, the score and the chances of him surviving another year.

These were again questions that were answered in short order as the Tuesday following rifle opener, the buck decided to make an appearance in front of our camera in the middle of the day! In three years, this was only the second time that he was in front of our stand during daylight, the first being the day he dropped an antler by my dad in 2010. It appeared that he was with a doe as the camera captured him twice as he chased a doe by the stand. For some reason, these pictures were all I needed to decide to beg the boss (wife) and my work boss for the rest of the week off and drive the six hours to my dad’s. Wednesday night was uneventful with only a few small bucks making an appearance in the food plots. I was already having doubts as I thought to myself “Was he locked down with that doe? Will he ever show in daylight again?”

Since it was the middle of the rut, Thursday the 15th of November, I could only imagine that it was a matter of time before this buck made another mistake. I just hoped that it happened while I was there, and I knew I would do everything in my power to make sure I was! It was around lunch time when I got an unexpected phone call from a great friend Cole Haberstroh asking if he could come film my hunt that evening. Of course I said yes, and we settled in the stand around 3:00 in the afternoon. The evening started out somewhat slow but we were in good spirits. As snow started to fall, the wind was finally changing to a northerly direction, and I hoped this change would get things moving. As deer started to pour out of the woods, we noticed a lot of movement coming from the west across an open field. It was hard to make out what these deer were until they reached the trees we were sitting in, so we didn’t pay too much attention to them. As darkness was approaching,

Cole noticed a large bodied deer coming across the field. As the deer hit the tree edge, I picked up my binoculars and immediately noticed an extremely large left browtine! It was the 6x6 and he was following a doe that was going to come by the stand at 20 yards. As the buck came out in to the open, Cole had the camera rolling flawlessly and I was shaking uncontrollably! Of course, in big buck fashion, the deer decided to stand at an angle straight for the tree stand and would not allow a clean bow shot. Just as I was about to faint from the blood loss to the brain, another smaller buck decided to chase the giants doe from the stand, which of course did not please the 6x6. As he turned to trot towards the smaller buck, I yelled at him twice to stop and without hesitation, released an arrow. The buck never did stop but the arrow flew true and I made a perfect shot as the arrow buried itself behind his left shoulder. The buck made it 50 yards before

hitting a tree head on as he stumbled. He mustered up enough strength to make it another 75 yards out of sight before crashing. Upon recovery of the deer in the dark, with my dad and Cole beside me, I was blown away by the true size of both his body and his rack. I had never under estimated a deer as bad as this one. He ended up scoring right at 170� as a 6x5 after breaking off his left side G5 and 3 kickers.

Although I have harvested a few nice deer, none of them compare to the effort, patience, faith, and a lot of luck that was needed for this buck. The amount of support by my dad, my wife, and my great friends was amazing and I cannot thank them enough! It is experiences like this that make us excited to get into the woods every season, and we can only sit back and think when the next big buck will make an appearance in our deer woods.

Living with Wolves: a hunter’s perspective BY: CHAD WILKINSON

A

s daylight faded I began the five mile trek back to my truck. It had been an uneventful evening of elk hunting. I’ve never been bothered by the dark, it’s just a part of what we do as hunters. We often walk to our destination under the cover of darkness and return at the end of each day under similar conditions. But that evening was different.

As I broke from the trees and began making my way across the stubble field, an indescribable uneasiness overwhelmed me. It’s difficult to articulate, but I thought about my backpack. No, it wasn’t on my back, where it was supposed to be; it was behind the seat in my truck. Several hours earlier I had decided to leave it behind. It was unseasonably warm that day and, in my haste, I had chosen to lighten my load and leave it behind. To make matters worse I realized I didn’t even have my hunting knife! Fueling my anxiety, I counted only two arrows in my quiver instead of the usual eight. It was then that I realized just how vulnerable I really was. Unaware of what was about to happen, instincts told me this could be cause for concern. Several minutes later I stepped on to the road. Somewhat relieved, I quickened my pace as the truck was still over a mile away … and then it happened.

Dangerous Encounter Forty yards ahead, I saw eight silhouettes milling around in the field. Common sense suggested they were deer. Straining to make out the shapes, it was too dark to identify any good bucks. As I got closer six of them took off running. I remember thinking it was odd that they made so much noise as they charged through the stubble, but really didn’t give it a second

thought. Two of them remained. I recognized that this was peculiar but continued down the road until I was perpendicular to them. I chuckled under my breath about how tame they were. Then, suddenly both of them bolted. It was so dark that I really had to squint to determine what was going on. Well, it only took a few seconds to realize that they were actually running toward me. Still not registering, I couldn’t believe these confused ‘deer’ would actually run right up to me! Then it registered …and I suddenly realized I was in trouble. These weren’t deer, but northern timber wolves! As long as I live I will never forget that moment. Surreal, the silhouettes ran through the ditch and up onto the road, pausing only a couple metres away from me. They were so close I could almost touch them! Now acutely aware of my predicament, at that moment, time stood still. Blood rushed to my feet and it felt as though pins were pricking my body. I’m not ashamed to say, the shock was so intense that I nearly passed out.

Before I fully knew what was going on, instincts kicked in; I wanted to run. In fact I even turned and lunged, but quickly acknowledged that that could trigger them to tackle me. With every fibre of my being I wanted to escape. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. I knew I had to think my way through this seemingly impossible situation. So I forced myself to stop, knowing that if I ran I would surely be attacked!

I turned to face the wolves head on, pulling one of the two arrows out of my quiver. Then, as loud as I could, I yelled.

Truth is it was so loud that I even surprised myself. Thankfully this stopped them and none too soon; they were now little more than a metre away. Now dealing with a stare down, their gleaming eyes, wet noses, and big ears were ominous. They appeared to be confused but excited. In fact they looked like my dog at home when he has a squirrel cornered. I thought to myself, “I am the squirrel”. I forced myself to calm down.

There would be no room for mistakes. Just as I had thought they were deer, I believe they thought maybe I was a deer or elk as well. To make matters worse, earlier in the afternoon I had dumped cow elk scent all over my pants. At that moment I sincerely wished I hadn’t done that. I slowly began backing up and cautiously continued walking in the direction of my truck, which incidentally was still almost a mile away. Both wolves stood and stared until I was about 10 metres away. What happened next is both confusing and scary. One of them came up and walked beside me while the other put his nose on my

A trail camera picture taken in the area where the author hunts showing a portion of the pack that lives there.

boot tracks. Seeing that, I cursed the elk scent once again. As quickly as I dared, I continued to walk. I couldn’t show fear and it couldn’t appear as though I was trying to escape. We walked for several minutes, and then I heard a commotion behind me. The back wolf was rushing me! I turned to face him again and stood my ground. The other one came a few steps closer, and then they both stopped just out of my reach.

I backed off again and resumed walking. Every 50 metres or so, they would rush me again. I soon realized that they were trying to get me to run.

I was angry at myself for being so unprepared.

Sensing that they were getting anxious, I was forced to run at them swinging my arrow a couple times - but they always stayed just out of my reach. Believe me, I thought about attempting a shot, but with only two arrows and no knife, I chose to keep my only real weapons in hand.

That walk seemed to take an eternity but eventually I saw the roof of my truck reflecting the moonlight. I sighed in relief and picked up my pace as much as I dared, always keeping a close eye on my escorts. By this time, the moon was high. I could see that they were both black wolves. I will never forget that image. Their tails were up over their backs and their mouths open, panting with excitement. As I glanced at the one walking beside me, something over his back caught my eye. Off in the distance I saw six more out in the field, and they were approaching fast! I looked at the truck and then back at them.

Would they get to me before I reached my truck?

I knew it would be close.

At moments like that, reality hits you hard.

Nature is cruel and you could well become a statistic if things go sideways. Looking back, this

may have been the most emotional moment for me. I pictured my father and brothers visiting the site and saying, “he almost made it back to his truck when they got him. He must have been able to see it”. It might sound melodramatic, but it is the truth. That is exactly what went through my mind at that moment. I picked up my pace and, fortunately reached the truck just before the rest of the pack. As my shaking hands tried to get the key into the door, I looked back to see one of the wolves standing by the tailgate staring at me. Finally the door opened, I jumped into the cab, quickly started the truck, and turned on

my lights in an effort to get a better look. Almost unbelievably they had vanished.

This was my first close, and in fact truly dangerous, encounter with wolves. With rapidly growing populations, we are living more and more with wolves. As these highly efficient predators continue to expand their range, and follow their prey out of the northern forests and closer to human development, this is a scenario that could occur more often. That encounter happened eight years ago. Since then, I have made an effort to learn everything I can about them, living and hunting side by side with them. Encounters have become a regular occurrence; I know they are all around me as I see wolf tracks on a regular basis.

Wolf Realities Over the years, several things have become clear. Like any other large predator, when you are hunting where wolves live, it only makes sense to be prepared. It is not a matter of if you will encounter wolves, but when. A high wolf population has a tremendous impact on ungulates. They are highly efficient hunters and when they are hungry they will kill. Wolves take injured or sick animals, but they also regularly prey on healthy ones as well. Living with wolves also means preparing your property for them. Rest assured, given the opportunity they will take dogs and livestock. Much like black bears, they are unpredictable. I have walked up on them many times. On occasion I have even pushed them off of a fresh kill. Most of the time they run away, but don’t be fooled, they can be dangerous.

One of the bigger males that the author was forced to shoot at close range after numerous encounters, including the final one when the big wolf aggresivvely approached domestic dogs near a home.

Like any predator, they will protect their kill. If you are a perceived threat, they will take steps to protect it.

I have also watched them interact with domestic dogs. Again, most often, they run away from a barking pet, but once in a while, they will go after them and when they do, they have the ability to easily kill a dog.

Hunting as a Management Tool We cannot forget the management implications associated with living with wolves. Those of us who are blessed to be able to spend a lot of time hunting will often pass on bucks until they reach five years of age or older. This works well where there are no wolves. However, in an area with a sizable population of wolves, six or seven year old bucks can be rare.

These are realities of living with wolves. They are incredibly smart, wary, majestic and potentially dangerous. It may seem that from a hunting perspective, living with wolves is negative in every way. However, there are positives. The most obvious benefit is increased hunting opportunity. A wolf hide in prime condition makes an impressive trophy. Wolves are challenging to hunt. They are extremely intelligent, and often seem to know when they are being pursued. Wolves cover large territories. This can make for a frustrating, but extremely rewarding, hunt when you finally take one. The fact is wolf numbers must be kept in check. Like most ungulate populations, hunting is and will continue to be, the best way to manage them, not to mention the fact that it’s a lot of fun for those of us who love the outdoors!

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Living and hunting side by side with wolves presents some unique challenges and opportunities that do not exist where wolves are absent. Photo by Hamilton Greenwood

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FELIX the

LUCKY BUCK BY: JOSH RAFUSE

Above: Josh Rafuse poses with the world class mule deer he finally anchored in November of 2013 after years of chasing the wily old buck. The numbers on Josh’s buck are truly jaw dropping. Start things off with a typical frame of 201 4/8” and then add 44” of abnormal points which results in a gross score of 245 4/8” and a net non-typical score of 239 3/8”. The relatively narrow inside spread of 19 5/8” is complimented by a longest G-2 of 18” and long, matching, 13” G-3s. The droptine on the right side is over 9” long and splits on the bottom.

Left: Josh’s brother Justin prepares to let an arrow fly at Felix early in 2012. The pair would have numerous chances at Felix throughout the years preceeding Josh’s successful harvest. They named the buck Felix, after Felix the cat because he seemed to have nine lives!

S

eptember 3rd, 2012. It was the day after a long bus trip from North Battleford, Saskatchewan, to Regina to watch the Roughriders trounce the Winnipeg Blue Bombers.

My hunting companions were suffering from a lack of sleep and excess alcohol so I was hunting solo this morning. I was late dragging myself out of bed, but I made it out shortly after sunrise. Immediately, at the first spot I checked, I noticed a few deer feeding on a side hill. I quickly picked out one large buck followed by another smaller one. The deer had moved up the side hill and disappeared over the top. I knew this area quite well so I left the deer and made my way back home to round up the hunting crew. I picked up my brother Justin and his fiancé Kristi, as well as my girlfriend Ashley. We started walking and glassing the area where I thought the deer moved to. Almost immediately, Ashley and I spotted the smaller of the two bucks bedded below us on the edge of a small bush.

The young buck knew something was up and stood out of his bed. As soon as the smaller buck got up, the big buck stood up, out of the shadows of the bush, and followed his little buddy in exiting the area. The two deer moved about a quarter mile and bedded down in the adjacent field. A quick plan was put together. The end result had Justin and me stalking to 20 yards, only to have the wind swirl and both deer bounce out to 60 yards. I had a video camera in hand and filmed the whole thing, while Justin let loose an arrow, which turned out to be a complete miss.

We left the deer alone for a few hours. Later that day, we went back to an area we thought they may have sought refuge in. Sure enough, we spotted the deer again and another plan was put into action. The plan quickly ended though, because the buck decided to stand and started feeding away from us before we had stalked close enough for a shot. This failed attempt was followed by two more failed attempts that evening, with my younger brother Jordan and my older brother Justin both getting chances.

After many failed opportunities we decided to name this deer Ashley Blaquiere with her first ever archery mule, a 170” beauty taken while her and Josh were hunting Felix.

Felix, after Felix the cat, based on the fact he seemed to have nine lives! There were many other sightings and opportunities throughout the 2012 season. Including one where Felix trotted through our shooting lane at 20 yards! He never stopped long enough to get a shot off, but moments later Ashley was able to harvest her first mule deer with her bow. He was a beautiful 170 inch deer. I searched high and low for Felix throughout the rest of the season with no sightings. He had completely disappeared. It wasn’t until after whitetail season had ended that Justin had notified me that he was pretty sure Felix ran across the road in front of him late one night. Every chance I had, throughout the very tough winter, I was back in the area hoping for a sighting, or one of his shed antlers. Neither of which happened. Many deer didn’t make the winter of 2012, and all I could do was hope Felix was strong enough to survive.

September 2013 brought me back to the same area with thoughts of Felix still in my mind. A couple of nice bucks were spotted but nothing worth taking. Our second day out walking the area, we spotted a giant and a few other small bucks on a field edge. Through the binoculars it became immediately apparent that this was Felix! I was in awe that he not only survived but put on A LOT of horn after such a tough winter.

He had stickers everywhere, a giant typical frame, long sweeping main beams and a very unique drop tine. Suddenly I was happy that we had failed to take him in 2012. He was now a deer of a lifetime, and I had a draw mule deer tag in my pocket!

Since I had a draw tag we decided not to pressure the deer and wait for a perfect opportunity to get close to him. We decided to leave Felix alone that first evening and quietly exited the area. We found him again the next morning and cut him off on his way back to the same field as the night before. He moved past Justin and I at 90 yards, into the field. It was a tall crop and there was not much wind, so we backed off once again.

That evening we joined Jordan and headed to the same field.

We spotted Felix leaving the field early with his buddies. They bedded down just off the field edge in the pasture. I took this opportunity for a stalk and made it to 90 yards when a coyote came over the hill near the deer, pushing the deer out of their beds and on their way back to the bush. Chalk another one up for Felix! Throughout the next two weeks, even more sightings and opportunities were had, and all with the same result. We were still empty handed and were now wondering if we would

ever close the deal on this buck of a lifetime.

Although we had many encounters, we were very careful to never give ourselves away or spook him badly. Finally one morning Justin, my father Glen, and I watched Felix go back to the same field and bed down once again. This time we were able to watch exactly where he bedded down. Justin and I put a stalk on him, eventually closing the distance to 30 yards. Justin ran the camera while I got ready for my opportunity. Felix stood up, out of the crop, and quartering away. Although it was a tough angle I felt comfortable with the shot. I let loose an arrow which was immediately followed by a large “Whack” as the arrow hit the deer. Felix trotted off looking confused, but not hurt in any way. Upon closer inspection, we found minimal blood and a very short blood trail. Upon reviewing the video footage it was soon evident that the arrow hit the deer on the shoulder and with the hard angle, the arrow just glanced off and never penetrated at all. I was devastated! I had my opportunity at a once in a lifetime deer and blew it.

Every possible chance I had I was back in the area, looking and praying I would see him alive. For the next half of September and all of October neither I nor any of our hunting party saw Felix again. We thought that perhaps that was our one chance, and it was gone.

November brought rifle season and a hope that I would spot Felix trying to track down some does. On November 2nd my father and I were driving down an old back road in Felix`s area when we spotted a nice buck on the side hill. We were glassing the deer when all of a sudden he turned around and postured up, the hair stood up on his back and he started walk-

ing sideways toward the bush above him, but where was the deer he was posturing towards? We quickly parked the truck and walked into the hills hoping to circle around the bushes up top and spot the deer without being winded. The first bush we came around, a deer popped up and took off. He had a big frame and I was pretty sure I saw a drop tine. I only had a split second before he hit the bush. As if by instinct, I shot and immediately heard the reply of a hit. While my father walked in on his trail, I circled the bush. Although my shot hit its mark, the buck came out and I put another shot into him to quickly finish him off. Sure enough it was Felix! I couldn’t believe my good fortune to finally be able to take this deer after two years, countless hours and hundreds of miles in pursuit of him. To have harvested him with my dad, who taught me everything I know about hunting, wildlife and the great outdoors, was the icing on the cake.

Felix ended up scoring 245 4/8 gross and 239 3/8 net non-typical green score. With a gross typical frame of 201 4/8 he is absolutely magnificent. I must give credit to my parents, Glen and Pat, brothers, Justin and Jordan, my sister in law Kristi and my very understanding girlfriend, Ashley. They supported and helped me throughout this wild experience with Felix, through all the highs and lows. I also would like to say a big thankyou to the landowners who continually let us hunt on their land. None of this is possible without the understanding and accepting landowners. We were also very fortunate to have a video camera along for most of our encounters, capturing my quest for “ Felix”. I don’t think I will ever get tired of watching the footage or looking at him on my wall.

BY: MIKE CURRIE

Mike Currie and his son Jayden with the giant typical whitetail that Mike was able to anchor after two long years persuing the buck. With an official score of 189 7/8, and a net score of 187�, the typical 6x6 is the highest scoring typical whitetail entered into the Saskatchewan record book in 2013.

T

he story began on September 1st. I was travelling a rain soaked road when I came across a huge track. I immediately grabbed one of my Uway trail cameras and headed out. There was a bush only a few hundred yards away that looked like a great place to start. I studied the area, found a spot that looked good and hung the camera. I checked the camera regularly for a couple weeks. There was one good 5x4, but he was not what I was looking for. On September 15th, I decided to move my Uway to a new location. I had the laptop with me and decided I would check the SD card before I left the area and it was a good thing I did!

One of the first pictures on the Uway was a great looking 7x6! It was a buck we would later name Splitter. He had been in three days in a row, so it wasn't long and the Uway was secure to the tree again, and I was planning my ambush.

The next afternoon I headed out, setting up back 250 yards or so, to see if I could learn a bit more about his tendencies. I had my bow with me and was just hoping to find out what direction he was coming from. With an hour before sunset I caught a glimpse of movement to my right side. It was the two bucks that Splitter was travelling with, a nice 5x4 that would push 160 and a young 5x5.

My anticipation was starting to grow as I watched the two bucks slip past me at 20. My setup was good and they casually walked by. As I sat motionless, I thought I caught some movement to my left.

Sure enough it was him! Unfortunately, he had already passed my shooting lane so I sat tight and hoped he would crest the hill so I could get a shot. He was only 30 yards away but I had no shot. He stayed in cover the whole way, not presenting a shot until he walked out the far end. I got my range finder out and zapped him, 60 yards. I put the release on the d-loop and was just starting to draw on him when the other little buck came over and started to fight with Splitter! I didn’t have a clear shot and after 15 minutes of playing around, they were now at less than 80 yards. I decided to pass on the risky shot, thinking that “I now know where he is coming from”.

Over the next couple weeks I sat just about every night. I was seeing the two bucks that he was with on camera every night, but he would never come at the

2012 same time as them. He went totally nocturnal. The only good thing is that he was on camera ever night within a half hour of legal time. This meant he must be on his feet at legal time. My quest to find his bedding area had begun.

After a few frustrating weeks without a glimpse of splitter, it was time to take a break and go for an archery muley hunt with my son, Jayden, brother Kelly, and friends Blake and Brad. The entire time out muley hunting all I could think of was Splitter.

We had a great hunt, but didn’t have any luck. I didn’t care because I was so excited to get home and check the Uways.

After pulling the cards, I saw that not much had changed.

He was in every night and multiple times but still no daytime pictures. He was still running with his same two pals’. I kept hunting hard, every chance I got sitting farther and farther from the camera. Now into the muzzle loader season I decided it was time to put the bow away and grab my .45 to improve my chances. It was the middle of October now and I still had not had a single glimpse of him since the first night.

I continued to go deeper into the area, trying to find his bedding area. I was encouraged when one day, while I was up on a hill glassing, the 5x4 and young 5x5 that he was traveling with popped out of some thick willows. I was excited because where they came out was in range and there was still two hours of legal time! The next two hours went past and no sign of him. I went and discovered that Splitter disappeared from my camera, which is normal for bucks to do at this time of the year. It looked like Splitter wasn't welcome in this area and the much bigger bodied 5x4 had chased him off.

In desperation, I grabbed my cameras from my other places and spread them all around the area hoping to find his new home. In the first week of the rifle season, he showed up at one of the other cameras. The only problem was it was still always at night. With little faith or hope I starting sitting at the new home of Splitter but nothing changed, and he remained hidden. The rifle season was now almost over and still not one more sighting. It was November 30th and I was on my way out from the morning hunt. I decided to take a little drive down a back road on my way back for lunch. Being the middle of the day I wasn't holding my breath that I would see anything and started to putter my way home. I didn't make it a half mile and noticed movement. I put up my binos, well holy $&&$

2013 it was Splitter! He was across a huge valley and far enough away that I need a range before I could take a shot. I pulled the range finder out and zapped him. He was 525 yards. I got out and lay down on the ground. I was about to pull the trigger when he started to walk. At this distance I knew I needed a standing broadside shot, with everything just right. So I held off and hoped he would stop. Instead of stopping, he started to run! That was the last time I would see Splitter in 2012.

It was now early December and I only had a few days left to hunt. I decided I would give that spot a break for a day and try another one that I had that I had another deer on. It was a clean 5x5 that I thought would go in the mid 160s. I took the shot, and must admit that my thoughts remained on Splitter when I walked up the buck. I couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed.

I hoped that Splitter would survive the rest of the hunting season. After the season, while checking trail cameras, he hadn’t made an appearance until December 19th when I finally got pictures of him again and was relieved to see he had survived!

Now the work began. I loaded a round alfalfa bale and a few garbage pails of oats. It was a lot of work but I was determined to help the deer through the winter. I continued to take alfalfa and oats for the rest of the winter. By mid-February all the bucks had lost their antlers, so I wasn’t sure if he was still around. All I could do now was hope he would make the very long and cold winter.

Finally, summer rolled around and I was off to start hanging cameras. My first stop was an easy one. I would start by putting three cameras up where Splitter had been the previous year. Then I could only pray he would show up. It wasn’t long and my prayers were answered! Splitter had made the winter and had a little different look. He had lost his split brow tine which gave him his name. Even without the split, he kept his name. After those first few pictures, the sleepless nights and frustration of hunting such a smart old buck began again.

Splitter would get a bit of a break this year. My brother Kelly, nephew Ty, friend Blake and I were drawn for elk in our home zone. Draw elk tags are rare, so we made it a priority to get out after them. On September 7th, I was the first to put a tag on a nice bull that I took with my new muzzleloader. My bull scored 317" and I was very happy to get a chance to use my new muzzleloader. The next day Ty took a very nice 300+” 6x6 bull. Over the next few days and weeks

Ty, Blake, and Kelly all managed to take very nice bulls. I snuck out a couple times to hunt Splitter but I had no luck.

I was beginning to realize that the second year of hunting Splitter was turning out to be much the same as the first. He was strictly nocturnal and becoming less predictable with days between pictures sometimes. It was now part way through the muzzy season and I had still not put my eyes on him. Getting frustrated and a little moody, it was time for a break. An archery mule deer hunt did the trick and had me refreshed and ready to chase Splitter once again.

Once back home, I checked my cameras and sure enough he had disappeared again. The nice thing was that this year I knew where he was going. I set a camera up where he had shown up last year, and sure enough he was there! However, he was still not coming until after legal time. I continued to hunt until the end of muzzy season with no luck. Now it was the long two week wait for rifle season to start. During the two weeks we couldn't hunt, I continued to check cameras. On the way to check them one day I arrived to find all the gates close and wires shut. This was odd because there had been cows in there for years and it was November, well past prime grazing season.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the cattle were wreaking havoc and Splitter disappeared. I gathered up my cameras once again and placed them all around the area.

My hope was fading, as it had now been two weeks and I had yet to get a picture of him. On November 19th we went out to push a few bushes in the area and check a few cameras. The days of pushing bush was uneventful, as was the card check. I hunted the next few days, and finally on the 21st, he showed up on a camera. Not only was he on the cam again, but it was in broad daylight! He was in at noon on the 20th. We had missed him by one day as that was the bush we pushed on the 19th!

He had snuck through the cracks again, but the daytime photo gave me hope again. That night when I was lying in bed, I had a feeling that I would finally see him again.

When morning came, I went down the hall and woke up my sidekick. He was not long jumping out of bed and heading down for a quick bite. We loaded our stuff into the truck and started making our way to Splitter’s turf. Once we got out there we set up and waited for the sun to rise. We sat glassing for 20-30 minutes and didn't see an animal. We checked another spot with the same result before continuing on to a third spot.

When we got there I received a text from my brother who was hunting 40 miles away. His text said "2 fawns, 2 does and 2 moose, but not a buck”. I sent a reply back to him, “Haven't even seen an animal.” The moment I hit send I looked back to the valley. There was a deer making his way out of the bottom.

I took one quick look with my binos and new without a doubt what deer it was. I said to Jayden “It’s splitter!” He was making his way up and across the other side of the valley. He was just slowly walking and didn't seem to be spooked. I put a shell in the chamber and got the bi-pod set to the right height. I had shot a deer in this exact spot three years before and knew the route that the deer take to try and get away. He was going to try and walk through the thick bush on the side hill then get in a little draw that would take him to the top of the valley. From

Brad Minshull of Prairieland Taxidermy did great job preserving Mike’s trophy for years to come.

there he would go straight out the top of the valley and straight away. If this happened there would be very little chance of a shot. So now it was a waiting game for him to present a good shot. I had already ranged out a few spots on his path and was waiting now. I knew my shot would be between 325 and 375 yards. I just needed him to stop and give me a shot. He would walk from one thick patch to the next, then stop and look around. He did this four or five times, but did not offer a shot.

As he approached a big bluff, he stopped and looked around.

Finally! When he stopped this time there was a clearing right through to his vitals. I took the safety off and squeezed the trigger. There was a thud! I quickly chambered another bullet as he turned to go up a steep part of the hill. I squeezed off a second shot with another thud. He disappeared right after the second shot. I didn't know if he dropped or was on the move in the thick bush.

We sat and glassed for a minute. By this time we were getting pretty cold so we set off to get the truck. We pulled the truck up to where we could glass for a bit and make sure he wasn't still on the move. At this time I sent a text back to my brother, “Just shot Splitter!” His reply was “How big is he?” I said “not sure, haven't found him yet but will call as soon as we do.” We sat glassing for 20 minutes and didn’t see anything so we decided to go have a look. We made our way to the other side of the hill and started the hike in. Once we got a bit closer there were two paths that he could have been on. I told Jayden to pick one path and I would go down the other. I also said to go very slow take your time and look all around every step. I had

barely got into the bush when I heard Jayden yell. “He's over here!” I could hear the excitement in his voice when I yelled back, “Is he down?” His reply was simply “Yep”. I couldn’t believe that I was finally going to get my hands on the deer that had fooled me time and time again. As I was coming down the hill and through the little path I could start to see the red of Jayden’s jacket. I was getting close and couldn't wait! I can’t describe the level of excitement, and as I approached the buck he didn't have any ground shrinkage! A very special part of the hunt and recovery is that I got to share it with my sidekick. He was the one who found the deer, and was very excited as well!

He is now hooked and we hunt together regularly. I know that all he ever seems to hear is, "I think we can find a better one".

By the time I got to the buck, he had the deer brushed off and was holding his antlers up like they were his own. He was also

very excited for me because he knew how much time I had put into trying to get this deer. I knew I must have been glowing because Jayden said, “I have never seen you pumped before!”

After looking him over for a few minutes we got out the knives and got the tags put on him. I first sent a text to my wife to let her know I had finally got him. She was also pumped that I had got him, but it was for different reasons. She was sick of hearing about Splitter by this time and even sicker of me being gone all the time! I followed that with a quick text to my brother Kelly, and then my brother in law Jeff to come and take some pictures, and finally our good friends Nolan, Jamie and Halley who could come help get him back to the truck.

My buck ended up with an official score of 189 7/8 gross and 187 net typical and is the number one typical that went into the Saskatchewan record book for 2013!

Early morning elk shed.

Photo by Shawn Danychuk

I

n this issue of BGI we are going to talk about the spot.

You know the place. It’s that place we all seem to be searching for but rarely find. It’s the, “I’ll know it when I see it” kind of place. A place that just is, one that can’t be created by man, a place that just works!

Looking back on my guiding career I can pick any species and instantly remember The Spot. When I guided full time for Dall Sheep in the NWT, there was a certain creek I could always count on finding an old Ram in. It looked just like so many other lush green valleys around, but for some reason the old boys liked it there best. If I was after Mountain Caribou, there was one particular rock on the edge of a steep mountain valley that was The Spot. I don’t know why, but every bull within miles would eventually walk right by that huge boulder.

The same holds true for whitetails. I have a stand in my Saskatchewan guiding territory that is one of the most un-

likely looking whitetail spots you or I will ever see, but year in and year out we always kill a big old buck there. Likewise, for Mountain Goats and even Grizzly’s I have The Spot, but up until this past fall, a go to Moose Spot had always eluded me.

I’ve guided maybe 30 odd Moose hunts over the years, certainly not many by a full time Moose guide’s standards, but enough to have covered a bit of country. I’ve spent full seasons in the NWT, Alberta, the Yukon, and recently, northern British Columbia, where I have always been on the search for The Moose Spot, and this year, I think I found it!

My good buddy and client Dennis Stabe from Brewster, New York, called me out of the blue one day and informed me he wanted to go Moose hunting again.

“Sounds good”, I told him, as I proceeded to ask a few questions, like, what type of hunt do you want? Float trip, Helicopter, Horseback, bow or gun?

THE SPOT

Dennis as always, left most of the when and wheres to me, but was positive on one thing.

“I would really like to call a few in, just like you see on TV, with their eyes rolling back in their head”!

A year later I was picking Dennis up at the airport followed by a 3 hour drive along a winding mountain road until finally pulling into camp late that afternoon. The rest of the day we spent picking out horses, organizing tack, packing food panniers, and checking gear. Any fear of not sleeping the eve before the hunt was easily forgotten, thanks to good old fashioned hard work and fresh air.

Bright and early the next morning we found ourselves on the trail. With our pack string comprised of “experienced” ponies, we had little trouble along the way and rode into camp later that afternoon. With plenty to do before dark, we went right to work unpacking the horses. Knot after knot was quickly broken and what took hours to carefully set just so,

now took only minutes to undo. Once the heavy loads hit the ground, I went to unsaddling while Dennis organized gear and located a suitable spot for our tent. In short order the horse bells began to clang, as one by one I relieved them of their duties, and horse camp sounded as it should.

The year before, only 20 minutes from this camp, I had found a series of large ponds that appeared to have a little moose sign at them. Having taken a bull there the very first day, I didn’t get a chance to really hunt the area to find out if it was in fact good or if I had just gotten lucky. Now I was back to find out!

Looking at my watch after our chores were done, we had just enough time to hike down to one of the ponds and hunt the last hour or so before dark. With it being the very beginning of the rut, my plan was to slip along the downwind side of the largest pond and simply wait to see if anything was around. I didn’t want to do any blind calling, in fear of bump-

ing any bulls that had already found an early mate.

The wait was short. We had just found a comfortable spot to sit with a good view of the most likely entry points when we heard a deep grunt. The cow walked out into the knee deep water first. The grunts got deeper and deeper until a flash of antler caught our eyes back in the thick pine forest. The cow looked back over her shoulder as the king of the woods stepped out in full view. He was a great looking old Canadian bull!

From our vantage point 120 yards downwind, we would easily run out of light before the pair had time to work their way down to us, so with plenty of cover, we backed away from the edge. The mature pines that ringed the entire pond gave us the perfect corridor to slip in closer. The soft moss of the forest floor dampened any noise that we made and in no time we were within range of the moose. The cow was 10 yards out from the edge and we were 30 yards from that. The bull, who was watching her every move, took a few steps closer and was now standing guard 15 yards further out. We dropped to our knees, left our packs, and easily crawled another 20 yards closer. The thick ring of younger pines, that gave us plenty of cover for a stalk, were now a problem. We were within Dennis’ comfort zone for a shot, but the thick trees blocked any chance of getting an arrow through. We sat motionless until dark and slipped back to camp.

The next day we were back at the ponds. It was one of those post card type mornings….steam floated upwards off the calm water, a light frost coated the marsh grass, the sky was blue, and the moose rut was rockin’! No sooner had we reached the ponds and the sound of a rutting bull echoed through the mountain valley. I immediately answered and so did the bull!

Believe it or not, over the next three hours we called in three different bulls. The first one was maybe a four year old, but

what he lacked in age and antler size he made up for in aggression. After feverishly working over a willow bush he came in on a rope! Slowly he swayed back and forth, making his way across the open pond to where we anxiously awaited his arrival, behind a couple of old tree trunks. The term, I could have literally reached out and touched him, came to mind, as he stopped inside of 10 yards. The cameras rolled as heavy steam rose off his body and bellowed from his nostrils with each grunt. The visual perfection of the moment was incredible!

Bull number two and three were a little bigger and older.

Both appeared to be just funneling through the valley and as they crossed the open pond I hit them with a grunt. The second bull that morning came in much like the first; on a rope!

One short grunt was all he needed to commit to 15 yards. Bull number 3 was a little more stubborn. He needed a bull grunt and a soft cow call to be coaxed in from across the pond. He pulled up at 40 yards, stood broadside, and posed. He was a pretty good bull and we gave him some consideration, but with it only being the first full day and with the bulls obviously responsive to calls, I wanted to get another look at the big one from the night before.

By the fourth day we had called eight different bulls into bow range and we were becoming addicted to the ponds, but still no big guy from day one. Each day we would see new bulls; they would typically show up from late morning to early afternoon and every one of them responded well to calling.

This was never more evident than late in the afternoon on day four when we had one of the greatest encounters I have ever been a part of in the wild.

By now we had their movements patterned pretty well and had found the perfect natural blind behind a fallen spruce tree, right on the water’s edge. Forty yards to our left there were

at least three major trails coming in through the marsh grass, and to our right, we could see all the way down to the far end of the pond, 150 yards away. The first bull that afternoon entered right behind a cow at the far end, grunting all the way. It didn’t even seem fair to call he was so “rutted up”, but of course I did. He was by far the most sure of himself as the swaying began immediately and the grunting never stopped. If we wanted to throw a saddle on him I am positive we could have, but before he got close enough, we heard another grunt to our left, coming to the pond, or should I say coming to the ring! This new bull’s cow reached the water first, pulling up at 9 yards from our make shift blind, and began feeding on the bottom. The original bull, now spotting the cow, began to show off. The new bull didn’t like it.

What transpired over the next few minutes is impossible to describe with words. It was one of those rare wildlife encounters we all dream about, but few get to witness. From thirty yards, the sheer raw power those two beasts displayed that day was scary. Hair, mud, and water exploded, all the while the cow ate leisurely in front of us at 6 yards. If she cared at all who won her hand she sure didn’t show it! I did my best to capture the fight, having to film over and around the cow, all the while not wanting to spook her, and possibly influencing the duration of the fight. Dennis and I exchanged wide-eyed “I can’t believe ITs!”, over the next few minutes as the bulls continued to battled for keeps. I eventually remembered we were still hunting and found myself trying to count points on the bigger, older bull, to see if he was legal to take. It wasn’t until the old bull finally over powered the younger instigator, and stared in our direction, that I could tell he was one point shy of meeting the 10 required for the zone we were in. A regulation that proved to save the old guy’s life that day, as it would have made for the greatest video sequence ever, if Dennis’ arrow could have ended the fight.

The following day we returned to the ponds and called in a couple of new bulls yet again. One of which didn’t want to snap out of his crazy eyed trance and literally tried to get in the blind with us. But by the end of the day we still hadn’t seen the big guy we were after, so the next morning we decided to switch things up a little by saddling up Doc and old Clyde.

Our plan was to head up the valley, not only to see some new country but to also give the ponds a bit of a rest.

After reaching the top of the valley in about 4 hours, we tied up and began to glass. Instantly we spotted a Grizzly bear, and by the looks of it, not just any grizzly bear. In all of my years of guiding I had never seen such a beast! Belly dragging on the ground, check! Front end as big as his back end, check!

Looks like you could throw a saddle on him, check! Massive head and no ears, check! This was easily the largest interior Grizzly I had ever seen, one small problem though, no tag! It didn’t take long to get over the gut ache of not having a Grizzly tag though. Dennis had already spotted a good bull across the valley, while I was still drooling over the bear. The moose looked decent through the spotting scope, but before I could get a good look he took one step into the thick, stunted balsam trees and vanished. With the bull on the move we hustled off our rocky look out, ran down to the horses, untied, and headed towards the bull as quickly as a couple of 2,000 lb Percheron crossed horses can go, so ya, not very fast!

By the time we were in the vicinity of where I thought the bull had been, we were too close to the hillside to see much of anything. It was time to call. Dennis was still tying up old Clyde when I heard the first response. It was instant and decisive, there was no question he was coming! We picked up the pace as we needed to cover a couple hundred yards to reach some open country. Dennis readied his bow on the run as I let out the odd grunt to direct the bull to our new location. I found a series of tiny hills with the best open area we were going to find. The willows were still 5 feet tall but there were a few thinner spots to send an eager arrow through if the bull continued to cooperate.

I heard a bellowing grunt just before I saw the antler tip, he was cooperating alright. I set up Dennis in front of me just

www.saskbowhunters.ca

as the lumbering bull swayed into full view, 40 yards away. He wasn’t quite crazy eyed yet, but far enough gone to work in closer with a challenge. He held up at 30 yards, looking right at us with his head just above the willows. I grunted and he kept coming. Dennis, now a few yards in front of me and to the right, raised his bow as the bull swayed side to side, veering broadside at 15 yards. With his bow now fully stored with energy, Dennis found a pocket through the willows and sent a killing arrow on its way.

The following day we rode our pack string the 3 hours up the valley and brought Dennis’ bull back to camp. The day after that we climbed a couple of mountains and toppled Dennis’ first Mountain Goat, leaving us one last day before having to

trail back to base camp. There was no question what we were going to do on our last day, back to the ponds we went!

We made it down in record time to our fallen log. The pond was calm as we got our camera gear ready and before we knew it a mature cow walked out right in front of us.

We filmed her for awhile and waited and waited but she wasn’t with who we were hoping to see. Eventually the old cow wandered down to the far end of the pond and disappeared out the corner.

I saw movement first, followed by what I thought was a grunt. Straining to see what was going to appear, I could make out what I thought was an antler in the exact spot where the cow had just left. Sure enough, it was a bull, but he didn’t appear to be with the cow as he stepped in the clear and headed for the water.

He was about 200 yards out and quartering towards when I realized who it was! Sure enough, it was the same bull we had watched the very first night, the same bull we so patiently waited to see again. We had nothing to lose now, I gave him a hearty grunt to see what he would do. He didn’t hear me, I grunted even louder. He heard me this time, turning in our direction, marching straight towards us!

“There was no way this was happening”, I thought to myself.

At one point he zoned out and began straying from our direction, but a couple more loud grunts set him straight. He was back on track, confidently covering the 200 yards, one rut crazed step at a time. Eventually he stood motionless at 25 yards, perfectly broadside. The scene was picture perfect once again as he stood there for minutes.

I was now secretly glad we hadn’t called to him that very first day. If he would have responded like he was now, one of Dennis’ arrows surely would have cheated us out of all the action we had been treated to over the past 10 days.

Eventually the old bull grew tired of us and reluctantly walked away.

It was a fitting way to end our hunt, as not only had we found Thee Moose Spot but I think we also found Thee Bull for next year!

Worst Case ScenarioPart 2 CAM JONES

As last issue’s article touched on, there is alot to be gained by giving careful consideration to broadhead selection, especially if the shot is not ideal! Making the right selection with a broadhead could contribute to the difference between recovering that animal when the shot goes wrong or following a blood trail with no reward at the end.

Now while many bowhunters do, in fact, give careful thought to the type of broadhead they use to increase their set-ups efficiency, very few consider how arrow dynamics come into play when bowhunting. Basic arrow dynamics for many starts and ends with the accuracy equation, in other words when I screw on my broadhead is it hitting where I am aiming and hitting the target nice and square? Now while this is of course extremely important, equally so is what happens when the arrow makes contact with your game animal. I like to call this ‘impact dynamics’.

Now here is where the importance of understanding front of center (F.O.C.) becomes your very best friend when you’re bowhunting. F.O.C. is essentially the percentage of the arrow’s overall weight that is found forward of its balance point. You have likely noticed with all the new arrow offerings each year that the trend for light weight arrow components has given way to inserts that weigh significantly more than they have in the past. What manufacturers are accomplishing with greater insert weight is a boosting of the arrow’s F.O.C. numbers. So

just how does this benefit a bowhunter in the way the arrow behaves on impact? Here’s an illustration to help. Imagine your arrow is a train about to hit something large, square on the tracks. On initial impact the forward momentum of the engine is slowed briefly but no one told that to the cars behind, so they keep moving forward jumping clean off the track – out of line with the front of the engine! An arrow with low F.O.C. behaves this way on impact, since a larger percentage of the arrow’s weight is found behind its balance point. This extra rear weight, or ‘cars’ as it where wants to ‘jump the tracks’, taking all that forward momentum out of line with its intended path.

Those impact dynamics create un-wanted arrow flex and all that side-to-side motion creates penetration robbing friction on the wound channel. Now imagine that same train with the extra weight of the cars found mostly in the engine with very few cars behind it – this is essentially an arrow with high F.O.C, creating a far more impact efficient arrow that loses very little of its forward momentum to unwanted flex or ‘track jumping’ weight from the back. Keeping arrow energy and momentum in a straight line for longer wound channels (and ideally an exit hole!!) is what it’s all about!

The average arrow set-up for many will typically have stock F.O.C. of anywhere from 8-14% but research has proven that increasing that to 18%, or more, creates a far more efficient arrow with a very high tendency for pass-through performance, or at the very least substantial increases in penetration. The added bonus to our good friend F.O.C. is he also brings along better flight dynamics and stability too! Simple ways to boost F.O.C. can be gained by shortening your arrow length if possible, increasing broadhead weight or reducing nock and vane weight. Utilizing heavier inserts as mentioned or inserts that accept weight systems is also a great way to increase your arrow performance.

So regardless of your set-up, it just makes sense to harness as much of modern bow efficiencies as you can with a highly efficient hunting arrow. Bumping up F.O.C. is a key way to do this and doing so will help turn that worse case scenario into a wall mount with a great story!

BY: MICHAEL MA

I

t was 4am on September 1st, 2012 and I was alone, headed south for what has grown to be my favorite hunt of the year, chasing after big old mulie bucks with my bow. Normally my long time hunting buddy Brock Nelson would be with me but he had other responsibilities on the family farm, harvest was in full swing. Brock and I had been making this trip since we were 16 and old enough to drive and hunt on our own. In our early years we didn’t have much success, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Taking a look back now I realize we were doing almost everything wrong. From tossing rocks at bedded bucks trying to get them to stand for a shot, to aimlessly trudging across miles of pasture land with the wind at our back only to see the south end of north bound monster bucks time and time again, we made many mistakes, and had a lot of fun. While there are a select few people that make it look like you can just head to the hills and shoot a 200’’ buck any day of the week, I’ve learned it just isn’t that easy.

5:30 AM . . . the anticipation was killing me, and I was once again peering through my spotting scope, searching every inch of the landscape for a monster buck to chase after. A couple hours passed and I had spotted a couple decent young

bucks, there just wasn’t anything that I wanted to go after. I hiked from my perch back to the truck to try some different area. I searched high and low opening day but it passed by all too fast without any big gnarly bucks spotted. My eager anticipation soon faded. On the drive back to the motel room that evening I received a phone call from Brock informing me that he would be able to join me the next day because a rain shower had put a delay on his farming. I thought “Great, maybe he will bring some luck with him!” It always helps to have a second set of eyes when searching for those big bucks lurking in the shadows.

The next morning we were headed out to one of our favorite spots, staring through our spotting scopes at first light.

Not long into the morning I spotted what looked like a good buck over half a mile away browsing in the bottom of a valley working away from us. The buck soon disappeared into a little finger that came off the main valley. I was unsure if the buck was worth going after right away because I hadn’t really had a decent look at him. Brock thought he seen a couple stickers out one side, but he wasn’t positive either. With me thinking that Brock was “full of it” and him not being sure what he saw,

Michael Ma poses with the two incredible bucks he took in 2012. Not many people will kill an animal of that quality in a lifetime of hunting, let alone two in the same year! His big whitetail has a gross typical score of 192 5/8” and after very few deductions, ended up netting 189 2/8”. The most striking feature is the brow tines which carry a total of more than 30” of antler. His big mule deer is equally impressive with a gross score of 201 3/8”. The massive velvet buck has great mass with the largest measurement being 6 6/8” and the total amount of abnormal antler measuring 31 1/8”. Photo by Joel Elias. we decided to move on and keep looking and come back if we didn’t find anything else. We searched for another few hours with not much luck so decided to try and get a better look at him. With a strong west wind and no other options, we decided that the best bet would be to go in on foot and try to spot him or his antlers before he spotted us. As we approached the finger, Brock stayed back and I crept in to see what I could find. I was sneaking through the grassy bottom, and I would stop every few steps to scan with my binos, searching for any sign of an ear twitch or piece of velvet sticking up out of the brush. I was halfway through the finger, thinking the buck had

likely given us the slip like big bucks are known to do. When I looked up, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There he was, standing 30 yards in front of me! He was looking straight away and man did he look big!! I quickly hit the deck before he had any chance to spot me, this was a gift from above and I was not going to mess this up. Brock thought he saw stickers and boy he was right! It looked like there were points coming off everywhere. As I peered through the dense cover at his huge rack, I couldn’t believe it! No sooner had the buck stood up, then he bedded right back down, but this time I had a clear view of his horns. The game was on! I motioned for Brock to come join

me and we easily worked our way to 20 yards from the buck.

The waiting game began. . . It took two long hours but he finally stood up again and began to browse. I came to full draw on my knees, but I hadn’t really realized how thick the brush was between me and the buck, and I was scrambling, scooting back and forth trying to find a window for a shot. Before I knew it, the buck bedded back down, thankfully unaware of our presence, but without offering me a shot. I couldn’t believe we had him standing at 20 yards and I still couldn’t get off a clean shot.

I told myself that that wasn’t going to happen again. With nearly hurricane winds blowing in my face, I felt that my best chance was to get closer. Brock stayed back and I kept inching closer and closer. Before I knew it I was only eight yards away!!

I sat there with my legs going numb for what seemed like an eternity, wondering if he was ever going to stand again. I was half asleep when I glanced up to look at the fuzzy antlers that I had been staring at for the last three or so hours and I realized something wasn’t the same, instead of fuzzy antlers there was a

Michael and his dad Tony with a great mule deer buck taken by Tony.

patch of brown fur. He was on his feet again! I quickly hitched my release, the buck took two steps into a perfect shooting lane, stopped and turned his head away from me to scratch his rear end with his antlers. This couldn’t be more perfect and I came to full draw and stood up all in one motion. I anchored and let my arrow fly. It smacked him loudly, a perfect hit right behind the shoulder! The buck didn’t make it 40 yards before expiring and I was feeling like I was on top of the world. After many high fives, some quick pictures and a long drag back to the truck we were headed home with the buttons about to burst on our shirts, feeling like heroes!

Fast forward to Monday November 26th. The whitetail rut was starting to wind down and I still hadn’t connected on a whitetail buck yet. I was actually supposed to be in school this fateful day, as I was in my 4th and final year of working towards my journeyman electrical certificate, but I decided that day would be better spent hunting whitetails with my father.

And I must say, I think that was one of the best decisions I have ever made! The day started out like just another average day, jumping into a cold truck and heading out to a favorite hunting spot. With my dad tagging out two days earlier, I was up to bat and having not tagged out on a whitetail in 5 years I was ready for a change of luck! We started the day by checking a couple fields that the deer had been feeding in, but there didn’t seem to be much activity that morning so we decided to try some rattling. We had some luck and rattled in a couple small bucks but nothing to write home about. After lunch at the local diner I decided to try a secret spot where I had trail camera pictures of a big buck the year prior. With no sign of him this year, I thought it was a long shot but when hunting whitetails you

just never know what can happen. After a short hike through 2 feet of snow we were overlooking an opening surrounded by willows and poplar trees. There was fresh sign everywhere and I had a great feeling about the set up. I started the rattle sequence and it wasn’t one minute into it when I heard my dad whisper “Here comes one and he looks big!” I looked up and was astonished to see a monster buck charging in at us. All I remember seeing were monster split brow tines and I knew instantly that I had to shoot this deer. The buck charged in until he was about 100 yards from us and stopped in his tracks, looking around with steam coming out of his nose ready for a fight! I didn’t waste any time and quickly raised my rifle and shot him in the chest. He didn’t immediately go down so I gave him one more and he was down for the count. It all happened so fast that it took a minute for it to sink in and for me to realize what I had just done. I had just shot the buck of my dreams and ended the five year streak of bad luck, but it was all worth it. It wasn’t until I walked up to the buck that I realized it was the deer I had trail camera pictures of the year before, I couldn’t believe it and I was in awe.

My 2012 hunting season was one that I will never forget and one that I’m sure will take many years to top.

The image of those velvet antlers sticking up out of the buckbrush and those monster split brow tines charging in at me will be burned in my memory for as long as I live. I feel very fortunate to have experienced these two amazing hunts with a great friend, Brock, and the man that I owe it all too for teaching me how to hunt . . . my dad, Tony.

The 2012 season Michael had was no accident. He consistently puts down trophy class animals and does a great job capturing the moment with top notch field photos.

Hunting the Buck Ghost BY: RICHARD OBEREMBT

I

have been hunting my property in Madison County, Iowa, for a number of years and for the last few years there has been one very unusual buck in the area. The problem was that he was a true ghost of a buck, and he lived more in legend than reality. My son and I had a few encounters with him at long range and in situations where we could not get a clear look at him. The farmer down the road had one blurry picture of him from a few years ago. Although I was very interested in this ghost of a buck, I was not confident in my chances of catching up with such a reclusive animal. I have been hunting for 30 years and truly do it for the enjoyment of spending time in the outdoors with friends and family. A set of antlers I get to put on my wall is a bonus that helps me remember the good times spent outdoors.

On opening weekend of 2012, I planned to meet my son for our annual bow hunt on the property. The night before we headed out, we made a plan to meet at our stand in the morning. As we discussed our options, my son suggested we go in to our stands from the north, to change things up a bit from our usual southern entrance. As I hiked into our stands, I was running a bit late, and as a result my son got first pick of which stand to hunt. He headed out to the ‘draw’ stand, while I took the remaining stand. I looked at my watch and saw that it was 7 am, a little late but still early enough that I hoped to catch some bucks moving. I texted my son to tell him I was in position.

The morning sit was uneventful for the first hour, but quickly picked up after that when two scrub bucks came past the stand. One of the bucks was well known to us as Scraggly

and seemed to always be all over the farm. As Scraggly came past the stand, he stopped to work a scrape and tempt me by exposing his vitals. Just as I was considering my options, both the small bucks and I heard a noise on the opposite side of the stand. Both of the bucks immediately snapped to attention and then focused on something which was over my back shoulder. With so many deer around, I had to turn very slowly to try and see what had their attention. I turned slowly in the stand, making sure not to make any noise.

What caught my eye was truly a breathtaking sight. Only 15 yards away was the biggest buck I had ever laid eyes on.

He turned broadside, and I began to count points to try and understand what I was looking at. I got up to 20 and then quit counting, realizing that it did not matter.

I shifted focus from the incredible headgear to the task at hand. I looked away from the antlers and told myself not to look at them again. I picked out the shoulder of the buck and focused. I drew back my bow, instantly relieved that he did not hear the draw and then focused on his shoulder and released an arrow, aiming just behind it. The buck took off, only running 15 yards before stopping for a second to look back, and then he ran off again, over the hill towards a creek that flows through the property. I then had to sit down, my knees were so weak and I was shaking. I tried to get up to look around but there was no way I could do it. I texted my son, chuckling as I typed “Shot a 10 Pointer”. I could tell that he was excited, and I was already looking forward to that moment when he saw the truth, that I had just shot the largest buck that either of us would likely ever see in our

Richard Oberembt of Dallas Center, Iowa, with the archery giant he harvested on October 7, 2012. Richard has hunted the same property for many years and was aware of a unique looking, big buck in the area. Fleeting glimpses and rumours were all he had to go on, and nobody could have imagined what this ghost buck actually looked like. His one of a kind whitetail has a typical 6x6 frame that has a net score of 180” even. That is impressive in itself, but that is just beginning to tell the story on this amazing deer. The many long abnormal points add a total of 44 7/8” to the score. When you add it all up, the Oberembt buck went into the record books with a net score of 224 7/8”!

lifetime!

I sat there for a half hour, trying to regain my composure.

The two smaller bucks were still hanging around but eventually they took off, heading towards my son. My son texted me “Is he down?” to which I answered “Not sure”. Finally, I slowly climbed down from the stand, very slowly so that I didn’t fall.

I made my way to where I thought he was standing when I shot. A good blood trail and brightly stained arrow told me that he was going to be just over the hill. I made my way up the hill, trying to enjoy every second as I followed the trail.

Just as I crested the ridge, I saw a giant main beam sticking up, covered with countless long points. I couldn’t tell exactly how good he was, but I let out a ‘war hoop’ which my son heard.

He thought I must be going crazy! Just then he came over the ridge and said, ‘What’s all the yelling about’ to which I replied with another big yell into the air. My son then noticed the mess of antlers lying in the nearby trees and immediately tackled me to the ground! After celebrating, we began to count points. 24,

27, 28, we kept getting different numbers but we knew that it was a lot!

We celebrated a while longer, continued to count points and just enjoy the time in the woods together with the incredible buck. Finally, we field dressed him, tagged him and headed out to the check in. At the check in, we had a crowd of people gather around, all just as excited about the buck as we were. It was truly a once in a lifetime experience that we will never forget and I feel privileged to share the experience with my son.

It is incredible how these animals can live in an area where you hunt, and where you run trail cameras, and yet you virtually never see them or capture them on cameras. I believe that this buck may have been a traveller who just passed through the property we hunted once in a while. I need to thank the farmers for granting me permission to hunt on their land. I am most thankful that it was a good, clean kill and the animal died quickly from a well-placed arrow. The animals we pursue deserve that.

“Double trouble!”

Hamilton Greenwood Photo

Lane Miller of Fort Saskatchewan, Alberta, with the ‘full curl’ ram he took after a grueling hunt in the mountains of that province. The sheep hunt is a physically and mentally challenging hunt, and Lane’s hunt was no exception. After a 14km hike into base camp, bone chilling temperatures and a blizzard that kept the hunters in camp for half a day, the ram was especially rewarding. As any sheep hunter knows, it is something that gets into your blood and is impossible to shake. It takes an understanding family to support the sheep hunter, and Lane certainly has that, and dedicated this ram to his family.

THE FAMILY RAM BY: LANE MILLER

C

omplete panic set in as I racked another round into my rifle and tried to locate the ram in my scope. My hunting partner Jay exclaimed, “High!” I picked up the fleeing ram heading left and soon paralleling our position on the opposite draw. The snow was falling so heavily it was next to impossible to locate the ram making his escape.

While waiting for the ram to stop, our other hunting partner, Drew was on a full unload mission on his ram. At about the same time when the big full curl ram finally stopped running, Drew shouted, “My ram is down!” I pulled it together like I have never had to before and focused on the second animal. My next two rounds were perfectly placed behind the ram’s shoulder, bringing him down in a heap of black shale and snow.

As any diehard hunter, or the person who is only able to sneak out the odd weekend knows, there is always the nagging, heart wrenching feeling of remorse that we endure. As I grow into a more seasoned hunter, this feeling is one that I have never truly known before. It’s a feeling of selfishness and guilt, but not only for my quarry, but something much more meaningful and sentimental, my family. I’m a father first in my life and I can truly say that is something I treasure more than any hunting adventure I’ve ever encountered or been a part of. Often my hunting adventures take me away from

home for days, or sometimes weeks, at a time to chase some silly animal that lives high up in the steep and often dangerous ground of the mountains. These experiences always give me a brief look at life and death, or how easily that could come with the wrong foot placement, or a set of teeth of that big grizzly. At the age of 26, I’ve hunted more animals than most would get to in a life time, but that has truly come with some huge sacrifices, mostly on the shoulders of my family.

Although they try to understand and have always supported me, I know they would rather have me at home with them safe and sound. So this story, and this ram, I dedicate to them.

This hunt started off like many others, with a very busy work schedule and family schedule to work around. I was in a two month shutdown at work and hadn’t been able to make it out for the sheep opener like I had for the last five years.

Working at the same refinery for the last six years has given me the opportunity to build some great friendships with many like-minded hunters. My friend Jay and I started planning a hunt during our shutdown at work and came up with a plan to hit the hills after we finished up the shutdown at the beginning of October. Another good friend and co-worker also made the decision he would come with us, even though he had spent most of the summer with a torn hamstring and brutal surgery to repair the muscle that had torn from the

brutal surgery to repair the muscle that had torn from the bone!

Day 1: We left early on the 7th and made the long drive from home to our staging area where we threw on our heavy packs and made the 14km hike into our base camp location. This would be home for the next seven days. For anyone who has slept in a tent this time of year in the snow-capped mountains knows, comfort is a very loosely used term. With most nights reaching a bone chilling -15 Celsius, warmth is everything. At the end of day one, we had made camp and home for the next week. A very beautiful spot overlooking the valley floor where we watched a massive six point bull elk chase his cows on the side of a mountain and where a nearby creek would give us the water we needed to keep going.

Day 2: We started off heading for a far off basin, one of the three fingers we planned to search out for rams. After only a few hours into our hike, I started to have a good feeling that something good was going to come our way. Only a short few minutes later, I looked down off the horse trail and noticed a black strap lying in the willows. Pulling on the strap, I was rewarded with a new set of binoculars! Not really the lucky break I was hoping for, but I would take it for now. A short half hour later the snow began to fall. So much for that good luck!

We quickly made a short hike into an old camp and made a fire to wait the storm out. Unfortunately, the light snow turned into four inches of wet, heavy snow and a whole day wasted to bad weather. We were ready for it, and expected it. It is a regular occurrence when it comes to late season hunting for a big ram. The difficult day ended with a lone wolf and a herd of cow elk being all that we would encounter.

Day 3: We hiked to a far off bowl that was known to harbour rams this time of year. A long day without a single ram left us feeling slightly defeated and soaked to the bone from hiking in knee deep snow all day. On our way off the mountain, we managed to spot a herd of about 11 ewes and lambs. It was an encouraging sight, but not what we came for.

Day 4: We were up early, well before the sun once again, and headed to a location that Jay had had success in the past. Jay has been a very successful sheep hunter in the past, with three rams on the wall and an 11.5 year old, 178 inch ram he took a few years prior on a special draw. We made our way up the tight valley, glassing the rock and grass carefully as we went up the creek. My lucky feeling kicked in again and I mentioned to the boys, “I feel lucky about this drainage”. We were maybe three-quarters of the way up the draw when I glassed up a chute and spotted rams! We quickly ducked back into the trees and set up the big Swarovski spotter my good friend Dillon lent me for the trip. It was clear that two of the rams were legal size and we needed to make a play quickly because they were slowly making their way up the mountain to bed for the day.

We hiked into the neighbouring chute and climbed up the side

of the very steep, grassy, shale slope to a location that would hopefully bring us even with the rams. It is a rare occurrence when everything works out as planned, but as we climbed up I just kept telling myself that if the rams are still there, it was meant to be. After all the hard work we had put in, I tried not to think of the possibility of them being gone when we got there.

Soon we got to the stunted spruces that grew in isolation from the rest of the trees, at the top of ridge. As I scanned the area, I was overcome with complete elation with what I spotted. The rams were still there and they had bedded down. A quick range reading told us they were 280 yards away. Knowing the wind was good and the terrain would hide us, we gained another 50 yards of elevation and distance. When we peeked over the ridge second time, they were still there. Drew and I picked out our rams and began to get ready for the most important shot of our lives. The snow that had been gently falling for the last twenty minutes had really picked up. The tempest of all snow squalls began to pour down on us. Looking through the scope it was

BY: JUSTIN CLARK

almost impossible to see the rams let alone make a 200 yard shot. The rams, sensing something wasn’t quite right, began to stand and walk off. “It’s now or never,” I thought to myself. I let fly first, shooting just high. I had rushed the shot. Drew’s ram bolted instantly but stopped only 10 yards away from his bed.

With a few quick well placed shots, Drew’s ram catapulted down the mountain side. During this time my ram was making tracks fast. Luckily, the ram was unsure of where the shots where coming from, and he ran down the chute and closer to us. He came to a stop, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. I wasted little time and my rifle barked. He dropped and rolled at least 30 yards down the black shale hill. He regained his footing on his front end but the cross hairs of the Leupold were already resting on his vitals. With one more bullet from my rifle he never moved again. The celebration began; a five year journey had come to an end! As we made the climb to our rams our suspicions and judging where bang on. We killed two beautiful full curl rams, two true monarchs of the mountain. I took it all in and enjoyed the moment; this truly was the pinnacle of my hunting career. The hardest earned animal in North America.

The effort required to take such an animal made the success that much sweeter.

Huge thanks go out to Jay and Drew for all the great mem-

ories we shared on the mountainside that day. I couldn’t have asked for better company and friends. But most importantly I owe thanks to my family, the wonderful woman that never complains about me leaving and wishes me success. The two children who always want to see dad’s animals when he gets home and the mother and father that taught me to respect the animals, the land and the experience.

The

Future of Hunting

Alex Nagy

Ashley Baragar Noah Tonn Mitchell Martel

Brody Wilson

Carson Kirzinger

Colton Bushell Layne Pederson

Matthew Kwiatkowski

Lucas Gust

Allie MacDonald-Moffat Justin Howat

Hey Kids!

Send us your photos of your favorite outdoor activity and you may be featured in an upcoming issue of Big Game Illustrated!

Email your photos along with name and age to:

info@biggameillustrated.com

Everything Outdoors ...with Heather Wilson

WOMEN WHO HUNT

H

ave we come a long way, or what? Today more wives, daughters, mothers, girlfriends, and women of all backgrounds are taking to the woods, with gun or bow in hand, than ever before. The paradigm shift that has occurred over the past decade in particular is mind blowing.

Cultural acceptance, specialized equipment, and the abundant opportunities women have to participate in our most innate heritage activities are all factors welcoming more and more of us into the wonderful world of hunting. Not long ago social stigma suggested this was male territory. Times have changed and I’m pleased to say that, thanks in large part to the guys welcoming us with open arms, females now represent a sizeable portion of the hunting population in North America.

When Chad and Devin invited me to write this issue’s Everything Outdoors column, I enthusiastically agreed because I have a genuine passion for all things hunting, and I am sincerely excited about the sheer number of women hunters we are seeing today. It’s no secret - women are traditionally characterized as nurturers and homemakers. Men are genetically wired to be hunters and gatherers. These are the gender-specific roles we have been assigned since the beginning of time.

Only in recent years, have our traditional views on women and hunting been challenged.

I believe every society has critical development periods and, as far as hunting is concerned, the last 10 to 15 years has seen the greatest recruitment of women. When I think of the most significant period in history that influenced the role of women in society, the Second World War comes to mind. Out of necessity men went off to fight and many women were asked

to leave their homes and enter the workforce to fill the gaps.

In turn, women demonstrated they were capable of more than just homemaking. Post- war, women were no longer content to stay home and movement began. Society’s view of women evolved and the lines defining gender roles blurred. Hunting is no different. In the last issue of Big Game Illustrated, Kev wrote about the role of your significant hunting other. If it were not for his enthusiasm and encouragement, I certainly would not be where I am today as a hunter.

Many factors have played a role in women joining the ranks, but in my view, the dramatic increase in the popularity of social media is now an enormous contributor. Women see other women participating and the stereotypes fade quickly. Add hunting TV shows with female hosts to the equation, and soon women acknowledge the possibilities. I was very fortunate to have a husband who recognized in me, a love for the outdoors and he helped nurture that into a passion for hunting. For the record, I did not come from a hunting background, but loved backpacking, camping, hiking, and a wide range of other outdoor pursuits. Kev first exposed me to hunting by bringing me along on his various adventures. We would go moose hunting, sit in tree stands for whitetails, go waterfowl hunting, set up bear baits, and more. He then introduced me to target shooting with a rifle and shotgun, as well as with bow and arrow. He instilled in me the importance of safety, the theory and ethics behind doing it the proper way and why. He took the time to teach me about animal behaviour, what to look for, where to set up, how to call, and how to hunt. I am most grateful to him for encouraging me to take ownership of my hunting. His support and careful guidance as my significant hunting other, played a big role in helping me develop my skills to instill confidence and independence. The end result - we have become hunting partners in the truest sense of the word; something that I cherish more than words can describe.

Manufacturers too, have recognized and capitalized on the growing demographic of female hunters. Years ago it was next to impossible to find camo clothing that would fit women. No one carried it because it didn’t exist. Because of this, companies like Prois and SHE Apparel came to be. These two companies are arguably the go-to sources for women’s hunting apparel. Their clothing items are designed by women who hunt

for women who hunt. And, thankfully, in very recent years, women’s camo clothing manufactured by companies like Ravenwear, Cabelas, UnderArmour, and Scentblocker have also claimed their place in the market. For women, this is exciting to see. Likewise, many companies are now making womens’ bows and guns, instead of just youth sizes, recognizing that women have different challenges than men … namely limited upper body strength and smaller frames.

One thing I’ve realized over the years is that there are many ways to skin the proverbial cat. When it comes to hunting equipment, women and men both need to find what is comfortable and works for them. Unfortunately guys will often put a smaller firearm (e.g. .243 or a 25-06) in our hands, thinking we just can’t handle a bigger gun. While these can be ideal calibres for certain species, my own choice would be more gun for most North American big game. Don’t worry you can handle it if you take the necessary steps. If I can offer any advice for the woman hunter, it is to think about the species you want to hunt, and then select the calibre of firearm you want or bow you need to succeed. Kev and I were able to attend the SAAM Shooting School in Texas last year. The instructors were retired Navy Seals. They emphasized that there is no reason women cannot shoot larger calibre guns to allow them to hunt many species that they previously thought they couldn’t. They talked about simple modifications that make a world of difference; things like muzzle brakes, shortening stocks, and recoil pads that allow women to handle larger calibres. Yes, a muzzle brake definitely makes a gun louder but the single biggest advantage is that it dissipates the gases faster to decrease recoil – a distinct bonus for women, or any shooter, with a smaller frame.

My own favourite hunting rifle is a Tikka 7mm Rem Mag. It has a wood laminate stock, which although a bit heavier, also helps with stability and, yes it has a muzzle brake. The brake effectively brings the recoil down to something comparable to that of a 30-06. I can honestly say that when I shoot this rifle, I hardly feel it anymore; it has become second nature, and this is really what every shooter and hunter should strive for. The 7 mm Rem Mag is a calibre that allows me to hunt everything I want and it has never let me down.

Regardless of whether you are a woman or a man, one thing Kev has always taught me is to use quality glass on my rifle.

In turn, I made the decision to finish it with a Swarovski Z5.

It provides absolute clarity and in turn, I have the confidence and peace of mind I need to make each and every shot. Sorry gentlemen, but I have seen too many guys handing over sub-standard equipment to the girls. Women are no different from men in that, good quality equipment will inevitably increase their overall enjoyment and it just might increase their success as a hunter as well.

Bows are similar but more specialized. Even though many companies now make archery equipment for women, remember you are not limited to just those bows. Personal limiting factors include your own personal draw length and the poundage you can comfortably draw. Over the years bows have become lighter and faster, so pulling less draw weight is not as problematic as it once was. Shot placement however will

always be the most important factor when it comes to bow hunting. When I first started out, Kev drilled into me over and over, when shooting always think of where the bullet or arrow will exit. If you do this, you will make well-placed and ethical shots and in turn experience greater success in harvesting game. I shoot a PSE DNA. It has 50 pound limbs turned down to 48 and I love it! When buying a new bow, do your research.

Try it at the shop before making a purchase. Be aware of things that can affect the consistency of your shot, i.e.: weight, brace height, axle-to-axle length of the bow itself, and of course speed. Academics aside, sometimes it just feels right, fits, and you shoot it well. If it does, then that’s probably the bow for you.

I am very excited to see what the future holds for women hunters. Kev and I do most of our hunting together, and we’ve taken it several steps further. Together we own and operate a professional outfitting business in Alberta, we deliver seminars at outdoor expos, and we are actively involved in filming our hunts for a television show. As a woman, I have been able to take my own hunting to a level I never dreamt possible. I am now a professional hunting guide, skilled hunter, and active member in the outdoors industry. I believe women have a lot to offer in the world of hunting, but we would be remiss if we didn’t acknowledge our significant hunting others; guys and sometimes gals, who have made their own personal sacrifices, giving up precious hunting time to encourage and mentor us to bring us to where we are today. On that note, I want to thank my husband Kevin for all the years of encouragement, advice, and yes patience. If I can encourage other women hunters in any way, it would be to take ownership of your hunting. Ask questions, and be an active participant, but most of all be safe and enjoy every minute you get afield. Good luck and good hunting!

BY: BEN FUNK

Ben Funk with the incredible typical mule deer he took on opening day of the 2012 Saskatchewan archery season. Five years ago, Ben decided to get serious about archery hunting and it has been a long and hard journey to get where he is today. The journey was clearly worth it as he has had some incredible success, including his opening day giant. The amazing buck had a staggering gross typical score of 210 2/8”. With a greatest spread of 30 2/8”, and G-2s of 19 6/8” and 18 7/8”, the frame on the buck is truly world class! The buck grew over 8” of abnormal points which give the rack some character and result in a net score of 197 5/8”.

I

have lived in a land my whole life where dreams can become reality....if your most treasured experience is stalking up to a bedded mule deer buck with horns so large you can only describe them as gothic. My eyes have seen things that make my heart race like a drum, my hands and knees shake uncontrollably, and things that I don’t even believe I’m witnessing are actual real life events. I have experienced things very few people on the earth will ever get the chance to do. I am truly blessed.

My journey to notch my tag on a truly world class mule deer has not been easy. I have never had the beginner’s luck syndrome like many stories I hear of. I went to the school of hard knocks and learned some truly heartbreaking lessons the very hard way. I have been brought to tears on one particular occasion while hiking back to my truck. I wanted it so bad.

“Gary, what kind of bow should I buy?” I asked the experienced bow hunter. “Well about time young Benny! A Hoyt of course” he replied. “Ok sounds good!” and with that I figured I would be able to walk out of the archery shop to stardom and

record book fame. I was going to give Cody Robbins a real run for his money. Boy was I wrong. I know right now as I write this article that I am eating crow so to speak when Gary reads this. I should have listened a little closer, took a little more knowledge from the accomplished bow hunter. I was going to touch the arrow off on a booner the week after I walked out of that shop. Five years later, I walked out of that shop with a completely different mindset and attitude towards archery hunting. Still with no fuzzy set of antlers on my wall. I was a failure in my own eyes.

Two weeks before I purchased my very first stick and string, I was determined to get serious and find the big one. I spent money like a career high roller gambling addict on fuel, a real shark I was at the Esso. I bounced my way around the hills and back trails like a gypsy on a camel making the pilgrimage to Egypt. I was going to locate a booner and go out on opening day and wrap my tag around his antlers. “This will be easy,” I thought.

Now, as I stated earlier, I have been fortunate to see some

amazing mule deer bucks and many that will make the alltime record book but the very first deer I would ever go after was also the biggest I have ever witnessed and been blessed to see in real life. I named him “Meat”. After my first encounter I had to tell Gary. Ring, ring, ring ring…… “Gary you won’t believe what I just found!” “What?” he replied. I could hardly talk, my mouth was dry and I felt like I did when I was a young boy when I recieved that Nintendo under the tree with duck hunt! “I just found a 260 incher!” My mentor and one of my very best friends then told me he was going to put his life on hold and make the journey to come visit and try and help me harvest this animal. I never saw Meat again. On that trip a beautiful double inline buck that would easily score over 200” walked past us and I just shrugged it off like he was a fork horn. I was a fool. Not a hunting fool, just a fool. I think I watched one to many Jim Shockey videos and figured the sun will shine on me tomorrow and I will be hauling my world record to Bentley Coben to get him to officially score it. Year one, an epic season and one I will never forget. Two months of absolute perfection. Yet in my own mind I was a failure. I was expecting to be featured at a panel scoring for Boone and Crocket. I was empty handed and heart broken.

Gary told me one time that if I was able to get one shot a year with the bow and arrow at a true 200” that I had a very successful year. At the time he told me this I politely said “Ok” but I figured he had a big city bow hunter hangover and that he was crazy! He was so right. To this day that is the rule I live by. If I work my tail off all summer shooting arrows and scout the country every second I can and get one chance, just to sit on one 200” buck and come to full draw, then my season was successful. It all comes down to that magical moment of truth.

Learning how to handle that moment and deal with the failure is something that is quite hard to explain. It ripped at me all year. I could only see the score sheet and wasn’t appreciating the experience and the true beauty of fall. Looking back now, I realize that I was lucky to be out there and extremely fortunate.

Fast forward to year three. A season that really stands out.

The radio signal totally fades in my truck so I turn it off. I hear a cooler full of ice swishing around and windows down, feel the hot breeze on my face and as I crest the hill on a bumpy old trail to the secret hot spot and see 30 mule deer bucks grazing on summer deer candy. I pop the spotting scope up and my mouth starts to salivate, I think of calling Bentley to line up an appointment and wonder how I will pay for my plane ticket to the Boone and Crocket hall of fame, the only person I can think to call is Gary. I stutter, yell and whisper all in the same sentence. I found the one! I spent well over 50 hours looking for this buck I named the “Mosquito” buck during hunting season.

Like most rare animals, they seem to vanish come hunting season. October 15, 2010 and I found my hall of famer bedded down on the top of a hill trying to avoid the crazy mosquito hatch we were having. I grabbed my bow and hiked out to attempt a stalk. This was it I figured, I can write this old boy’s walking papers, send him picking for cherries, so to speak. I stalked up the hill with the grace of a lion and closed the gap to 60 yards. The old sway back booner rose to his feet and walked straight broadside and stopped to look at me. This was it. The one chance. For those of you that know that feeling I had that day I don’t need to explain but to others who are reading this it is an experience and a feeling like no other. Adrenaline rushes through your body, you shake like a used washing machine, and your brain totally changes. Shooting at the old round bale down in dad’s farm yard seems like a foreign place you’ve never been. I gave my best effort and ranged the deer at 64 yards, drew my bow and took aim. Once at full draw the whole universe seems to stop and nothing matters and you are the only one on it. I shoot and the light has faded to the point where I cannot see where the arrows are hitting. I range again and get the same thing, 63 yards. Mosquito just seems to be frozen in time, a million dollar Mona Lisa of the biggest buck on earth. Second shot same result and finally the third arrow misses its mark. I stand up and watch the largest typical mule deer buck on earth

bounce away. At first I am stunned.

I somehow seem to think the arrows must have gone right through him and I am having a bad dream.

I step off the distance and he was standing there at 43 yards. My rangefinder was hitting the hill he was up against and not getting a reading on his head. The laser must have gone right through his 30 inch spread and not once touched his fur.

I stood there and I was sick, I knew right there how Paul McCallum must have felt, I blew a chip shot, a gimme. I picked my arrows up and they were sticking in the side of the hill within a group of a pie plate.

This is an event I will never forget.

I wanted it so bad, maybe too bad.

I honestly shed a tear and was emotionally a wreck on the walk back to my truck. I couldn’t believe what had happened. I got back in the cab of my truck and I was in a daze, I didn’t appreciate the encounter. I was angry with myself and frustrated. I didn’t think it would ever happen. “Why me,” I thought?

I went through the 2011 season empty handed once again.

A well placed blind and a 220” buck wandering by highlighted the season. Unfortunately, the season ended with my blind and trail cam being stolen and I never laid eyes on the ancient, old 22 pointer again.

2012: After two entire hunting seasons had past, my dreams of seeing the mosquito buck yanking lentils from the earth and

rocking his head back to dust the mosquitos off had faded to the point that I believed he had died in the winter or been taken by a lucky hunter. I was wrong. I was shocked to find the deer on the same quarter section of land where I had seen him three seasons previous. He was sucking back lentil plants and unaware of my presence. I was lucky. I had learned a lot in the past five seasons and I would be fortunate to get within bow range of such an amazing animal. My attitude was different, I felt blessed to be in the presence of such an amazing creature. I was lucky to be where I was. I enjoyed that summer evening like no other and I had no thoughts of any record book or what spot he would be on my wall. My journey to get to this point had been the adventure of a lifetime that very few people get to experience; an epic story that I get to put on paper and tell. Opening day of the Saskatchewan archery season my dreams became my reality.

I was able to put all my failures and lessons learned to use and I was extremely overjoyed. My very first phone call was, ring ring ring ring…….voicemail… … “Gary I got him! Thanks so much for everything.” A special thanks to my buddy Jesse as he was there beside me on that fateful day and I returned the favor five days later as he was able to connect on old friend we also knew very well. The story of “Hooks” will also be featured in an upcoming issue.

BY: KEVIN BELL

I

t was September 22 and I was chasing the northern herds of elk, hoping to track down a big bull. Little did I know I was to begin an adventure that would end with an absolute monster of a whitetail mounted on my wall at home. I was lucky enough to have already harvested my elk and was helping out a good friend, Spencer Black. Spencer is 15 years old and as such, unable to hunt alone. Because the elk season had been open for a few weeks, the big herds were moving back into isolated pockets of heavy cover, away from the heavy hunting pressure. We had spent a lot of time scouting and finally found a rutting herd far back in a secluded area. After a visit with a great landowner, we had permission and the plan was in place.

For our first evening we went back to the same field we had originally found them. They were nowhere to be found. With only 15 minutes of light remaining, we decided to change tactics and head around to the other side of the block of bush.

As we turned the corner, we definitely found the elk! There were about 10 of them standing out in the green alfalfa field.

Unfortunately, there was not a bull to be seen. But something caught my eye along the edge of the field. I could see it was a deer, but I couldn’t tell much more. One look through my binoculars quickly changed that. He was a huge non-typical with a 10” drop tine and all kinds of junk! As big bucks often do, suddenly he was just gone. Spencer and I were in awe and

could not believe what we had just seen. We spent a long time discussing the deer and if he really was as big as he seemed.

Regardless, were going to try our best to get another look at him, while continuing to hunt elk.

We couldn’t believe it when it took less than 24 hours to get another sighting of the monster whitetail! We were in the same field, again chasing elk, but with thoughts of the big deer also in our head. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon when he appeared. There were no elk in the field at that time and we were both amazed he was back. And he was even bigger than we originally thought! We watched him for about 30 minutes.

We got a good look and were able to confirm what we thought we had saw, a big typical frame with a huge droptine and junk everywhere. We didn’t see any elk, but that didn’t matter. We had a new mission.

We headed out to the same field again the next evening. We managed to see a few cow elk, but nothing close enough to close the deal. And again, the monster whitetail made an appearance! He came out at a different spot again, well out of range. But he gave us another good look. The wind changed and we were unable to hunt our secluded bush that held the giant whitetail. For the rest of September, I spent all of my time glassing the giant whitetail. I was determined to pattern him; I would sit a half mile away and just watch. Whenever the wind wasn’t right I stayed out of the area and practised

Kevin Bell poses with the monster buck he took in the 2012 season in northern Saskatchewan. Kevin was helping a young friend of his with his elk hunt when they ran into the big bruiser. It took a lot of work, and many hunts, but a few weeks later, Kevin was able to anchor the incredible deer with his smokepole. The 6x6 typical frame is complimented by five droptines and a total of 24 points!

The mass on the deer is also spectacular, as is so often the case with northern deer. The final tally on his deer result in a net non-typical score of 224 2/8�!

shooting my muzzleloader instead. When October 1st rolled around, I needed to be sure I was ready. He came out everyday I sat but in always in different spots and always out of range!

Attempting to pattern the huge deer was proving to be difficult. I was quickly learning why this deer was such a monster.

I woke up October 1 full of excitement and couldn’t wait to grab my muzzleloader and and settle in along the field edge.

Unfortunately, the wind was blowing the wrong direction for most the day and it took me until the evening to finally get set up in the proper place. I made it out to the field, sprayed down with scent eliminator and waited. I was just hoping all my hard work was going to pay off. I was sitting for about an hour when a nice, young 4-pointer stepped out of the bush and made his way straight to me. He made it to about 5 yards when he stopped. He began stamping his hooves and sniffing the air. I was in full camo and made sure to not make a sound, holding my breath and not even blinking. Finally the deer accepted that I was not a threat and moved on his way. I was so relieved he wasn’t spooked. There were clouds building in the sky, and the skies opened twice, soaking me, but there was no way I was leaving my spot. I wasn’t letting anything get me out of this field. I knew this was my chance at the deer of a lifetime. About a half hour after the rain, out stepped the giant deer! He was about 600 yards away. Of course, he once again came out into the field at a different spot. He was feeding and I thought my hunt for the evening was over. I was beginning to wonder how I was going to exit the field without spooking the buck. At that moment a grain truck drove by in the distance and spooked the big buck. He was on a dead run for the trees and I was desperate to stop him. I quickly grabbed my rattle

bag and began rattling as hard and loud as I could. The monster deer immediately turned and ran at an angle right towards me! I had previously ranged out my distances and knew if he stopped at the edge of the bush he would be 200 yards from me. He began to slow down to a trot and noticed a couple does about 150 yards in front of me. These were the perfect distraction and the big buck was making his way to the does. I knew I was going to get the opportunity of a lifetime, and tried to stay calm. As soon as the monster deer was at 165 yards I put my rangefinder down, took careful aim and fired. I couldn’t see anything due to the smoke, but I was sure I heard a solid thump of a 250 grain TC Shockwave Sabot hitting its mark.

When the smoke cleared, the buck was trotting in a half moon out in the field and suddenly stopped. I thought for a moment I had missed, but then the deer began to wobble and he was down! I reloaded as fast as I could and made sure that the big buck was down for good. I waited for what seemed like an eternity, and then finally made my way over to the downed deer.

He didn’t move from where he went down. As I made my way to him, all I could see was giant antler sticking out of the alfalfa. I couldn’t believe it! His huge typical frame was complimented by 5 droptines, including the massive club droptine that Spencer and I had noticed before. After quickly tagging and loading the deer, I headed into town to show all of my buddies the huge deer. It was an experience I will never forget and the big bruiser will be on my wall for a long time reminding me of those few weeks that started with an elk hunt with a young friend of mine and ended with the biggest buck of my life.

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FULLFILLING A DREAM

BY: KLINT BROWNRIDGE

G

rowing up in eastern Saskatchewan, I've always considered myself a whitetail hunter at heart, yet some of my favourite hunting memories remain the short trips made west with family and friends to chase after muley bucks.

I really enjoy the different landscape and new communities which always brings the opportunity to meet new people. Discovering I had been fortunate enough to draw a tag for 2013 was enough to get me very excited. I really  hoped to

make time to dedicate myself to taking a great buck, something which had eluded me on my past mule deer hunts. A cool, wet summer resulted in a late harvest which meant that I would be stuck working on the farm until late October and would not be able to get out hunting until rifle season in November.

Throughout the fall, I had kept in contact with Steven Little, a friend I had made a few years prior, when he was drawn for elk in my home zone. Steven had offered to point me in the right

The first day of the hunt greeted us with less than ideal conditions. Figuring the rut to be in full swing, we had planned to cover some ground in the truck. Hopefully we could spot a good buck chasing some does or heading toward bedding areas. Gusty winds kept deer movement at a minimum and before long a thick fog had rolled in, making things even more difficult. It wasn’t until early in the afternoon that conditions finally improved.

From a high vantage point we spotted what looked to be a couple pretty good deer that warranted closer inspection. We drove a couple miles around to the far side of the pasture and with the wind in our faces Steven and I hiked in toward where we thought the bucks would be. Jeff headed to a hill to keep an eye on things. We had only made it about 1/3 of a mile into the pasture when we caught movement of the bucks and they were headed right toward us! The biggest buck was high, heavy and dark horned. He truly put my will to the test, but with slightly weak splits I decided to hold out and I let him walk.

When we arrived back at the truck, the sun November 10, 2013 was the day when Klint Brownridge had started to fall and we began to work our fulfilled a dream of filling his tag with a world class mule way back towards town. In the last few minutes of daylight we spotted what looked to deer. He passed many bucks that most seasoned hunters be a real good buck with a doe. He had great would have taken in a second in order to find the giant width and deep back forks his frame was imthat he ended up hanging his tag on. If you like big tyical pressive, yet standing in the scrub locked on us, we couldn't make out his front splits. I mule deer, than you will love Klint’s buck. The buck has the quickly made the decision that I just couldn't long tines and huge frame needed to score high. A greatest pass him and took aim. With the BOOM of spread of 31 7/8”, and long back points of 17 4/8” and 17 my rifle I watched the buck jump from the scrub. He and the doe actually ran toward us 7/8” present a tremendous frame and the fronts of 13 3/8” and I quickly realized I had misjudged the and 12 5/8” all add up to a gross score of 202 7/8”. The distance and shot over the buck. I was also buck grew one long sticker of 3 7/8” on the right antler, able to get a better look at his front splits as he courted the doe along the side of the hill but only had 3 2/8” of side to side deductions so still netted and with darkness falling I decided I would high with a final score of 195 6/8”. not fire again. With sightings of a couple very respectable bucks we were enthusiastic for the next day’s hunt as we headed for town. direction in what used to be his home turf. As I was still strugThe second morning of our hunt brought gling to wrap up harvest in the first few days of November, a much better conditions. Cold and calm, we decided to spend plan was made to head out for the Remembrance long week- the early morning scouting out some good areas. A few decent end. Not only did Steven have time off, but another great bucks were rutting around first thing, but again nothing that friend, Jeff Chapman, also offered to join in on the adventure. convinced me to pull the trigger. In mid-morning we headed I scrambled off the combine Thursday evening, threw my out and began hiking through some intense terrain. Steep hills gear together and soon Jeff and I were on the road. Arriving and deep coulees had the legs and lungs burning by mid-afterlate, we would meet Steven in the morning and go from there. noon. Our efforts had failed to produce any giant mulies. As

we were making our way towards a new area we planned to check out, Steven's trained eye caught glimpse of a deer in a ravine. After a quick look he said, “It looks like a good one!” I got the buck in my scope. Again, he was locked on us head on and it was hard to distinguish the length of all his points. In one motion the deer turned and walked out of sight, but he looked pretty good. We backed up so that we were hidden from the deer, and planned a stalk.

I had brought my HD video camera and told the boys if we could get the kill on film I would take the buck. The wind was in our favour and we made our way over a few hills towards the hidden coulee. Cresting the last hill, immediately deer started bouncing out. I quickly found the buck running straight away from me and with little time, again I decided to hold off. The rest of the evening failed to produce anything and as we reflected on things later that night I really began to question myself passing some very nice bucks.

Day three started off with a text from Steven.

He was unable to commit to a full day of hunting so he was going to check out some of his favorite spots and would call us if he spotted something.

Jeff and I were headed back to the general area we had been seeing the most deer. A weather system had moved in overnight bringing snow and light wind. We headed to an old abandoned yard site on the edge of a coulee filled pasture. We had discovered many good rubs there the first day and I had a good feeling about the area. However, the weather seemed to have the deer hunkered down and as I scanned the pasture, a few does was all I saw. I told Jeff we would take a quick tour of the surrounding area and if nothing turned up we would head back and walk the ravines.

The snowfall had started to get a bit heavier and the deer were holding tight to the bush. A white layer of snow atop the deer’s backs helped us pick out a couple bucks standing it the scrubs, but they were not what we were looking for. As we neared the spot I had fired at the buck the first evening I noticed two deer on the edge of a patch of scrub. I threw the spotting scope up to see it was a pair of does. I suggested we move up a bit further so I would have a better look into the scrub. Perhaps a buck could be bedded in there. As I scoped the bush the does began to get nervous as they were about 400 yards away. One jumped up and quickly three more.

Suddenly a long tined buck jumped from the scrubs and all five deer disappeared over the hilltop. I turned to Jeff and said, "That's the one we've been after!!"

A plan was soon set in motion. Figuring the deer were not very spooked, I would stalk after them and hopefully find them in the nearest cover, while Jeff moved around the deer a few miles. If the deer did not hold up hopefully he would

be able to keep a position on them. As I topped the hill where they had run, the wind was perfectly in my face. I crossed several hundred meters of flat grassland before coming to some steep hills and narrow fingers of ravine. I stayed to the left side, keeping as high as I could, but soon found myself at the end of the draw and no sign of the deer. I was disappointed and

was just about to sit down on the hill to look around when I heard crashing in the willows below me. A buck busted out and I immediately shouldered my rifle. A quick scan of the antlers and I saw the kicker off the right side and knew it was him. Quartering away and on the dead run I let rip at him and at the smack of the bullet I watched his back end go out from

from under him. As he scrambled to get to his feet I took my time and put another round into his vitals and he was down for good.

Only having few quick glimpses of the buck I was excited to get up to him for a closer inspection. As I neared him it was obvious that I wasn’t about to be disappointed! Long, evenly matched deep forks with a sticker out the side, he was gorgeous. I snapped a few quick pictures with my cell phone and then tried calling Jeff to let him know what had transpired..... no service! I made my way in the direction I hoped he would be and eventually got a call through to him. Once in the truck, I called Steven to fill him in and also to see if he would be able to help in the retrieval as I knew it would be no simple task.

Soon the three of us were back admiring the buck.

Luckily I had thrown in about 50 feet of heavy rope.

We harnessed ourselves in like a dog sled team and completed the punishing task of dragging the heavy ol’ buck up the steep hills to the truck. I can't thank these two guys enough for taking the time to join me on this hunt and making it an experience I will never forget. It was a blast and hopefully we will have the privilege of doing it again sometime. I would also like to thank Heath Dreger for officially scoring the buck. The gross typical score of the brute came in at 202 7/8” with a net typical score of 195 6/8”.

Klint with the finished mount of his buck.

Brad Minshull of Prairieland Taxidermy did a great job ensuring Klint could enjoy the buck on his wall for years to come.

It won’t be long and the summer will begin to fade into fall and the velvet antlered bucks will make their appearance before disappearing into their fall habits. Hamilton Greenwood Photos