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ILLUSTRATED BIG GAME Volume 2 Issue 2 Fall Edition 2014
18
In This Issue...
6
Potential World Record for 2014? by Cody Forsberg
12 Thistle Buck by Rick Weste 18 Mr. Brows by Adam Mischuk 22 Grandma’s Buck by Adam Geistlinger 24
24 True Challenge: The Old Whitetail by Jeanette Hall 28 Christmas Came Early by Mark Schaffel 32 Welcome Back by Eric Schmalz
36 Cross Country Success by Nick Pilote 42 Archery Dreams by Drew Baier 62
44 Once in a Blue Moon by Savanna Koebisch 50 Long Road to a Booner by Shawn Muhr 54 Double Shovel by Jason Carstairs 58 Just Do It! by Shayna Hamilton
76
62
Teamwork Triumps by BJ Hunt
68
Browtine Buck by Brandon Carter
as told by: Justin Louma
76 The Pasture Giant by Trevor Soderberg Contact Big Game Illustrated
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Don’t miss the incredible stories and pictures of this buck coming up in a future issue!
FEATURES... 12
Unsung Heroes
Let’s Do Our Part
15
by Cody Forsberg
by Cody Robbins
A dedication to all the landowners who give permission to hunters.
40
When deer populations are struggling, we need to do our part in conservation.
Everything Outdoors by Kevin Wilson
74
The importance of proper equipment, practice and shot placement to eliminate the chance of missing your shot.
80
The Future of Hunting Dedicated to all the young hunters.
An Ode to Dode by Kaare Gunderson
An explanation to the the non-hunter about why hunting is about so much more than the kill.
WORLD RECORD for 2014? BY: CODY FORSBERG On the morning of November 23, 1993, Milo Hanson of Biggar, Saskatchewan shocked the hunting world after downing a monster typical whitetail that would go on to break the world record. The spectacular animal was measured at a staggering 213 5/8 inches making it the largest typical taken since 1914 when James Jordan killed a 206 1/8 incher out of Wisconsin. Twenty years later, he is still the reigning champion, but for how long? It seems like every year, rumors abound about challengers to the Hanson buck, but they inevitably fall short. Is it possible that there is a free-range whitetail in the heart of North America right now that could surpass the Hanson Buck? The answer is yes; in fact there is one colossal buck alive right now that goes by the name of ‘OG’ meaning OHIO GIANT. You may ask how I assume OG is still alive. My answer would be that his sheds were picked up last spring and he has made an appearance on the trail camera this past June! While watching this story unfold and develop throughout the hunting community, it has been interesting to hear critics say it is a ‘make believe’ deer, or that it was raised on a game farm. In fact, the deer named OG from southern Ohio is the real deal and here are the trail camera photos and sheds to prove it. Once the news spread across North America about the sheds being found by a landowner and then sold to an antler collector by the name of Matt Beard, I quickly contacted him and this is what he said:
the brute will be somewhere between 5 1/2 and 6 ½ years old this upcoming hunting season and have already collected a few pictures of him this summer. It appears as though OG will keep his 7x7 mainframe for the third consecutive year. During mid February Jim scooped up the left side, and with persistence he found the mate one week later and only a few hundred yards away from the first one. I can only imagine what it was like to do the ‘red carpet walk’ up to an antler of this caliber; the excitement must have been overwhelming. A mutual friend of ours Randy Johnson was one of the first people to see the sheds and put a tape on them. Randy is also an avid shed hunter and has picked up some giants himself. If it were not for Randy putting me in contact with Jim I would have never been able to add this giant set to my shed collection. I owe him greatly and will be hunting with him more in the future. After talking with Jim several times on the phone regarding the sheds, it was on May 16th that I finally got the call I had been waiting for since the surfacing of the sheds. The words every collector waits to hear; ‘lets do the deal’. I dropped what I was doing for the weekend, hopped in my truck the next morning and drove 725 miles straight to Randy's house where Jim and I met, made the exchange and hopped back in the truck and headed 725 miles back home. 26 hours and no sleep later I had one of the largest whitetails to ever walk the planet in my collection. It was well worth it and a trip I will not soon forget.”
“After many long hours of searching for the sheds off of OG, Jim Lewis from southern Ohio was fortunate to stumble across them. Jim asked us not to release the county that they were found in because there is already too much hunting pressure in the area. Jim and his brother have numerous trail cam photos of OG and are hunting him on family ground. The Lewis brothers have known of OG since 2012 when Jim had his first encounter with him. There is also a single shed from him that year which was picked up by a neighbor on a piece of land close to theirs, it too is a typical 7 point side with only two stickers. They speculate
Now here’s the fun part, checkout these staggering measurements on ‘OG’: Non Typical: Gross 257 7/8” with only 6 7/8” of deductions he nets 251”. Typical: Gross 226 5/8" with only 6 7/8” of deductions he nets a whopping 219 6/8", before deductions for abnormals. Keep in mind this is using a spread credit of 26”, which is
believed to be very accurate according to the trail cam pictures and distance between the pedicles. Each side breaks 100" typical with the left antler totaling 112 1/8", and the right totaling 119 2/8"! Not many whitetails that have ever roamed have had over 31" of abnormal and still net almost 190" typical. This deer makes ‘the book’ both ways with 75" to spare, 19" over typical minimum and 56" over non-typical minimum. One more interesting fact is if you add the 10 typical points together (G-1 through G-5) and then divide that number by 10 he has a 10" average on the 10 typical points! This is a very rare feature and may never have been seen on another whitetail. I would personally like to thank Matt Beard and Jim Lewis for providing some background information on this magnificent creature. OG is a once in a lifetime deer and we are very fortunate to share the story. It is very possible that nature takes its course and he dies of old age or from predation; but it is also possible that a hunter’s dream could become a reality this upcoming season. To be continued…
OG lives! A trail cam picture of th eincredible buck from the summer of 2014. He appears to have lost some of the abnormals and may score even higher!
Few things create more of a stir in the hunting world than rumours of a world record challenger. A few of the trail camera pictures captured of OG shows the magnificent buck carries a frame very is similar to Milo Hanson’s world record in many ways.
THISTLE
BUCK
W
ith each hunting season, I tend to focus my attention on one species. When the 2012 season rolled around, I was focused on getting my first elk with a bow. In 2011, I had spent the majority of my time bowhunting elk, and had numerous close encounters but was not successful in harvesting an elk. I was sure that 2012 was going to be the year that it would come together for elk. Before we get too far into the elk side of the story, I want to say that my favourite animal to bow hunt is Mule Deer in southern Alberta. Alberta in general has a very good population of Mule Deer, and the chance at a true trophy is always possible with every hunt. In 1995, I started bowhunting so I could chase these giants during the archery season with a general tag. Anyway, knowing that elk was my main priority in 2012, I had offered to help my friend Shane Ferguson, a new bowhunter, harvest his first animal with a bow. Both of us are quite busy with our work schedules and were limited to Saturdays for chasing Mule Deer on the Milk River Ridge. There are a few areas that I like to hunt, mainly because the ranchers limit access to foot only and they have large tracts of land that you must walk into. There is one area that is about a 3 mile hike that has held some great deer over the years but can be extremely hard to bow hunt with the fairly flat terrain and lack of trees. The ground definitely has some rolls to it and, when used properly, can help hunters get within a 100 yards of these deer. Over the years I have studied
the area and have been successful at getting close to many deer and fortunate to harvest a few. September 15 was my first trip into the area for 2012. I had Shane with me and I was explaining to him how we could use this terrain to our advantage, but it would require a lot of walk-
Rick Weste of Lethbridge, Alberta, with the big early season mule deer he anchored with his bow in that province. His giant body made his antlers appear smaller, but they were truly impressive when he walked up on the massive buck. The buck has over 44” of mass to compliment the long beams and solid front forks. It all adds up to a gross score of over 195”! ing to avoid being seen, heard or smelled. We had hiked a couple of miles and were sitting glassing the area when we noticed a few does on the horizon. Shane whispered, “I think I see a buck near the does”, so I put up the binoculars for a closer look. Immediately, I see antlers that were definitely
worth getting a closer look at. After a few minutes, the deer moved off and out of sight. I knew the area fairly well and we decided to circle around downwind and see if we could re-locate the deer. We had to circle about a mile around to come into where I though the deer were, in order to avoid
being skylined in the flat countryside. After a 30 minute hike, we were using the natural depressions of the land to make our way to where I expected to find the deer. We quickly relocated the does but the buck was no longer with the herd. I started peeking over the hills and was fortunate to re-locate the buck bedded in a patch of Canada thistle. We had a fairly stiff wind that day and the buck was bedded in an area that looked reasonable to do a stalk. We slowly circled about 200 yards down from the deer, inching closer and using the contour of the land to get within 80 yards of the buck. He was nicely nestled in the Canada thistle, with only his antlers above foliage. I was surprised to see that he was still in full velvet. I thought the deer was about a 160” deer and would be phenomenal first deer for Shane. We now started our belly crawl through the grass up to the edge of the thistle patch. Anybody who has crawled through Canada thistle knows that it can be a very painful experience when doing it on your hands and knees while trying to move slowly and quietly. It was definitely a stalk I would not forget. After 20 minutes we were in a hole that a cow had dug and it was a perfect place to wait the buck out. We were 33 yards from the buck and he was facing straight away from us and the wind was perfect! I had studied the buck, he had great mass but had weak back forks with a couple great stickers. I was sure the buck would gross in the mid 160s. It would be a great first buck for Shane. At 33 yards, the buck would be slam dunk when he stood up, or so I thought. Shane whispered, “I would be more comfortable inside 20 yards”. We slowly moved from our soft and comfortable spot back onto the sharp thistles and eventually closed the distance until we were exactly 20 yards from the still
oblivious buck. We set up and got ready, but were in an elevated position and would be very open when the buck decides to get up from his bed. The buck was nestled in a low spot and was very well protected from any shot while he was bedded. After a long wait, the buck began to rise and he immediately busted Shane and bolted off into the distance. No matter how you slice it, it was an extremely fun day with a close encounter on a mature Alberta mule deer. It was getting warm and we would be back again the next weekend. Over the next two weeks, we looked for the deer again without any luck. While searching for Shane’s buck, we stalked a few other bucks, but were not able to let an arrow fly due to a number of factors including mule deer does coming out of nowhere and busting us mid-stalk. One of the great things about hunting mule deer with a bow is that there is always action and a giant could show up anytime. After a few weeks we found the buck again and he was again bedded in a patch of this thistle. There was enough wind to do the stalk and we were able to get within 22 yards this time. A swirl of wind brushed our backs and the buck busted out and stood at 55 yards. At that point, I got a good look at that buck as he stood there. He was definitely a buck worth chasing. After two stalks in the thistle, we had decided that the deer would now be called the “Thistle” buck and we would focus on him for the rest of the season. The next weekend, the mule deer got a break and I chased elk in the foothills with Brent Sinclair. Another friend of mine, Steve Pearson and his son, had gone hunting in the area and texted me to say that a 200” buck was in the area and that I should try to find him. Steve had harvested a 211” buck from
the area in 2004 so I knew he was a good judge when it came to big mule deer. I laughed with Brent and told him I would be back next week to chase elk but I was going to kill a 200” mule deer with my bow first. My plans to focus on elk hunting were quickly being ruined by mule deer. It was an uneventful weekend. The following weekend Shane and I set out in one area and Steve and his son went to another. Shane and I hiked back to where we had been seeing the “Thistle” buck but did not see any deer in the area. There was another area about a mile away that I had often seen deer and we were looking for the “Thistle” buck or the new 200”er. We had started hiking when we noticed a few does with what looked like a wide heavy 4x4 with a few stickers. We followed the deer for the next 30 minutes over the next mile and finally lost sight of the herd. We started trying to re-locate the deer and saw the does about a half mile away. There was a small buck with them but the big one had peeled off. We that had looked like extra stickers. I apologized for shooting starting looking for the buck and saw him staring at us about Shane’s buck, but we were both ecstatic that we were able to get 800 yards away. We quickly got out of his field of view and the buck that we were chasing. The body on the deer was huge watched him bed on a small shelf on one of the rolling hills. and I had very much under judged the size of this buck. His It looked like an impossible stalk but I figured we should give mass is phenomenal at over 44” in circumferences, long main it a try, since he looked like a great buck! We circled about a beams and solid front forks. His G2’s are average with short mile or so around to keep out of his field of view and to get G3’s. Overall the buck grossed 195”. I am extremely happy to downwind of the buck. Once we got near where we thought harvest this buck and he ended up being my highest grossing the buck was bedded we quietly snuck up the small rise of land buck to date. I want to thank Shane for coming with me and I to re-locate the deer. Unfortunately, the deer was nowhere to still look forward to being there when he harvests his first deer be found. I started looking for signs of the deer and realized with his bow. Now back to chasing elk, hopefully create a few we were not on the right hill; it was about 100 yards to the more memories!! north. Again we snuck up to the hill and this time saw a small buck bedded with his head right on the ground, A look at the solid mass and beam length of Rick’s buck. and sleeping hard. “Excellent, this would be a great opRick enjoys persuing a variety of species, including elk portunity for Shane”, I thought. We looked for the big (opposite). buck but it appeared that he had moved and this small buck was left. I told Shane where he should sneak up to and wait for the deer to stand up. This is where it gets interesting. Right after sending Shane to work in on this deer, I turned to the side and saw that the big buck that we had been following stood up and was staring at me! I could see it was a great buck. Shane was caught out of position and the buck was 44 yards from me so I made the decision. I drew my Ross Crave DRT back, held on his chest and the Rage tipped Darkhorse 340 Studs found the mark! I heard the heavy smack of the arrow and watched the two bucks quickly run out of sight. Shane watched the two deer run over the hill and looked at me with surprise. I quickly told him that the other buck had just appeared and that he gave me a shot. We watched the smaller buck crest the horizon as he made his escape. He was alone and I knew that the big guy was on the ground! We walked to the edge of the hill and the big buck was laying there. He had only run about 50 yards before expiring. We quickly went down to see what I had harvested and were surprised to see that it was the “Thistle” buck. He had finally stripped most of his velvet, but had pieces hanging off his rack
Unsung Heroes by Cody Forsberg
T
hey are passionate about what they do and are always there to lend a helping hand. They are family oriented providers whose work ethic is commendable. They are believers that hard work and honest sweat are the building blocks of a person’s character. They know that the best things in life are free; simple pleasures like observing the splendor of a prairie sunrise, listening to the whistle of a meadowlark, and the countless sporting opportunities we as hunters so eagerly anticipate with the coming of every season. They are ones who give back to the wildlife more than they take. The people I am talking about are FARMERS. With the arrival of each spring, as the snow melts, and runoff occurs, our landscape reveals new signs of life. Trees begin to bud and leaves burst forth. This is a critical time for many species that inhabit the land and play a significant role on survival. Migratory birds arrive in order to compete over nesting grounds and mammals are giving birth to their young to begin another growing season. Nature is at its busiest, and so are the farmers. As a young lad growing up on a small farm in south-central Saskatchewan, I was taught to appreciate the importance of spring. It was the time for seeding, calving, and many other tasks as we eagerly prepared for another summer. It was an exciting time of year following my father throughout his daily routine. The pace was fast and furious until cow and calf pairs hit the pasture and the seed was in the ground.
Throughout spring, and into summer, daytime temperatures progressively rise, and so does the vegetation. In farm country, as far as the eye can see, lush cereal crops evolve into highly nutritious food sources for all kinds of wildlife such as waterfowl, ungulates, and other native species. Whitetail and mule deer regain their strength and body weight in preparation for fall, the impending breeding season, and a soon-tofollow winter. They gorge themselves on protein-rich pea, lentil, and canola crops, and routinely visit hay lands offering lush rye grass and alfalfa. These abundant food sources provide the ideal ingredient for optimal summer antler growth. By August deer, elk, and moose are growing the final inches of their velvet-covered racks. Watching a bachelor group of bucks graze through a flowered-out canola field is a sight to behold. Add a crimson sunrise as a backdrop and it takes your breath away. Nothing buckles my knees faster than anticipating a fast approaching hunting season, and more specifically the new selection of animals to pursue. For the farmer, fall presents a different scenario. The pressure is on as a busy harvest gets underway. While I feverishly check trail cameras and routinely visit my favorite vantage points, life for our unsung heroes is different. They are racing a clock, logging hours on the tractor, repairing hydraulic hoses, greasing bearings and doing oil changes. By the time September rolls around, the fields that were once a sea of green are now pale and ripe for harvest. Honks and cackles of migrating birds again fill the skies as they travel south. As the leaves begin to fall, colder weather is imminent. Outdoor enthusiasts across the country are winterizing campers, stowing away fishing rods, and brushing the dust off of their hunting gear. Farmers on the other hand, are putting away the swathers and firing up the combines in anticipation of another successful harvest. Ranchers are busy rounding up their herds from grazing pastures and managing their feed inventory to sustain their animals during the cold winter months on the farm. Without question, fall is my favorite time of the year, and unfortunately my first semester grades often reflected this. When I
first began hunting, I would use every excuse in the book to avoid my early classes, much preferring to join my father and his friends on their excursions. Although I don’t think I was fooling anyone when I would show up to my ten o’clock English class still wearing camouflage and wiping the remains of army paint from my cheeks. Thinking back, I wouldn’t change a thing. I wouldn’t trade those irreplaceable memories dad and I shared for anything. Those very experiences have been etched in my mind forever. Indeed, without one key ingredient, those special times would not have even been possible. I’m talking about permission granted to us by farmers who allowed us to access their land. It is their hospitality that facilitated the moments that, in turn, have made me who I am today. In my eyes farmers and private landowners are some of the best conservationists around when it comes to our wildlife. As a hunting community we should recognize that they keep our sport alive and make it what it is today. Year in and year out, they support deer populations by providing nutritional food sources and monitoring their lands to prevent overharvest. At the same time, so many of them grant us access to the very playgrounds in which we pursue our next trophy. Often all it
takes is a quick phone call, a courteous approach, and a commitment to use respect as we hunt on their land. In doing so, it is critical that we establish positive relationships with these landowners, not only in the short-term, but also for the longevity of the pastime we all hold so dear. Too often we hear stories of trespassers cutting fences and chewing up muddy fields. I will never understand why anyone, and specifically those who call themselves hunters, would deface the property that these people have poured their heart and soul into. To be clear, it is these individuals who give every outdoorsman a bad name. In the end we must remember, it’s not a right, but a privilege to access private lands. As you gather your gear and plan your next hunt, please take a minute and consider the land you’re hunting and who owns it. Rest assured you will save yourself a lot of grief by acquiring permission to hunt and establishing a rapport with the landowner; a relationship that will hopefully last for years down the road. The next time you tag an animal, or even if you don’t, take a few minutes to thank the farmers who made it all possible, because they truly are our UNSUNG HEROES.
TIPS FOR A RESPECTFUL RELATIONSHIP WITH LANDOWNERS • • • • •
Plan your hunt early. If possible, contact them to secure permission before the season. Be respectful and recognize that it is a privilege to access private land. Ask about access points and if they have any specific rules that you need to adhere to. Get a landowner map and bring it with you. This demonstrates that you have done your homework. If they appear busy, ask if there is a better time for you to call or return to speak with them.
Eric Skaalid and his two boys, Carson and Bronson relax after a long spring of planting. Landowners are one of the keys to a successful hunt.
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BY: CODY ROBBINS
E
very year when the big game draws come out, here in Saskatchewan, I find myself sitting in my underwear at the kitchen table punching in my health card number on the government website. My right foot is arched and vibrating my whole leg up and down like a paint shaker, I'm chanting "COME ON ELK, COME ON ELK!!!" As if my cheering gives me better odds of pulling a tag. You probably wonder why on earth I would be in my underwear doing such a thing. One could easily jump to the conclusion that I'm a superstitious feller that feels luckier when I'm in my gotch! The fact of the matter is, it's always early in the morning or late at night when a friend texts and says "THE DRAWS ARE OUT!!!" So, I franticly run to the computer, out of bed, and it just so happens that I'm mostly naked. This is getting a little off topic, but since we touched base on hoping to get lucky in our underwear… Maybe that’s my problem! Come to think of it, the last few years in particular I don't recall ever getting lucky, when a situation starts off with me in my briefs. What on earth could it be about my nakedness that crushes all hope? A week ago the girls and I were at the lake with Kelsy's family…On my way to the beach; I dashed around the back of the cabin, out of sight from the crowd, and cranked out twenty push-ups. I jumped to my feet, and looked down at my pectoral region… I flexed the left one, then the right. They were swelled up and looking fantastic! This was it; this would be the day that my HOT MOMMA of a mother-in-law would notice my awesomeness. Down at the beach an hour later, I dashed past her and leaped two feet in the air to snag a football, one handed. As I walked back, I was looking away but my ears were locked on her, just waiting for a well-deserved compliment… Under her breath she smirked to my sister-in-law "LOOKS LIKE HE'S RIDING A CHICKEN!" Maybe there is something to this whole outfit that I wear to the ceremonial draw checking each year, maybe it's just a negative aura. My legs are a bit skinny, and the patch of hair that has migrated from my head, down to four inches left of centre, on my back is a bit of a show stopper. However, one would think after fifteen years in SUPER "A" pool, it wouldn't matter what a person wears and I would finally get my first elk draw ever! No dice in 2014, making it 16 years super A. My initial reaction every year is "THE GOVERNMENT SUCKS!" I had the same reaction when I heard the new whitetail season dates for Saskatchewan this coming fall. Instead of thirteen weeks to hunt, we now have six. In reality it's not the government’s fault that I haven't been
drawn for sixteen years, it’s just bad luck. And when it comes to the whitetail season dates, they have recognized that our deer population needs help, and this is the avenue they have chosen to help rejuvenate our herds. No matter what decision they make, it's impossible to please everyone. Throughout western Canada and parts of the U.S, it's pretty consistent across the board, when you’re talking deer numbers. Whether blue tongue has affected your hunting grounds, or the winters in the Canadian north, the deer population is low. In my opinion, being mad at the government for decisions they make is not the solution. In my opinion, it’s not the government that is going to help or jeopardize our deer; it’s the sportsman and sportswomen that need to make the difference. If you have recognized that deer numbers are down in your area, acknowledge the fact, and do what YOU can to make a difference. If you have a goal to focus on a mature buck, stick to it. Don't waver near the end of the season, and shoot one smaller or younger. Harvesting a mature buck doesn't harm the population in any way, and letting a younger deer survive is very important right now, when the numbers are so fragile. In areas where the deer are struggling, don't shoot a deer just for meat. If your excuse is you like deer meat more than beef, consider this decision an investment into the future of a healthy deer herd, to ensure you have deer meat down the road. Lots of folks will say they can't afford to buy meat at the supermarket, and that is understandable, but be honest with yourself… If you are driving a jacked up truck with fancy tires and a gun that you paid $2,000.00 for, don't say you can't afford to buy meat at the supermarket. For every one doe that is spared and doesn't end up in a freezer, that could possibly be three deer in the field a year later, and five two years later, and even ten three years later if you calculate in any female fawns she might have. The government shortening our season will change nothing involving health and population of our deer. Sportsmen and sportswomen, being more conscious of the problem, and in turn being more selective, WILL. As a whole, let’s go out this fall and enjoy all of the great things that come with hunting; the fresh air, the camaraderie and the feeling that you get in wide open spaces. Let these be fundaments for success instead of a notched tag. For anyone that is dabbing some pepper on tag soup in December, be proud that you did your part in repairing a deer herd that needs our help.
mr.
Adam Mischuk with the big typical whitetail he took on the west side of Saskatchewan after chasing him for two years. The big deer ended up with a gross typical score of 188 6/8�!
ows BY: ADAM MISCHUK
T
he story of “Mr. Brows” started while checking trail cameras in late October of 2011. I had a few cameras out since the middle of August but still had not seen anything exciting other than a few up and comers. That all changed one day when I was checking camera cards. As I flipped through the pictures, I saw a large buck with very tall brow tines. “Mr. Brows” was unmistakable, and was a true giant of a whitetail buck. I had never seen this deer in the area before so I was not sure how old he was but I decided to pursue him anyways. He was a 5x4 in 2011 but still a very impressive deer! All throughout bow season he had never showed up on the cameras in daylight and then on November 7th he disappeared from the cameras altogether. I expanded my search of the area but never saw him again. I knew a deer of his size would generate a lot of excitement so I was glad when the season ended and I hadn’t heard of him being shot by anyone. After he disappeared, I ended up not shooting anything in the 2011 season. Really I was pretty discouraged that I had not had a chance at him, and even more discouraged that he had disappeared altogether. Then, in January, when I went and retrieved my cameras for the year I was given an excellent surprise! “Well Dad, Mr. Brows made it!” I exclaimed to my father as I was flipping through pictures. December 12th he had shown up on one of my cameras, and only showed up for one picture, as if just to let me know he was still around. After a long off season, I found out that I was drawn for mule deer made the decision that I would take my holidays off so I could hunt the whole whitetail and mule deer season. While I waited, I decided to try something I had not yet done.
Bow hunt for moose. I was working a night shift right at the end of September so the days off directly following my shift would give me an excellent opportunity to go out moose hunting during the rut. Before my last night I loaded my quad and all my gear so I would be able to head out hunting immediately following my 6:30 to 6:30 shift. With this in mind you can imagine the surprise in my father’s voice when I called him shortly after eight, voice shaking and full of excitement telling him that I had just stuck a moose and heard him go down fifty yards away. Although he was not a trophy by any scoring system, this was my first kill with a bow and I will never forget the rush of having a thousand pound animal grunting, swaying, and strutting to within six yards of me! Deer season was finally approaching and once again Mr. Brows appeared on one of my cameras. I was overjoyed when he appeared, and when I saw the first picture it became immediately evident that it was good that he had survived another season! He was bigger in every way this year and his missing G4 from the year before had now exploded into an 8 inch tine. The hunt was on! I sat multiple stands in the area during bow season but never did see him. Once again he seemed to be nocturnal. November 1st rolled around and I decided to switch gears and focus on mule deer hunting since it was only a two week season. I hunted a small area day in and day out for the first week with no success and no sightings of any big bucks. I was seeing big numbers and multiple smaller bucks but could not seem to find the mature bucks. During this period I continued to keep my trail cameras rolling for whitetails and regularly
checked my cameras. To my surprise, and disappointment I finally got my first daytime pictures of Mr. Brows. “If only I had not been hunting mule deer I may have been there”, I thought to myself, frustrated. The season, however, was quickly coming to a close on mule deer and I was determined to fill my tag with a mature buck. The morning of November 11th, the unthinkable happened. I slept in! As my eyes fluttered open and I looked out the window I felt a wave of panic and stress came over me! “How did this happen?” I just wasted a calm, cold, perfect conditions morning hunt! As I put my hunting gear on in record time I glanced at the clock. “8:30, I can still salvage a morning hunt”, I convinced myself as I got ready. As I walked out to the kitchen my dad and a neighbor were drinking a coffee and chuckling at my state as I rushed around the house. “Slept in, eh?” my dad jokingly asked. “Come get my deer in half an hour”, I sarcastically remarked as I walked out the door. All season long I had been carrying my camera and tripod with me as I hunted. I clearly remember thinking to myself that morning as I got out of the truck, “you are late already, and it is too much of a hassle to carry.” Looking back, I kick myself for that decision. As I snuck to my vantage point and settled in, I was amazed to see the activity before my eyes. It was like a switch for the rut had been turned on and the mature bucks had finally emerged from their dormant state. As I watched over the creek I was hunting I could distinctly see four different groups of does milling around. One group had a 130 class buck chasing does and another group had a 170 class nice typical following them around. After a few minutes of watching this and trying to decide if the nice typical was a shooter or not, I spotted another small herd of does coming out to the creek bed to feed. It was behind these does that I saw Big Nasty appear. Even though it was nearly half a mile away the sight of him emerging from the shrubs will forever be engrained in my mind and it has played over and over in my head hundreds of times since that day. My heart started racing as the does came towards me and I could see big drop tines and stickers protruding from his dark chocolate antlers. I couldn’t believe what was playing out before me as the does walked toward me with him strutting behind. At 450 yards out, two groups of does converged the two mature bucks came face to face. They squared off as if a
fight was about to happen but the smaller buck very quickly realized he was outclassed and retreated. Shortly after this, Big Nasty rounded up his does and herded them back towards the area they had come from. I was very tempted to take a shot at this distance but was personally not comfortable I could make a clean shot so I let him walk and quickly devised a game plan in my head. I called my father from my cell phone, “big double drop tine buck! Get your stuff and come out here now!” I then gave him directions where he could post. If he did come out of the creek I was confident I knew where he wanted to go. After what seemed like an eternity I watched my dad get to his spot. Once he was in position I doubled back and made what I thought was a very slow and stealthy stalk to within two hundred yards of where I had last seen the deer. Apparently I am a lot less ninja-like than I would like to think! As I peeked my head up out of the creek run I was met by the stare of seven
Adam also took this gnarly mule deer in 2012. With over 34” of abnormal points, the gross score on him was 211 2/8”.
mule deer does looking directly at me. I ducked back down and prepared myself to stand and locate Big Nasty. As I slowly stood up, I caught a glimpse of antlers bouncing through the shrubs. “Busted!” I thought to myself. At this point, I took off running to head him off for a shot. As I came out of the creek and he crested the hillside, we both stopped, 200 yards apart. Panting for air I raised my rifle; I concentrated on holding steady and squeezed off a shot. I was overjoyed as I heard the thud of the bullet hitting and saw him flinch. He immediately went over the hill towards my dad and out of my sight. I waited to hear the sound of more shots, and waited. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that at this point I was starting to get a little bit panicked. “Dad should be shooting or I should see this buck running in the distance” I fretted. As I got to the spot where I had shot him, there was not a single drop of blood in the snow or any indication at all of a hit. As I scanned the distance and didn’t see him, I began to doubt myself. Then as I followed his tracks I saw him piled up in the snow forty yards away! I was taken back as I approached this magnificent animal! This was one of the very few deer I have shot where ground shrinkage was not an issue. His drop tines and stickers actually seemed to grow as I got up to him. Now that I had taken my mule deer, it was time turn my full attention to whitetail hunting. It had now been four days since I had seen Mr. Brows on any of my cameras. I expanded my hunting area in hopes of finding him but was unsuccessful in finding his location for over a week. Since he was not showing up on the cameras, I had resorted to sitting on the edge of a couple different pea fields in the area that had heavy deer activity. After spending many mornings and evenings sitting at fields followed by walking and rattling all over the area, I was starting to feel like I may not see him until after the season again. One evening ,while my dad and I were walking into a pea field where I had been seeing a few mature bucks and lots of does, we spooked up a buck out of a small bush. As he came running out of the trees and into the open I could see the sheer size and instantly noticed the large, uneven brow tines. This was him! I couldn’t believe it, after all the planning and hard work, I finally caught a break and there he was! Without hesitation I raised my gun, steadied myself and shot at the quartering away
buck. We were both confident that we heard a hit, but the buck did not slow down or show any indication of being hit as he disappeared into the coulee. It all happened so fast that I did not have time to get buck fever until after he was gone. He looked good on trail cam pictures but he looked absolutely gigantic in the flesh. We headed to where I had shot and we found blood right away. We were both ecstatic, but knew that it was going to be tough tracking due to the sheer volume of deer tracks in the area and ruggedness of the terrain. As darkness fell, we decided to continue our search for him. After a tense and tedious pursuit through thick brush, twisted trails, and extremely big hills we finally found the downed monarch. He still looked just as big as before! As we sat there admiring him I kind of chuckled and said “I think that I just hit the peak of my hunting career! I don’t know if I will ever be able to top this season!”
BUCK
s’
BY: BRETT GEISTLINGER
Brett Geistlinger with one of the top whitetails taken in eastern Saskatchewan in 2013. The young hunter was going to school away from home so he had to depend on his Grandma to keep track of the monster buck for him so he could hunt him when he came home. She must have done a good job, and Brett ended up taking a true giant. The left antler is very rare with three long droptines, including a big, split club droptine with velvet still hanging off the tips. The final score on Brett’s deer was 184 4/8” gross and 180 3/8” net non-typical.
I
t was the evening of November 22nd, 2013. I had spent hours and hours planning every detail, and finally all of my plans came together. I harvested a true deer of a lifetime, a massive, triple droptine, 180 3/8” mature, non-typical Saskatchewan whitetail giant that I knew well and targeted throughout the season. The deer, which I eventually named Dave, had proven to be a crafty old buck that had sharpened his survival skills and was not going to be east to harvest. The hunt
and would tease me by arriving shortly after I had left the stand, almost every night! I hoped that it was only time until this old buck was going to make the wrong move, and I was going to make sure I was in the field as much as possible to increase my chances. Archery season came and went without as much as a sighting of the big deer. October brought with it colder temperatures, and the muzzleloader season. I decided to get my hands on a weapon with a little more range. Muzzloader
began when my grandma Jeannette Jaques, told me that she had been seeing a “wild looking deer” consistently in daylight hours. I went to work as soon as possible, setting up my trail cameras, and scouting the area in hopes of getting a glimpse of this so called monster. It didn’t take long and I started to get some great pictures of the deer and boy was she ever right! In the months leading up to my successful hunt, I had only managed to get a couple pictures of the knarly, triple drop tine buck. There were many times when I had to be away to attend school, but when I wasn't around my grandma would get out in the field and scout for me, she loves to get out and enjoy the wildlife. I decided to hunt this deer with my bow for a week straight, commuting back and forth from Yorkton, Saskatchewan, where I attend college as a Power Engineer. It made for very long days, but I knew a deer of this quality was rare and it was worth it. This smart old bruiser eluded me for the week
season began and I was excited with the fact that my chances had greatly increased when my uncle, Rodney Geistlinger was happy to lend me his gun. I sat another full week, muzzleloader in hand, but again had no encounters. I was beginning to realize how the buck had survived so many hunting seasons; he was proving to be incredibly smart and good at avoiding me completely.
With rifle season approaching fast and pressure on the deer starting to increase I was starting to wonder if I was ever going to get a chance at this buck. After putting in so much time and effort, I had high hopes and really hoped that all my hard work would eventually pay off. The anxiety was killing me but I stayed determined and focused with the help of my family and friends who kept encouraging me and telling me hard work always pays off. I bought in, and continued working hard and putting every spare second into hunting the elusive buck. Finally, luck went my way. I settled in, like so many times before, muzzleloader in hand. I was in place early, could feel a light, but steady breeze on my face, coming from the perfect direction. The weather was cool and crisp, and it seemed like the perfect situation. Trail camera pictures showed me that the bucks were starting to get ready for the upcoming rut, and I thought if it was ever going to happen, today was the perfect time. I scanned the area, and then there he was! I could not believe my eyes; the big bruiser had finally slipped up and stepped out of the timber. The best part was that he was only 100 yards away. This was the first time I had seen this deer up close and personal. I admit that I was in complete shock, and could not believe what I was looking at. I shook it off and focused, I knew I had to hold back my excitement till the shot was over. I went into auto pilot, like so many times before, calmly put the sights behind his shoulder and squeezed off a shot. The excitement instantly overtook me, it was the best feeling in the world, one that cannot be explained, and is only known by other whitetail hunters who have worked so hard for a specific buck. I quickly re-loaded my muzzloader and called my brother Steven Geistlinger. He quickly arrived, but we decided to wait for a bit. After about
an hour, we slowly headed out to where I thought that he had been standing when I let the shot go. We were ecstatic to find him only 75 yards into the bush! With every step he got bigger and bigger, the mass and character truly made him into the buck of a lifetime, and a fall season that I will never forget. This was it; my dream had finally come true. In eight long hunting seasons, I had always hoped for a buck like this, and it was finally a reality. I knew the deer was big but when a tape was actually put on him the next evening by Blair Mitchell of Preeceville, I was quite surprised with the results of 184 4/8 gross non-typical and 180 3/8 net non-typical! All my friends and family were very happy for me. Al Bohn of Country Taxidermy is going to preserve the buck and every time I look at him up on my wall, I will remember the adventure and hard work it took to finally get a shot at such an incredible animal.
True Challenge
BY: JEANETTE HALL
The Old Whitetail
I
had unnocked the arrow and was preparing to leave the blind. There was still ten minutes of legal light left, however, I did not believe any deer were moving. I turned to Travis and whispered if he was ready to call it a night. His eyes were bugged out and he motioned to my left with the urgency of someone who saw a ghost! We moved to Gainford, Alberta, on August 31, 2013. I didn’t care about unpacking. I wanted to set up trail cameras then look for places to set up blinds and stands. We took a walk around our new property and I found a beaten trail that looked promising. The next day I set up a camera there. After two days I went and checked to see what was frequenting the trail. My heart stopped when I first saw him. I couldn’t contain my excitement. My camera revealed a mature 6X6 whitetail fresh out of velvet. I could not stop scrolling through the pictures of him as he walked down the trail. I kept looking at his drop tine. I have been bowhunting since fall of 2006. My goal was to tag a mature buck that would break 150”. This buck would take me there. While score is not everything, taking a mature whitetail with my bow was. I gathered my wits and promptly headed out to set up a ground blind near the trail. I hoped by putting up a blind he would not be spooked away. I had to take that chance. Two days after setting up the blind I anxiously checked the camera. He was still passing through! While we set up several blinds and stands; I was banking on the blind he walked past daily. Opening day of archery came and went yet my buck was now passing by only in the late evenings and early mornings. I began hunting him every morning and spending my evenings tucked into my blind with bow in hand hoping he would make an appearance. On September 17, 2013, Travis wanted to sit at one of the other blinds. I begrudgingly agreed. Knowing my luck, I thought that would be the day my buck would stroll by. We watched a few does filter by, but no bucks. It was a nice change of scenery but I longed to get back into my blind. September 18,
Jeannette Hall with the culmination of her archery whitetail career, a truly mature whitetail buck from the woods of northern Alberta, one of the smartest and most difficult animals to tag with archery gear. She set her goals high when she started bowhunting in 2006, with a minimum 150 class, truly mature whitetail. The 2013 season was when she was able to complete her goal with an old, 12 point buck with loads of character.
2013, and I decided to skip my morning hunt. I was beginning to lose hope of ever seeing my buck during legal shooting hours. I patiently waited for Travis to get home. We headed to the blind with high anticipation that my buck would walk by and offer me the perfect shot. However, if he didn’t show I was happy to take a doe since meat in the freezer was pretty low. We settled in and stared at the willows across from us. I had memorized every branch and tuft of grass. Just 26 yards in front of us was the main trail, which was well used. There was a fresh rub on the trail to the west of us and a second trail broke off from the main one and arced off to the south east. That trail was only 11 yards, but was hardly used. After several hours of sitting staring at the same clump of swamp grass I began to fidget. I was bored, chilled and I had just plain lost hope that any animal would walk by. Travis kept looking over as I squirmed in my chair. I checked my phone to see what time it was. 15 minutes left of legal light was left. I sighed and tried to sit still despite the urge to get up and try it again another day. Five minutes passed. It seemed more like an hour. Finally, I could stand it no more. I unclipped my release from my string loop and began to unnock my arrow. I turned to Travis and whispered, “Well, shall we call it a night?” The look on Travis’ face bordered on horror. He was looking off to my left at something I could not see due to the window on that side being covered. His eyes were bulging out of his head. Travis turned to me and mouthed “deer” all the while maintaining the look of horror-urgency. I wasn’t sure what exactly he saw, but it didn’t sound like a doe. I quietly nocked my arrow and clipped my release to my loop. I still couldn’t see anything but Travis’ breathing told me something was close. I prepared to draw. What happened next unfolded so quickly that I did not have time to think, only to react. I saw his head first followed by his thick main beams pricked with multiple tines. He must have heard me draw as he stopped and looked directly into the
blind. I could see not only his entire body as broadside as it could get but his drop tine as well. To my complete surprise he was not on the main trail, he was standing only 11 yards away. He was so close he seemed to take up the entire window of the blind. As he looked into the blind my top pin found his vitals. I released the arrow. This all took place under two seconds! The hit was loud and resonated inside the blind. He took off and I turned to Travis with a look of disbelief as to what had just happened while my buck ran. I could hear a crash and I exclaimed “He’s down!” We sat for a few seconds as I tried to take in what had just transpired. I could not see him while he was coming in, so I did not have time to get worked up. That was a big advantage. However, now my legs were shaking and I could not wait to start tracking him. We decided to go back to the house and wait the customary half hour before taking up the trail. After a very long 30 minutes we headed back to the blind. Travis took a look at the hole my arrow had left in the screen. I had nicked the fabric on the bottom of the window. I was busy looking for blood or my arrow at the spot my buck had been standing. There was no blood, no arrow and no indication as to which direction he went. The news that I had hit the fabric below the screen made me ill. Doubt began to creep in. Had I made a bad shot? Was he not mortally wounded? Would we find him before the coyotes? I was making myself sick with doubt. We searched in the dark with small, seemingly useless flashlights that revealed
no sign of a hit. Finally, Travis suggested we come back in the morning. I wanted to argue and keep looking but I knew he was right. If there was blood and we were walking all over it we would just make it more difficult. Reluctantly we went home heavy hearted. I had gone from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows in an hour after my finger had touched the release. I did not sleep at all. The morning of September 19, 2013, I jumped out of bed before the sun came up leaving Travis to sleep while I attempted to locate a blood trail. A heavy frost covered everything in opaque white sparkles. I stood where my buck had stood last. We searched eastbound on the trail the night before, but I had a feeling he went north in the direction of a big beaver dam. I suspected he lived in the thick spruce beyond the dam. I stepped off the trail and with my nose nearly on the ground I headed north. The frost made it almost impossible to see the colour of the grass. The sun was just coming up. Inching forward my eyes saw something that looked amiss. It was a tawny spray of swamp grass with a crimson speckle on it. Blood! I called Travis to get out to this spot as quick as he could. He arrived and took up the sparse blood trail. He took a few steps then located another speck,
Jeanette is a very accomplished hunter and has taken a variety of trophy class animals, including this cougar and some great mule deer (opposite). then another, and another. I felt it start to build and knew that hope was cautiously creeping back. It was a great feeling, but I still had too much doubt that would not go away. We ventured past the willows I knew so well. There we found my arrow. It was snapped in half and drenched in blood! Beyond that was the hole I realized that I had heard my buck fall in. There was blood sprayed about waist height in the shoulder high grass. The tracking was easy now. Travis crested a small knoll then abruptly turned and embraced me. I pushed past him asking “Where is he?!� Knowing that he must have seen him, I pressed on. He was untouched by coyotes or birds. The emotions were so overwhelming from relief that I nearly cried. He had only gone 75 yards before falling just yards from the beaver dam. I had worked so hard for this buck. So many hours lying in wait staring at the path he would ultimately take on his death run, now culminated in the buck before me. So much planning, dreaming, sitting and wishing found me standing in disbelief that it had all come together for me. I had my mature, 150 class buck and I got it done with my bow. I had finally fulfilled the goal I had set back in 2006.
CHRISTMAS AME ARLY BY: MARK SCHAFFEL
Mark Schaffel with the impressive whitetail deer that he bagged late in the 2013 season. The buck is a spectacular representation of the giant central Saskatchewan genetics. With every circumference over 5”, matching 24 6/8” main beams and a typical frame with a gross score of 162 3/8”, it is an impressive buck. Add 15 1/8” of abnormal points and the final tally is 177 4/8”.
M
y lifelong dream of shooting a trophy buck, and one of the biggest bucks that I had ever seen, almost didn’t happen. This year, it was one barrier after another that constantly threatened to end the season before it even began. It all started with one of the toughest and longest winters Saskatchewan had seen in over 50 years. Heavy snow in the fields made foraging for food a serious problem, leading to many deer dying of starvation. Predator numbers were on the rise, as the bounty for coyotes had ended the year before. On the home front it had been a very busy year for me. We were fulfilling our family dream of finally getting out of the city and building a home on our five acre property out in the country. It was so time consuming that I had not been able to get out scouting the areas I usually hunt to see what had survived the winter. With a big family that was always on the run to countless sports and activities, “Dad the hunter” had turned in to “Dad the taxi driver”. The one thing that I managed to make time for in preparation for the hunting season was practicing my marksmanship at the range. As a father I have a tough time finding an opportunity to get away without one of my kids with me, but I devised a beautiful plan. I got my kids hooked on shooting targets at the range. Now the kids constantly ask me when we get to go to the range next. My wife loves the idea of two of our kids and I getting out of the house (and out of her hair) on the weekend, and I love the quality time I get to spend with my kids. I am proud to say that I have at least one potential hunting buddy in the works. The final barrier, and the one that almost crushed my hunting season, was my job. I am a manager of a big box retail
store, so I am always busy, working 50 to 60 hours a week. Hunting season falls in the middle of our “Golden Quarter”, and my job is always much more intense when mid-November comes around. There is always something going on that eats up my time and keeps me from getting out and hitting the fields to look for whitetail bucks burdened with massive racks. In fact, I had not been able to go out hunting for the previous three years, as work always seemed too busy to leave behind for even a few days. This year was not looking any better, as my boss was going for a two week holiday right when I was planning on going out hunting. I always fill in for him when he is away, so I was starting to panic. I thought I would be missing yet another hunting season, but lady luck was smiling on me this year. Work had other plans for my boss and he ended up having to delay the start of his holidays until after I came back from my hunting trip. Now that my time off from work was assured, I needed to hook up with my hunting partner. He is a major hunting enthusiast and hunts practically every type of season there is. If you have feathers or fur you better look out, as he will be out looking for you. My cousin Derek is a farmer with a lot of land, and is out in the fields six months of the year. He has seen some very impressive whitetail bucks over the years. Derek always seems to know all of the crazy stories about monster deer that roam the pastures and farm land in his area. Derek was also a professional hunting guide in Manitoba so he knows how to read the lay of the land and think like a big buck. I couldn’t think of a better partner to have out with me during the two shorts days I had to hunt this season. Opening day just could not come soon enough. I had all my hunting gear packed and my rifle cleaned and ready
weeks before deer season even opened. I had a calendar app on my phone counting down the days to opening day. I was like a kid waiting for Christmas. Finally my “Christmas eve” arrived. On my drive out to Derek’s place I had lots of time to try to think about the upcoming season. There was minimal snow in the fields and pastures, and the weather was extremely mild. To make things even more challenging, the rut had not really kicked in yet. Several other hunters I had talked to had mentioned that deer were not moving around much yet. It seemed very few bucks had been spotted moving around in broad daylight. I was hoping Derek had a plan as I was already starting to worry about our chances of seeing any “shooters” during my extremely compressed hunting season. Like all experienced hunters, Derek had a plan. On opening day we cut out early, around 6:30 am, to get out in to position before first light. It was a cool morning, but not cold like we were hoping. We were also hoping for some freshly fallen powder to help make the deer stand out and also easier to track as they traveled through the fields, but the snow gods weren’t in our favour. As we were driving out to our first spot, Derek was telling me about the local deer legend the “Amazon Buck”, which he had personally seen (and shot at) two years before. It was one of the biggest deer he had ever seen. It was also smart, fast, and left hunters in the dust year after year. Derek mentioned that it hadn’t been seen the past few years, and he feared it may have finally succumbed to old age. Chances were, even if it was gone, there would be a few of his sons running around, and if they were at all like their dad they would be impressive. Although our plan was a great one on paper, once out in the field, things didn’t quite go the way they were supposed to. We hardly saw any tracks and the only thing we saw moving in the first half hour was an old coyote running along a fence line. Soon lady luck started to smile on us and off to my left a small 4X4 buck ran out of the bush, being chased by another coyote. That race ended before it even stated, as both coyotes turned away from us and ran for the trees, leaving the buck out in the open. After glassing it, I decided I was not going to settle for a small 4X4 on opening morning. After the small 4X4 ran off we continued with our plan, which was to keep working all of the small clumps of trees, leading up to a giant bush which happened to be where Derek had tried to shoot the Amazon Buck two years earlier. For all our hard work and patience, we managed only to scare up one mulie doe and five whitetail does. There was not a buck to be seen. We kept working our way to the spot where Derek had once seen the Amazon Buck, but it was like hunting on the moon. Nothing but lifeless landscape as far as the eye could see. As we were heading in for lunch we spotted four cows and a mature bull moose in a long bush. After that excitement we headed back to the truck and headed in to town and did what all great hunters do for lunch, had Chinese food! After lunch we headed out to some land just off of an old grid road. It was next to some posted pasture land and there had been some talk of a big heavy antlered deer seen in the
area. Derek figured if we started walking and pushing some sloughs and scrub brush we could see where the game trails were and plan a starting point for the next morning. We spent about 30 minutes walking through cattails and spotted three mature does but not much else. We were walking past a small bush to my left when Derek froze and told me to stop. He whispered for me to slowly turn to my left, and when I did I was looking directly at a mature whitetail buck laying in the bush and staring at me, only 20 yards away! It was the longest 30 seconds of my life. Derek told me it was my shot and I slowly raised my rifle to my shoulder. The buck just started to stand up when I pulled the trigger…but I missed! I could not believe I had missed the buck of a lifetime.
Derek grabbed my shoulder and yelled “run!” and I followed him to a ridge. He raised his rifle and took a shot…and also missed! By now the buck was heading for the pasture, running at an angle from me. At 120 yards I confidently aimed and we could hear the bullet hit. He immediately dropped out of sight and Derek yelled “You got him! Did you see him drop?” When we got close he started to get up so I quickly took the coup de grace shot. As we walked up to him he kept getting bigger! I had never seen such a heavy beamed deer before. I am not a professional trophy hunter and the only camera we had with us was my phone, so we quickly took a few pictures. I could not believe I had shot this trophy of a lifetime at 1:30 in the afternoon on opening day! We quickly got him back
to the farm to dress out, since by now it was only -8 out and we didn’t want the meat to spoil. We spent that evening out in the barn trying to score him with an online form, and we scored it at roughly 180”. It was later scored officially at 177 6/8” at our buck day in town. It was simply the best, and shortest, hunting season I have ever had. We went back out the next couple days to find a nice buck for Derek, but it seemed we had already used all of our luck for the season. I will always remember this hunt and the generosity of my cousin for letting me have the first crack at this amazing buck. Derek told me the other day that after I missed the first shot it was open for anyone, but he had missed with his shot and I dropped it with my second. I will always appreciate the chance he gave me to have the first shot at a buck of a lifetime. I guess you could say Christmas came early for this hunter!
Eric Schmalz poses with his 2013 archery buck, a massive specimen that was the top non-typical of 2013 in the Saskatchewan Bowhunters Association. The north central Saskatchewan buck sports solid mass throughout, double split brow tines, a long droptine and a sticker point on top of the 11 point typical frame. The final score on Eric’s buck was just over 180”, with a net of 171 4/8”.
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BY: ERIC SCHMALZ
G
rowing up hunting, the rifle was the most popular tool to take into the field and it had always been part of my life as a young hunter. The fall days of my youth were spent in the North Central Saskatchewan parkland. I was more fortunate than most when it came to pursuing a great variety of wild game in their natural habitat, even though my success as a hunter was far from renown. My hometown is a place where farmland and forest meet and who’s landscape creates a veritable paradise for hunters who flock to the area annually from far and wide. In those early days, the bow seemed like a crude instrument, used only by the seasoned archer who had spent the better part of their life perfecting the craft. At the age of 16, I was still a rifle hunter, uninitiated and ignorant of the advancements made in archery, until a high school friend asked me to go gopher hunting using his dad’s bow. The bow was an early model Browning compound, too short for my draw length and far from ideal, but I was hooked! I was immediately struck by the challenge of bow hunting, how accuracy is not only affected by a person’s actions before the shot, but after the shot as well. How a hunter must rely on their ability to stalk their prey in an attempt to defeat the prey’s keen senses, to maximize the short range lethality of a bow and arrow. Now to be fair, I didn’t rush out and buy a bow, I continued rifle hunting as the financial priorities of a 16 year old high school student didn’t always include spending what seemed like a fortune, on new archery equipment, but my fascination with archery continued. In 2007 I was living and working in Lloydminster. Hunting had fallen to the backburner in my life. Hunting somehow became a “one of these days” type of activities that just never seemed to materialize, as the demands of my job never seemed to allow for much spare time. I had a friend at work who asked me to tag along with him to the local archery shop, as he was going to pick up a new bow. I had no
intention of buying or even looking at any archery equipment when I entered the store, but after a few shots on the shop range, I was once again hooked and bought one on the spot. After transferring to Northern Saskatchewan in the summer of 2008 I was pleasantly surprised to find Kisslinger Outfitters (a bear outfitter) operating in the area. I immediately offered my help during the spring hunt, delivering hunters to the stands, scouting stand sites for trophy animals, running baits, basically learning how to outfit and hunt for bear. At the end of that season, rather than being paid, I asked if I could hunt one of the outfitter’s stands, and they quickly agreed! That year I was able to harvest a bear using my bow, it was my first animal taken with archery equipment and what a thrill it was. In the summer of 2013, I had been away from the deer woods of my childhood for seven years, but as luck would have it I was transferred back to my hometown. I had heard that the last two winters had decimated the local deer population, but I was undaunted. I began to collect all the accoutrements required to hunt deer in the area. I contacted my friends for advice and to see if any were interested in teaming up for the season. One friend in particular advised we could team up and hunt near his parent’s land. We weren’t expecting record deer after two killing winters, but we set up two test sites in mid-August to see what might be in the area. We returned three days later to the first sight and found a few unimpressive smaller bucks and does on the trail camera, prompting us to move on to the next location. After we arrived at the second location, I was scouting for a place to set up a ground blind while my friend check the trail camera. “Oh my God!” were the words uttered by my friend as he looked at the viewer on the trail camera, I rushed over to see two massive bucks caught on camera together for several minutes at multiple times over the past three days. One was a giant non-typical and the other was an
extremely wide typical whitetail. We immediately returned and set up a ground blind at the location. I placed all the equipment that could stay with the blind inside so I wouldn’t have to pack it out every day, then we waited for opening day. My friend’s job saw him away for long periods at work, so I was able to sit in the blind the most in the early bow season. I monitored the trail camera closely in an attempt to pattern the big bucks and increase my chances of success and by the 23rd of September, 2013, I could set my watch to the times the bucks appeared on camera. That afternoon I entered the blind and set up as usual, hung my bow with arrow nocked, turned on my Ozonics generator and sat back until something came in. Now most hunters will attest that when you are sitting in the woods and all is deathly quiet, a squirrel running across deadfall can sound a lot like a deer approaching, so I had many false alarms thinking a deer was on its way through. First to arrive was a doe, she didn’t seemed disturbed by my presence, which is always a good sign that a buck won’t be bothered either. Once the first doe left the area, a second larger one appeared and remained for several minutes. At this point
BY: ALBERT RICHARD
‘Prime-time’ was fast approaching and I was glad the doe was still around because I could use her as my eyes and ears to signal when another deer was approaching. At about an hour left in legal hunting time, the doe started to signal that something was coming in and began to move away. I became as quiet as a corpse, the sound of my heartbeat in my ears was akin to a bass drum. The two bucks approached from the rear of my blind in an attempt to catch my scent, but the combination of the Ozonics system and having hilled up dirt around the skirt of the blind prevented them from catching any scent. These guys were cautious! Monster bucks don’t become monsters because they’re hasty and foolish! It was coming down to the wire when the giant non-typical stepped into frame. I could see the wide typical out of range behind some trees, but the non-typical moved in like he owned the place. At this point I had my bow resting on my knee, I was shaking and my muscles had become stiff from sitting. My bow is set at 70lbs with a 32” draw, so I had to point the arrow into the upper corner of the blind and use a ‘push-pull’ method to draw, instead of just pulling with my release hand, needless to say it was quite a feat under intense stress. Once the bow was drawn, I came down on target, the non-typical presented me with a perfect broadside shot and I took it!
I waited about 20 minutes before exiting the stand and calling my friend to help track, after a few nervous minutes we found blood and located the big buck on the ground 50 yards from where he was shot. What an awesome end to a whirlwind season. I have to thank my good friend and his parents for allowing me to use their property, buildings and equipment which made this all possible. Kent Ringheim of Wilderness Taxidermy did an absolutely phenomenal job with the mount and had him officially scored at 171 4/8” P&Y net, and 180 1/8” gross. It has to be said that shooting a record book deer after a long absence from deer hunting makes for one heck of a ‘Welcome Back’!
September is the season when the bugling of bull elk send chills through the spine of hunters across North America. Hamilton Greenwood captured this big Saskatchewan bull as he escaped the heat of the day in the shade of some spruce trees.
A
t just 19 years old I came to Alberta from New Brunswick. The draw of big deer out West was a major factor in my decision. Twenty years later, after many successful hunting seasons in Alberta and the joy of teaching my son the rush of big Alberta bucks, I was given the opportunity I only dreamed of, hunting in Saskatchewan. With the help of good local people and all of my hunting friends and family I was able to experience what I had only read about. The first two years was a great learning experience for me and Phil McCaffrey, my connection to Saskatchewan. But after our two years of hunting we decided to change the way we were hunting on our hunting trips with the goal of putting more of those great Saskatchewan bucks in our sights. Our 2013 trip started off the first of November. With a record snow storm in Alberta following us all the way to Saskatchewan, the roads were in a state that nobody should ever drive on, but it was not going to stop us! There were some nervous moments and we wondered if we were making the right decision, but after a 14 hour drive we made it safe and sound to the McCaffrey farm. We started the work day off checking and setting our Spypoint cameras and setting up all the ground blinds with heaters. We had our fathers hunting with us and we wanted to make sure we could keep everyone warm in the record cold. This hunt was really about getting out and seeing new country with our dads, and spending some quality time laughing and hunting together doing what we love most. If a monster buck happened to wander by it would be a great bonus, but it was going to be a great time either way. Over the last few years we had very good luck calling deer, still hunting, even down to doing a few deer drives which all produced deer for us. The last few years, the use of trail cameras had really begun to show us what we had to look forward to, and provide us with information we needed to increase our chances at taking the buck of a lifetime. The deer that showed up since we began to use the trail cameras couldn’t help but put smiles on our faces. We could not wait to set out for opening day.
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I couldn’t believe I was so close to such a giant buck, but I could not get a shot!
”
We started off November 25th very early in the morning, while making coffee and lunches for the day the big question on everyone’s mind was who was going where and to what blind. The “6x6 site” was the number one spot of the year, and to keep it fair, we drew straws to see who had the first opportunity to sit at that spot this year. To my father’s delight, he was the lucky hunter. The night before, we had a snow storm and strong wind that had drifted the snow in on all the roads. It had left a significant crust that was about 6” deep, making it hard to get around and nearly impossible to drive close to
some of the blinds. We spent an hour before sunrise getting the truck unstuck, shovelling and working hard just to get to our spots! While we were digging out of the snow, we noticed a few does and fawns trying to get across the road. The deer were having a hard time with the snow crust, watching them work their way through the snow gave us a smile and a good feeling to start the morning off. At first light, it was time to get hunting and my father made the three mile walk with all of his hunting gear for the day. I made my way to the south spot, struggling against a very cold wind. After the long hard walk, neither my father nor I saw a single deer all day long. The next day was the same, with no action around the blinds. We decided to do some still hunting on the deer trails in the area and tried calling. This gave us a chance to get out and see the beautiful countryside; it was also a change to finally see some deer. We ran into a few small bucks, and a lot of very small bucks. There were no mature bucks, and hardly any does or fawns. That night we stopped by and talked to some friends in town to surprisingly find out that the 2012 winter was really bad for the deer population. This certainly was confirmed by what we were seeing. The next day the plan was the same, hit the ground running with me and my father sticking it out in the blinds, as some deer were starting to use the areas again. As I dropped my father off at the 6x6 blind I made my way over to the sound blind when I ran into two very nice bucks crossing the field heading toward the south blind. I was excited; they were heading into the same area as I was! With all my gear and hunting supplies
BY: NICK PILOTE
Nick Pilote of Lacombe, Alberta travelled to Saskatchewan in 2013. He met up with some good friends and was able to close the deal on an absolutely beautiful buck. The typical 6x6 frame has sweeping beams that really round out the look of the antlers. Despite an inside spread of only 15 7/8�, the buck still has an impressive net score of 163 4/8�. Marco Pilon of Sugar Creek Taxidermy out of Red Deer, Alberta, did an incredible job on the euro mount, complete with snow and icicles!
I was carrying I was unable to get set up on the bucks for a shot. I decided to go to the blind and sit out the morning. After a few hours of sitting, I again did not see a single deer, just magpies. Phil was in the same area and we decided to spend the afternoon and evening scouting. Phil wanted to show me some new deer spots. This lead us to a great sighting of an older buck, which lead to another sighting of a fantastic buck that we had tried hunting in past years with no luck. The next morning we had my father and Phil hunting that same area, trying to get a look at one of the deer. Later that morning, Phil ended his season by taking a beautiful 5x5, the first buck we had seen the previous day. My father decided to go back to the 6x6 blind, while Phil and I continued in the same old area we had hunted in the years passed. We had actually missed a great buck in the area in 2012, so I hoped that he may still be in the area. Honestly though, at this point I was starting to come to terms with going home to Alberta without filling my tag. I just had a feeling like this wasn’t the year when it was going to happen, and I was not going to shoot a small buck just to fill my tag. We had pulled into an old oil well site and set up on a creek bottom that had held a lot of deer the previous year. We started to do a little calling and rattling. This did not take long and a small buck came out to see what the racket was about. At first he was very nervous and kept looking to the south. I knew he must be looking at something and as I followed his line of sight I saw a monster buck with a big frame on the top of his head making his way back in to the trees! Phil and I first decided that he would keep
calling and I would go to the east side of the small woods, near the swamp bottom and climb up an old hay stack that was approximately 12’ high. I made my way to the hay stack and got setup. It was only about ten minutes when I spotted the deer. He was definitely a shooter! He worked his way along the edge of the trees by the swamp, but seemed to be on a mission and was coming in hard. He was following a deer trail that came by me at 15 yards! I was trying not to look at his big rack and keep it cool. Sure enough, he stepped out in front of me at 25 yards, but he was behind some willows and an old light pole from the farm yard! I couldn’t believe I was so close to such a giant buck, but I could not get a shot! I thought that the buck was going to bust me and take off like a rocket, never to be seen again. Then, at the perfect time Phil gave a light rattle on the horns and a grunted. That caught the attention of the buck and he started to walk right by me. I gave a soft grunt and he stopped in his tracks with willows all around him. With a deep breath, I was able to get a bullet between the willows and into the boiler room. He sucked it up like it was nothing and started to run away passing right by me! I did not waste the opportunity to get one more shot off for good measure. He hit the dirt and I knew I had my trophy buck from Saskatchewan! I took four years of hard work, and a lot of patience by the whole group of us. I was an experience I will share with my hunting group and one that gave everyone involved a high of all highs. I would like to give special thanks to the McCaffrey family and all the land owners in that area. I can’t wait for the new season and to get a chance to do it all over again.
Everything Outdoors
...with Kevin Wilson
SHOOTING & SHOT PLACEMENT
I
t makes me squirm every time I hear about the one that got away. No one likes to admit it, and, frankly it happens more often than it should, but every year animals are shot and not retrieved. To kill an animal requires proper shot placement and follow up. Indeed, there is often a fine line between a killing shot and the rodeo that sadly ends with lost game. Hunt long enough and in variable conditions, and you will lose an animal – this is a fact few can avoid. I might even go so far as to suggest that if you think you’ve never lost an animal then you may have unwittingly done so. By this I’m referring to the countless animals that are lost each year by individuals who don’t follow up on their shot, or maybe do so ineffectively. Very few shots will bring an animal down on the spot. Certainly some do and seasoned hunters know what those shots are, but most don’t. I once watched an arrow pass straight through the middle of a bear’s chest. The bruin collapsed only a stone’s throw from my stand. Twenty minutes later, as soon as my feet hit the ground, he jumped up and scampered away, never to be seen again. On another occasion I witnessed a broadside archery shot as an arrow penetrated deep into the chest of a mature bull moose. It literally knocked him off his feet, but after hours of searching with very little sign, he was nowhere to be seen. On the flip side, some animals collapse instantly with one well-placed shot to the vitals or central nervous system. On a goat hunt in British Columbia, I shot a billy in the top onethird of the shoulder using a 7 mm Rem Mag with a 165 grain Swift A-frame bullet. At contact, his neck folded and he was dead before hitting the ground.
I share these unique scenarios not to sensationalize, but to illustrate that where we place our shot makes a big difference in how the animal reacts. Even when we target the lungs, seldom are two chest shots the same. Some animals react differently, particularly those shot with an arrow. We have an ethical obligation to do our best to put game down quickly. We know that human error is inevitable and that an infinite combination of variables can affect shot placement. Knowing this, it’s our responsibility to maximize mechanical accuracy and minimize the potential for human error. Hunting is an imperfect activity. No two shots are the same. Despite best efforts, a myriad of factors dictate whether an animal goes down quickly or requires a labor intensive tracking job. From target zones on the animal to maintaining equipment and executing the shot, several factors affect how fast an animal dies. Some experienced hunters argue that neck or even head shots are most lethal. While they can certainly bring game down quickly, I caution against taking these shots. Although there are unique circumstances when I might support a neck shot, as a rule I strongly discourage these mostly due to the margin for error. Both are small targets and the odds of making a poor shot are too high putting the animal at unnecessary risk. Know that if you take out the heart, lungs, major arteries, central nervous system, or liver your chances of retrieving shot game increase exponentially. For archers, a double lung shot is always best because you’re relying on hemorrhaging alone. For gun hunters, a well-placed broadside shot through shoulder taking out the vital central nervous system can collapse most North American game instantly. A double lung shot will most often result in a quick kill. This is usually best accomplished by shooting the animal from a broadside or quartering away position. Elk and moose can be an exception but a double-lung hit is commonly considered the safest option. Head on, quartering toward, the proverbial Texas heart shot, or most other positions are discouraged; there are simply too many variables that can create unnecessary complications. As far as shot placement is concerned, it is imperative that we understand the anatomy of the game we are hunting. Yes, they all have vital organs and each can die quickly with a precise hit. For instance, the vitals in a bear are different from those of a deer. Likewise, the shoulder bone of
a moose or elk is heavier than that of a deer. Here are a few online resources I’ve found that help illustrate the vitals of deer, black bear and elk: • Deer: http://www.deerhunting.ws/deeranatomy.htm • Bear: http://www.americanbear.org/anatomy.htm or http://www.theidahosportsman.com/bear%20anatomy.pdf • Elk: http://www.bowhunting.net/NAspecies/elk2.html Another worthwhile resource was written by Chuck Hawks. His article is titled Where to Shoot Big Game and it can be found at http://www.chuckhawks.com/where_to_shoot.htm. Recognizing the right time to shoot comes with experience. Many of us have taken game while it was walking or on a fullout run. In most instances, running shots aren’t necessary. Its good practice to wait until game is stopped and in a relaxed demeanor. Whether you are a bow hunter or a gun hunter, as a rule, keep your sights trained on the kill zone until the animal is stopped and ideally focused on something other than you, e.g. feeding. No matter how skilled you are as an archer or rifleman, you can only be as good as your equipment. You can aim for perfect shot placement, but if your equipment isn’t up to snuff, it’ll take a miracle to hit your mark. Bows and guns should always be sighted in before hunting. Likewise, bows and guns should be kept clean, with all parts gone over to ensure that everything is in working order, e.g., limb bolts, arrow rests, actions, barrels, etc. Making the perfect shot when the opportunity presents itself – that’s what it’s all about. The most common variables causing a bad shot are lack of familiarity with equipment and the encounter itself. The only way we can improve our skill in the off-season is by practicing. This involves several things. Familiarity with your bow or gun can make or break your shooting ability when the pressure of shooting at a live game animal presents itself. One of the most beneficial things we can do is practice shooting under simulated field conditions. This may be done by shooting silhouettes or 3D targets in the off-season. Likewise, new video shooting units like the DART System allow us to practice realistic field shooting scenarios on a video screen. The system scores them based on proximity to the kill zone. Poor shot placement (inaccuracy) can often be traced to overconfidence and is the result of a rushed shot. It’s important to remember that all shooting demands precision. In turn, concentration is paramount. Confidence founded in familiarity with your equipment and proven ability to place a shot is important but there’s a fine line between overconfidence and touching off at the right instant. As you prepare to take your shot, control your breathing. Breathing involves inhaling and exhaling which in turn moves your body. This makes it almost impossible to get a precise lock on your target. Hold your breath momentarily to steady for the shot. Whenever possible use a shooting rest to stabilize
your gun. Whether it’s a bench rest or a daypack, tree branch, log or rock, always take advantage of a rest. By bracing for the shot, the shooter effectively minimizes human error. When it comes to the shot itself, trigger control is imperative – much the same as it is with activating the shutter on a camera. Gently and fluidly squeeze the trigger, and you’re more apt to maintain your aiming point. Be sure to use the tip of your finger and not the body of it. Follow through is equally important when shooting bows and firearms. In reality, by the time your body reacts to any recoil, the arrow or bullet is long gone. The challenge for most bow hunters is fighting the urge to peek, in other words rush to see where the arrow will hit. With rifles, many shooters anticipate the recoil during the lock time and end up flinching. Follow through is critical to maintaining shooting form and resulting accuracy. By keeping your eye on the target through a scope or iron sight, you force your body to stay in proper position which in turn reinforces accuracy. This can be especially important when shooting blackpowder guns in which muzzle velocity is far slower. To sum up, with familiarity comes confidence. Knowing your equipment and understanding anatomy will help you put game down quickly and efficiently. Remember, we owe it to the game we’re hunting to place our shots in a manner that will result in a quick kill.
BY: Drew Baier
I
DREAM
t was mid-June 2012. As a good buddy and I hung a new tree stand and a trail camera in a very secluded location, I thought back to all of the hunts my dad and I had been on in the same area. The first month was fairly uneventful, but it was still early so I was not worried. In early July, my cousin Seth started scouting an adjacent property. I helped him scout and put out some cameras on the property. Seth immediately began getting pictures of a giant non-typical! The photos continued throughout the summer and into early fall. Each time we pulled a card, we could not believe the growth and incredible character the monster buck was putting on. In midOctober, the buck vanished completely from Seth's cameras. We feared he vacated the area, and moved on to some unknown ground where he would spend the rut. Despite our fears, we knew our area held many does and that if we put in our time, we would have a decent chance of catching him if and when he made a mistake. Even though I had not captured any pictures of the big non-typical on my cameras, I still had confidence in the new tree stand that we put up back in June. Recent pictures of a couple other really nice shooters in that area kept me opti-
Drew Baier with his freak buck from Southwest Iowa. He captured numerous trailcam photos of the incredible deer before finally being able to put an arrow into him. The amazing buck had broken off at least 15” of his right antler just prior to the kill, but still scored very high with a gross score of 222 5/8” and an official net score of 215 5/8”!
mistic. My thoughts continued to drift toJust imagine what must have been going through wards the images of that giant non-typical, Drew’s head when he checked his cameras and but I did not want to get my hopes too high. On the morning of November 3rd, I huntfound the pictures of this once in a lifetime buck! ed that new set for the first time. It was an uneventful morning. As I sat perched high in the tree, all that wandered passed me was two young bucks. Although it was slow, I was encouraged because it looked like they were out cruising for does. I pulled the SD card out of my camera on the walk back to the truck. I was now shortly before 11:00 AM. It was a pleasant surprise to see that the big non-typical had shown up, and in the daylight nonetheless! I wanted to turn right around and climb back in the tree but I decided to head back and go talk to my hunting partners in order to make a plan. After discussing the situation with Seth and my Dad, I decided to slip back into that stand the same afternoon. It was a great start to the closed the distance to 40 yards but never offered a shot. He fed hunt. I had a very close encounter with a 160 class buck early in north into the wind and disappeared around a bend. I was so the evening. He was well within range but, as is often the case thankful for the encounter with such an incredible buck, and I with archery tackle, he didn’t present me with a clear shot and I was now more determined than ever to put in the time needed was not going to take a marginal shot on any deer, regardless of to finally get a clear shot at the now legendary buck. the size. The big 160 slowly cruised out of range and then disI knew I may only get one more chance, so I dared not risk appeared. Some turkeys came out of the woods and started to hunting the area again until the wind was perfect. On Novementertain me. As I was watching them, I heard something in the ber 6th, the wind was finally right to get back into that stand. corn stalks behind me. It was only a rustle, but I decided to take I arrived around 1:30 pm with the wind blowing strong and a look just in case. As I turned to see the source of the noise, steadily out of the northwest. The hunt started off very slow. In my heart skipped a beat when I saw the unmistakable rack of fact, I didn't see a single deer until 4:45 pm, but it was the deer the big non-typical! He had been bedded in a thicket, not more I was there to see! He was bedded in that same thicket right by than 100 yards from my stand. I was blown away by the size of my stand again, only this time he took a different path. It was his rack and the craziness of the situation, with him so close the path I had setup for and all he had to do keep going down that whole time. He very slowly fed towards me, but was not on the trail and I would get a clear shot! I took a deep breath and the trail I needed him to get on in order to present a shot. He tried to calm down as he was only a couple steps away from
entering my shooting lane, then he turned and started walking straight away! Before panic set in I somehow kept composed enough to give him a snort wheeze. Immediately, he turned to circle down wind and right into my shooting lane. I came to full draw and stopped him at 35 yds. As I let the arrow fly, time slowed down and it seemed like a slow motion replay I was watching as the arrow flew through the air and hit its mark. He only ran about 60 yards and went down in plain sight of my stand! After making a couple phone calls from the tree, I was able to climb down to claim my prize. I had visualized what it would be like to walk up on this deer ever since Seth got the first pic-
tures of him. I just sat there on the ground, reliving the hunt and admiring my buck in disbelief for over an hour, waiting for my dad to get there to share the moment with me. I am very blessed to have been given the opportunity to take such a whitetail. He is truly a buck of a lifetime, and I thank everyone that was involved. I was not aware until the recovery, but he had broken the end of his main beam and a couple other tines including a unique droptine off of his left base. An estimated 15 to 20 inches, but it doesn't matter to me at all. He still gross scored 222 5/8 and officially netted 215 5/8 non-typical B&C.
ONCE IN A
BLUE MOON BY: SAVANNA KOEBISCH
O
nce in a blue moon, a father will return with his daughter to share, and make, new mountain memories in the place of his high alpine hunting debut. Luckily for me, 2012 was such a year! The following season I would also be treated to a literal blue moon hovering over that same traditional campsite. My dad, Peter Koebisch, moved to Alberta in the mid 70’s specifically with the intention of hunting bighorn sheep. Several decades later, I seem to have been bitten and infected by the same bug. This year’s opening day kicked off the fifth hunting season in which I’ve scoured the slopes for sheep. Although I’d been along on numerous hunting trips since I was twelve weeks old, it wasn’t until the ripe old age of twelve years that I matured to appreciate and utilize the wonderful mountain range which we live so close to; with the Rocky Mountains seemingly bordering our backyard, it would be a shame not to. Dad patiently put up with my fear of heights and bears, while I grew to love scrambling and pepper spray. The duration of our trips grew longer and soon we were partaking in two week long expeditions. However, it wasn’t until the third season that we truly hit the jackpot. While out on a day trip, Dad glassed a lone ram bedded in the powder snow under a cliff face. Instead of stalking the ram himself, he selflessly trekked back the 15 kilometers to collect me and return the next day. Carrying all the necessities for a
small spike camp, we were prepared to lay siege to the mountainside. Early the next morning, battling knee high snowdrifts, we crept towards the outcrop where the ram previously dozed. His calling card was a few blown over hoof prints and a concave bed. Picking apart the panorama, Dad promptly located the mountain monarch behind us. He was sampling the sparse rough fescue which spotted the slope. After a short, yet difficult stalk through the timberline forest, he was aligned with a window in the branches, and finally with my crosshairs. My steady finger squeezed the trigger on my 7mm08 Remington and the ram dashed around the mountain’s corner then out of sight. We waited several seemingly long minutes before approaching. Moments of hide and seek hurled my heart into my throat, but finally there he was eternally resting on the scree slopes which he called home. Needless to say our sheep hunting team was highly emotional. His chocolate cape and colossal horns reflected his mature 10 1/2 years and the tough terrain he traversed. Countless hours, kilometers, blisters, and sore muscles had finally paid off.
Savanna Koebisch with the culmination of an incredible hunt with her father, an elusive big horn ram. She took the massive, mature animal when she was only 16 years old! The ram slipped into the record books with a score of 180� even.
That same evening my feet went flying out from under me, resulting in me crashing far down the mountainside. Loaded to the brim with two rifles, all our optics and some camping equipment, my backpack acted as a counterweight and hurled my flailing limbs into an uncoordinated circus act of backwards summersaults. Another scar and another story, just call me Al Capone. A Boone and Crockett record book score of 180 was just the icing on the cake, of what will always be my most memorable hunt. Now that my tag was filled, it was my turn to be the guide. Like every year, August 25th, 2012, brought the opening day of a new sheep season. Returning to the place of Dad’s inaugural sheep hunt, we trekked back in history. We were reviewing Dad’s Kodachrome slides in live time. Glancing up at two cliff bands striating the mountainside, we pondered how my father and uncle had descended on a slick and rainy night in pursuit of a wounded and fallen ram. Even in the daylight, it now appeared impossible. What you can’t see beyond your flashlight beam can’t hurt you, I guess. Trekking onwards to our so called “K1” camp, Dad recounted some history. On a sheep scouting trip with my mom, a mixed herd of ungulates, deer and elk alike, starved for salt, had paraded through the campsite the entire night. They licked everything in sight for minerals. Any visible leather was thoroughly cleansed, and even the saddle latigo was chewed in half. Good thing Dad, back then a
self-proclaimed cowboy, had brought an extra latigo, or else my parents would still be in K1. Beginning our morning with the usual bowl of instant oatmeal, we scanned the next crest we would be climbing. Not sure whether a trail remained, after all Dad was going by 20+ year old information, we set out in hope of finding our final base camp: “K2”. The hill was steep, but not as bad as the deadly ascent of the real K2 mountain we reassured ourselves. At the top I plopped onto the prickly foliage, exhausted and refusing to walk another step. We had reached the bare and unprotected K2 camp, where my parents had once foolishly camped many years prior. Dad insisted on continuing towards a further patch of evergreens, experience telling him that this would undoubtedly make a better campsite. Sure enough, we weren’t the first to have thought this and there was already a well established and leveled campsite. Even before we unpacked our tent, binoculars were snatched from our packs for an initial scan of the surrounding high alpine valley. “Dad I see a white bum!” No, not that of an unsuspecting sheep hunter relieving himself, rather that of a lone ram. By the time our spotting scope tripod was settled into the moss cloaked soil, the ram was skylined and was going ‘round the mountain’. “We’ll see him again, I’m sure of it,” Dad opined. Sure enough, while later that day exploring the upper regions of the valley, we spotted the ram. Like before, he disappeared into the shale and we were unable to locate his secret hiding lair. His customary disappearance act earned him the name “Houdini.” The typical opening day snow storm came and went. On one of our daily treks through the basin we were reacquainted with old friends. As Dad always says: the further North or the deeper and higher into the mountains you go, the smaller the world gets. In the exchange of small talk they informed us exactly when and where they had spotted a mature boar grizzly excavating roots. We never did see him though. Settling down at noon for smoked oysters, cheddar cheese, Triscuits, and a quick glass around, I heard hoofbeats. Expecting to see horses,
I stood up to get a better look. “Dad, rams!” I stammered to Dad, who quickly picked up the rifle, chambered a cartridge, and rounded the tree clump to verify my seemingly unrealistic statement. A mere 30 yards away trotted three rams. Quickly judging the larger ram, luckily in profile, and verifying that he was legal, Dad shouldered the rifle and dropped him on the spot. We looked at each other, both standing there completely dumbfounded. From me shouting rams, to us standing there with our jaws hanging had taken less than ten seconds. The sheep had been crossing the valley bottom to get to a parallel mountain range and we had been unintentionally positioned for the ultimate interference. After snapping hundreds of pictures, we trekked to our friend’s camp down another valley. They provided the best spaghetti my half-starved stomach had ever tasted, and the possibility of packing out the ram on their horses. Thanks guys, we owe you one! Probably the only time I’ve ever seen Dad cook was the following night, when he whipped up ram fillet with apple (pine needles accidentally included, as with every mountain meal) in a whiskey sauce. As celebration, our whiskey bottle, that always comes along no matter how heavy the pack, was passed around. I guess there are some traditions that never will change, no matter how many moons pass. It was now one year later. Tonight the pastel gunsteel blue moon was large and looming over our modest campsite, located deep in the heart of Alberta’s wilderness. A forest fire in the area accounted for the slight blue hue of this globe, which only appears every two to three years. The aroma of dehydrated Mountain House lasagna wafted through the spruce trees and I’m sure made it’s way past several grizzlies nostrils. Luckily the bears behaved themselves that night. As we plopped down to enjoy our meal, sore backsides gave us quite the reminder of the three hour long horseback ride we’d just completed. In order to move further back into the mountain range, we had rented an outfit to pack us in the first fourteen kilometers. From there on, we were the mules. Still echoing in my mind was the clatter of horseshoes. The area in which we were hunting was special and held many memories for my dad, and now me too. It was here that he shot his first bighorn many moons ago. This year our good friends Michael and Roger had joined us. These two are some of the fittest men I’ve ever met; they make mountain hunting look easy. The following day brought sizzling heat and the departure of our two good amigos up a different drainage. Dad and I struggled to steady our feet with 65 lbs on our backs, and set off towards K2 camp again. The first three kilometers of the trek were crisscrossed with fourteen different creek crossings. Braving the numbing cold and slimy rocks, we cautiously traversed with our packs wobbling and threatening to tip us over. Nobody fell in, though my Dad told me the tale of him acci-
dentally submerging his brother while providing a piggyback across the surging waters. When my uncle emerged, the frigid temperature had turned him into a redneck knight in frozen armour. Watching my feet instead of my surroundings, when I looked up there was a bear 100 yards in front of me. Padded with muscle and some serious love handles, this healthy looking boar had one of the most beautiful coats I’d ever seen. While predominantly golden, his back was silver tipped, the legs chestnut brown and his ample rump almost black. Dad nicknamed this ole boy Muddybutt. This bear must have kept an accurate calendar, since he was at the same location, on the same day, at the same time where our friends had spotted him the year before. On opening morning we encountered a bad omen; the shrill scream of a cougar echoed up to our vantage point as we glassed the sheepless slopes. The correlation was no coincidence. Although we visually turned over every stone with our binoculars the following days, the drainages failed to produce rams so we returned to the drop off camp. For Roger, the many moons of waiting for a ram of his own was over, and it was an honour to share the excitement and a camp with him. I always wonder how many more moons, or even blue moons, will creep over a silhouetted summit and glow over the campsites which Dad and I share. We certainly aren’t the typical face of sheep hunting: a crusty looking over 60 year old and a weak appearing 18 year old girl, but we make it happen and are an inseparable team. No one will ever come close to being as fantastic a mentor and sheep hunting partner as him. Hopefully it happens more often than just once in a blue moon that a father shares his love of the mountains with his daughter. Fathers, take your daughters sheep hunting. Daughters, pass on the legacy.
R
MUH N W A BY: SH
Shawn Muhr and his 2013 whitetail buck. His deer has eveything needed to score high with a big frame, long beams, and very long tines from front to back. In addition, the rack is almost perfectly typical, losing only 2 1/8” in deductions. The gross score comes in at 180 3/8” with a net score of an impressive 178 2/8”! Shawn and his son Jordan own and operate Prairie Taxidermy in Odessa, Saskatchewan and did a great job on the mount and unique pedestal.
M
y passion for the outdoors began when I was 12 years old. I started hunting with my father and have never looked back. Enjoying the outdoors and the experiences on the great hunting trips I have been fortunate to be a part of has always been a highlight. My love for the outdoors has taken me to the mountains of British Columbia where I was able to hunt mountain goats and to the NorthWest Territories where I have guided and hunted Caribou. Over the years I have harvested many trophy animals, but have never had the bragging rights of the ultimate hunting accomplishment, a Boone and Crockett whitetail. In 1993, I harvested the largest typical Elk in Saskatchewan for that year scoring 351. But I still longed for that Boone and Crockett whitetail that I would be able to call my own. I have had a few chances over the years but could never put the puzzle together to do it. I have always dreamed of harvesting a Boone and Crockett whitetail. Each year many hours are put into scouting and checking cameras, but I have not been lucky enough to find that one trophy buck that makes your heart race. The long wait has made me want it more and more with each passing year. The 2013 whitetail season was approaching; however, whitetail numbers were way down in our area so I was having a hard time getting too excited about getting scouting. After much time spent scouting, I decided not to put out my trail cameras, thinking I wouldn’t even have a chance at a good deer. Working for Precision Ag Services out of the South East corner of Saskatchewan has allowed me to travel to many different areas of whitetail country, as well as new hunting grounds that I have never hunted before. This year’s scouting consisted of me driving from my house to work and home again. I was getting discouraged, everyone was talking about how few bucks there were around and what I was seeing confirmed this. There was not a lot of deer sign, if any at all on some days. The numbers were down drastically so the urge of even buying a deer license was starting to fade away fast. The more I thought about it, the more I was leaning toward buying a tag. After all, it didn’t necessarily mean I had to use it. So a few days before the season was set to open, I decided to purchase a deer license. I hoped that I would have a run of luck and see a buck over the next three weeks of hunt-
ing season that would get me excited. The first week of the deer season had come gone and I hadn’t made it out. My drives to and from work were discouraging, I was not seeing many deer at all. I told myself that I would not harvest any deer unless it was a mature 5x5 buck. Allowing the smaller bucks to grow and the does to reproduce was critical in allowing the herd to recover, and I was going to be a part of the solution. Other hunters were not seeing any good bucks either, and talking to my hunting buddies everyone was saying the same thing, “deer numbers are down.” The chance of running into my dream buck on a year like this was going to be very tough. I was starting to think I was not going to even bother going out in search of a buck, but rather just hang my tag on the Christmas tree in December. This would be a first in my hunting years that I would not even attempt the whitetail season in Saskatchewan, but considering the circumstances, it was probably the right thing to do. I was committed to either taking a mature buck or nothing at all. It was Tuesday November 26th and I walked into my office complaining to my co-workers about the lack of deer and how I was not going to get out hunting. One of my co-workers, Dean Schenk came walking out of his office and started to tell me about a buck he had seen Monday on his work travels just the day before. He started telling me how big this deer was as he got a good look at it as it crossed the road in front of him and stood 150 yards! He explained how the buck then walked into an abandoned yard site. I thought to myself, “If I get a chance, I have to head into the area and see if I can find this buck, at least to take a look and see if he is as big as Dean says”. Driving home that night from work I couldn’t get this deer off
my mind. I thought, “Maybe this is a buck that would get me excited to have hanging on my wall.” It was now November 28th, two days after Dean had told me about the deer. I finally had time so I headed to the area to where he said he had last seen it. I had to see for myself, it was the only chance I had at a mature buck, so was definitely worth a look. I told my wife that I was going to go see this deer and she laughed and said, “Like it’s going to be still standing there waiting for you”. I left home half hour before sunrise so I would time it perfect to arrive at shooting legal time and see what I could find. When I got to the area, I was trying to find the road and old yard site that Dean had told me about but couldn’t seem to find it. I decided to turn down one old road and traveled about half a mile. I noticed the snow covered road did not have a track on it. I was the first to drive it all winter. It brought me out to a main grid which I turned south on and could see the old yard site a mile away. I thought, “Okay, now if I could just see one deer it would get my hopes up.” As I came up to the old yard site I noticed a lot of deer tracks on the road as well in the trees bordering the yard. I stopped and took a good look at all the tracks indicating that there was some deer in the area that I need to find. This was more tracks than I had come across all season, so my hopes were up and I just hoped the buck was around, hopefully with some hot does. I decided to slowly sneak through the abandoned yard, hoping the deer would still be on their feet, and out in the open. Just as I came
around the corner where I could see passed the yard site, there he was, standing 200 yards out in an open stubble field! Standing with three does, but already looking right at me! I put my binoculars up to make sure he was a mature buck holding all his points, and that it was the deer I was looking for. He stayed in his place looking at me for 15 seconds then he started to panic and took off leaving me there thinking, “Okay, he is a BIG deer!” I watched him take off west through an open field and leave his does and he was on the run. I thought I had an idea where he was going so I headed over there, and hiked out until I was in a good vantage point where I could scan the area, hoping to get another glimpse of him. I settled in and waited about a minute, and then there he was, coming straight at me about 500 yards! The big old buck spotted me though and he decided to turn and head south of me. I waited until he was about 300 yards and I put up my 300 ultra mag and pulled the trigger. I hit him high in his shoulder, and then took one more shot hitting him in the neck, and it was over. I couldn’t believe what had taken place and how quickly it all happened. Things generally just do not happen that quickly and perfectly when you are hunting. I had just found this buck and now he was lying at my side. As I walked up to him, there was absolutely no ground shrinkage; he was truly a giant buck, and perhaps one that would finally make the record book! I made one quick phone call to my wife and kids telling them I just shot a Boone and Crocket typical deer, “The biggest I have ever seen!” They were all excited and wanted to see pictures right away. My son Jordan could not wait to get home from school that day to see my deer. I was one happy hunter, and was excited to share it with my family! After tagging and loading, I was headed home. A week later I called Pat Mckenzie (official scorer) to get a score on my deer. It was to my shock that the numbers added up to 180 3/8 gross, 178 2/8 net. He was a 180 class buck and lost only two inches in deductions. Truly a dream buck and one I will always enjoy looking on my wall. The taxidermy work was done by me and my son Jordan, owner and co-worker of Prairie Taxidermy located at Odessa Saskatchewan. I would like to send another Thank you out to co-worker Dean Schenk for the heads up on the deer that filled my Boone and Crocket Dreams!
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DOUBL
HOVE S L BY: JASON CARSTAIRS
This story started five years ago. My dad had returned home from his hunt where he spent time in one of his favorite tree stands located in big bush country. It is overlooking a large cut line which has produced good action for us in the past. I could tell he was excited as he further described to me what had just taken place. He said “I was sitting there taking the true purity of the outdoors all in, when two good sized bull moose suddenly stepped out onto the big cut!� With further examination he noticed the larger of the two bulls had what he described as double shovels! He had never seen a bull like this in his entire life. He described the bull as having twelve to thirteen points on each side and many of those points came from his front palms. Dad decided the next time he was drawn for bull moose he wanted nothing more than to pursue this very unique bull. Year after year dad tried to pull a tag so we go hunt the bull, but year after year he was denied. We knew the time would eventually come, but all we could do was hope that bull would
survive the harsh Alberta winters and elude the other hunters that hunted the nearby properties. The fall of 2013 had arrived and finally dad had drawn his bull moose tag! We were unsure if the bull we all now knew as Double Shovel was still around, but on October 8th I again headed to the area that Double Shovel called home. I was hunting whitetails, as the area also holds some tremendous bucks. I started the short trek to one of my tree stands, and had just entered a big meadow full of slough grass and willows. Much to my surprise only 150 yards away stood two moose. I instantly realized it was a cow and a bull as they were in peak rut. They both had their eyes locked on me but I slowly continued to make my way quietly to my stand which was situated along the edge of the meadow in a stand of poplars. As I settled into my stand I finally got my first look good look at the two love sick moose. My jaw almost dropped as I locked my binos onto the bull. I clearly remember he had his head tipped back displaying
Jason Carstairs and his father with the huge bull moose his dad had encountered years previous while hunting in northern Alberta. The big bull has a very unique rack with gigantic fronts and ‘double shovels’. The 29 point rack was 52 2/8” wide and had a gross score of 191 5/8”, and a net score of 186 4/8”. his magnificent rack but all I could really see were his giant fronts which obscured almost the entire rest of his antlers.. I instantly knew I was looking at the bull dad had named “DOUBLE SHOVEL” and I now knew exactly what he was talking about. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have a moose tag so the bull would be safe, but knowing dad held a draw for bull moose I knew where we would be looking come November for rifle season. I sat the rest of the evening, not seeing much of anything else. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell dad what had
just transpired and to tell him Double Shovel was still alive and well and was the biggest moose I had ever seen! Finally, November arrived and dad told me I needed to run to town and grab a partner license so we could hunt the bull together. In Alberta, for certain species we can purchase what is called a partner license which allows two people to hunt under the same license as long as they are hunting together. Every year I take my holidays from work in November to hunt out at the farm and get a few days of hunting in with my dad, it’s a
ritual. We always make a plan to split up and walk through the big bush country hoping to stir up a giant whitetail or moose. But this year would be different as we would be hunting pretty much within eyesight of each other. The area we hunt is approximately 8-9 quarters of solid bush full of hills, muskegs and willowy sloughs. We figured finding the big old bull was like looking for a needle in a hay stack but we had to try something. It was November 2nd when dad and I both set out on foot, looking for our quarry but even after all our efforts we came up empty handed. The moose were definitely in the area judging by the abundant sign in the area but they had eluded us this day. Unfortunately, dad had to get back to work but we would continue our efforts the following weekend as my holidays started November 9th and went on till the 20th and dad would have a long weekend off. The entire week at work felt like it was never going to end, but with each passing day my excitement grew. This is the time of year I wait for every year, hunting whitetails and moose with my dad. Saturday finally arrived but as I looked outside, the weather had now turned snowy and windy so we decided we would spend the first part of the morning scouting the area, looking for fresh sign. If any moose had crossed the lease road in front of us, we knew they had to be close. It seemed as though the weather had the moose held up tight for there wasn’t much sign anywhere. We knew they had to be held up in the thick brush trying to escape the wind and snow. By lunch the weather hadn’t changed much, but the wind seemed to of died down a bit. I mentioned to dad that the weather wasn’t ideal, but we weren’t going to find his moose sitting in the truck. So, once again, we set out on foot hoping to cover a couple quarters before dark would overcome us. We set out approximately 200 yards apart, but within eyesight. The snow was really coming down now and without proper gear such as my Butler Creek scope covers the hunt would have been impossible. Every so often we would meet up and quietly discuss what we were seeing and thinking. It was about 4:00pm when I jumped a pretty nice whitetail buck, but this early in the hunt he wasn’t what I was looking for. We continued on down the two cut lines. We were only a mile or so away from the truck with light fading fast. Dad mentioned to me at this point it was still early so we really shouldn’t shoot any bull unless he was a really good one being 48” spread or better. I really didn’t think it was in the cards for us at this point, but we continued on. There was a fence up ahead and as I crossed the fence and crested the hill, a mere five steps from it I heard a thunder of hooves and trees breaking right below me. There was two bull moose! The first one ran to the north and I soon lost sight of him but the other bull decided to run straight away. I realized if I didn’t do some-
thing quick this bull wasn’t going to stop and most likely not offer me a shot. I flipped open the scope covers and let out a desperate attempt at a bull moose grunt and to my surprise the bull stopped and turned quartering looking back at me. I immediately knew what I was looking at; those double shovels would never be erased from my memory. There he stood, the bull of our dreams! I shouldered my rifle and settled the crosshairs tight behind the bull’s shoulder and firmly squeezed the trigger on my Tikka 270WSM. At the report of my rifle the bull merely flinched and crested a hill to where I could no longer see him. The shot was around 150 yards and free hand but it felt and sounded good! I ran to the hill where I had lost sight of him, as I crested the hill I noticed the bull again trotting away from me. I again shoulder my rifle and sent another bullet on its way. The bull took two more steps and faltered to the ground. As I was closing the distance I was vibrating! Could this actually be happening? Had I just shot what I believed to be the biggest moose I had ever seen? I yelled out, “Big Bull Down” and dad yelled back, “how big?” He hadn’t seen him from his cut line. I responded, “Its Double Shovel and he’s huge!” In no time dad was there by my side. He just walked over and gave me a huge hug and said, “Good job! That’s him, that’s the one we were after.” It’s a moment I will never forget. We accomplished what was nearly impossible and ended a five year quest. I’m pretty sure we both shed a tear or two that very moment. After all the celebration, the work soon began. Darkness now over took the little light we had to work with. We field dressed him and both decided we could leave him over night and come back for him bright and early in the morning as we were still a fair distance to any access for the truck. Dad showed me one of his old tricks using spruce bows and some of our clothing to keep the predators in the area away over night until our return in the am. It was a little bit of a restless night for I feared the
predators would still get at him even with all our efforts to deter them. In the morning we jumped in my Polaris Ranger and headed to where the bull lay and much to my surprise, dads old trick worked, the predators had stayed clear of our trophy. We took pictures, quartered him up and got him back to the farm safe and sound. Our giant bull stretch the tapes, his spread was 52 2/8 wide with 15 points on one side and 14 on the other. His gross score using the Boone and Crockett scoring method is 191 5/8” and he netted right at 186 4/8”. I would like to thank my dad for giving me the opportunity to hunt such a magnificent bull alongside him and teaching me the skills of hunting in general. It’s something I will never really be able to repay him for! I would also like to thank my wife for having patience with me during my hunting endeavors each and every year, And thanks to my cousin Shelly for taking pictures and helping dad and I get the old brute out of the bush and back home. This was truly a hunt of a lifetime for me! THANKYOU DAD! I can’t wait to see old “DOUBLE SHOVEL” on the wall .
Shayna Hamilton from Estevan, Saskatchewan with the big 7x7 bull elk she toppled near the end of the 2013 season. The season was coming down to the last couple days when she made the fateful decision to go out hunting alone to maximize her time in the field. Its a good thing she did!
Just Do It! BY: SHAYNA HAMILTON
E
lk hunting is something that any hunter dreams of doing no matter what age, experience, or gender. The allure of these majestic creatures has been on my bucket list from the beginning. I thought that by the time I was thirty, I would be lucky enough to be drawn for elk. You can imagine my surprise when the results for the 2013 draw were posted and my name showed up for an either-sex elk tag for one of my highest priority areas! I will admit that some high pitched screams and jumping around the room had followed after the good news. Being a first time elk hunter, I was by no means expecting a 300 inch bull. Although I was stubborn enough to know if I had it my way, I was not going to shoot a cow or a spike bull unless it was the last day of the season.
The very first morning we went out, we spotted a lone animal deep in the fog. Anticipation killed me as it was still too dark to identify or make a move on the unidentifiable animal. Time seemed to move in slow motion as the sun crept closer to the horizon. Between my muzzleloader and Dad’s rifle, I was sure we would be shoulder deep inside an elk before lunch, but as all great hunts go there is always some failure. It came down to a “now or never” situation, and unfortunately, the result was not a desired one. A little miscommunication can go a long way in a father-daughter team especially when a small 5x5 bull is in front of them! We missed, and the elk returned to his herd. We hunted every weekend, and weeks passed and hours in
the field lengthened, my high hopes began to dwindle. The draw season was quickly coming to a close. To make matters worse, my father was on call on the next Friday and Saturday, which would mean we would only get to hunt on Sunday. I would miss two days of hunting, but that all changed with the realization that I could hunt by myself. I had never hunted by myself, but I knew the area quite well. I had mixed feelings when I thought of being alone. I won’t lie; being a small female in the dark, surrounded by trees, made me nervous, and even a little scared. Then doubt set in and I wondered if I could even accomplish a hunt by myself. It all came down to the fact that I wanted to go hunting. A quick call to my Dad to ask his opinion sealed my decision. That was it, the plan was made and on September 20, I was going alone! Since the hunting gear was already packed all I had to do was load the truck and head out after school. It is just over an hour’s drive from home to our elk hunting grounds, and I was going to be pressed for time. I did not even stop at our cabin to grab supper. When I got to the parking spot I changed and jumped out of the truck. Then my mood changed drastically. The wind was blowing in the opposite direction for what I needed to sit in the stands. This was something I never had to account for. I was in charge of the gear and Dad would take care of the wind, food, and calling. I did what I do best when there is a problem; I called Dad. After a quick discussion it was decided that I would walk a route I knew well to a river four miles from where I stood. The Google Map app on my phone would allow me to track how far away I was from the river, and to keep me from getting lost. I took a deep breath and started walking. It was 5:00 pm. The first mile was a canopied path with cut lines every quarter mile running north. It was so beautiful that I stopped and took a picture. I approached the first cut line with caution, gave out a couple chirps, and waited a few minutes before I continued on. Every cut line I approached I chirped several times until I reached a swathed canola field. I was startled when I looked to the side and saw a racoon about thirty yards away. I was
not expecting to come across something so soon, and it was probably a good thing because I became more focused. All I was thinking about was reaching the river. During the walk across the field, I stopped short as I noticed some elk tracks in the mud. I could not tell how fresh they were, but I knew it was from after the rain that fell that morning. My eyes were on the ground as I followed each print; my attention was now on the hunt. Not five steps later, something in my mind caused me to look up… My heart almost stopped. There, illuminated by the setting sun, was a huge bull standing only 80 yards away! I froze. Then I thought “Crap! My gun is slung over my head and around my back”. I was in the open with no cover and had to somehow maneuver the gun over my head, without spooking the elk. The entire process of spotting him and pulling the trigger took less than three minutes, but it felt closer to thirty! Tentatively, I reached back and took off the safety; I had already loaded my rifle. After the echoing click, I slowly slipped the sling up so the gun was now hanging off my back and around my neck. The whole time my eyes were trained on the bull, waiting for any indication that it was about to bolt. I was close enough to see the condensation form on his whiskers. With one hand on the gun and one on the strap; I swung my .270 around so it was on the right side of my body. I had been able to conceal all of these movements and kept most of the movement between my body and the line of sight of the bull. I would now have to change my outline. I figured as soon as I did, the bull would begin to run. Taking one last deep breath, in one movement I lifted the strap over my head while raising the gun to my shoulder. I rapidly switched the positions of my hands and found the elk in my sights, and then I exhaled. Nothing. The bull had not moved a muscle! I allowed myself to relax before I realized my next challenge; the bull was facing me. I could not see anything more than antlers, neck, shoulders, and front legs. I still consider myself to be a fairly new hunter and I do not like taking any shots that are on the move or more than a slight quartering shoot. Because of that, my first reaction was to make him turn. I daringly took my hand off the trigger and reached down to my cow call and brought it to my lips. Nerves got the best of me as I let out a call that
closely resemble a dying cat. Not my best effort, so I dropped the call and aligned on my target, thinking in my mind, “Turn! Just turn!”, but I realized that if the bull was going to move now, it would be in a dead run. I made what I believed was the ethical decision. Given the close range, I believed that I could make a much better shot placement with the bull facing me than I would if he was on the run. I decided to pull the trigger and when the bull turned his head slightly I took a slow deep breath, put the crosshairs on the centre left of his chest, and squeezed. My jaw dropped when I saw the bull stagger and turn; he was obviously hit very hard and I was satisfied that my shot had hit the mark, but when the bull ran over the hill, I sprinted in full gear over the crest to catch up to him. My father and I share a little saying when hunting elk with rifles and that is, “shoot them till they fall.” While on the top of the hill I put another shell in the chamber and brought the gun up. Squinting because of the sunlight, I fired another shot. I did not have to look to know I had missed, completely. Three more running strides down the hill, and now out of the sun, I brought the gun up on the now stationary, but swaying bull and fired a final shot that connected as he fell to the ground. As soon as the bull expired I collapsed too and tears flooded my eyes. I did it. I actually did it. An exasperated giggle slipped out as the reality started to sink in and then I stood up and cheered excitedly. I then realized that I had to call my parents; I sent a quick text to my best friend saying “BBD” or big bull down, and then attempted to dial the right number six or seven times until my shaky fingers final contacted all the right keys. The click let me know someone had answered. I did not even wait for a greeting I just said, “I just shot a monster! Oh my gosh!” still laughing and crying. It took about ten minutes to relay my location, enjoy the congratulations from both mom and dad and figure out when they would arrive to help me retrieve the bull. Knowing my family was on the way, I put my tag on the antler and sat just looking at the beautiful animal that I had taken. As the sun continually dipped lower and lower, I realized that on their own, my family would not be able to find me without my help, so I hurried back to the truck, changed into some warmer clothes, and waited for them to join me. When my Dad, Mom, younger brother, and best friend showed up I led them on the quads to my elk. Handshakes and hugs were all exchanged, then field photos were taken and the hard work began. Once we finally got the elk loaded, we headed out. We only made it half way across the field before the trailer took an unfortunate turn and not only dumped my elk on the ground but flattened the tire and forced it off the rim. After some arguing and a lot of strategizing, we final got the elk out of the bush. Next, it was a short drive over to the butcher’s shop, and then another hour and a half to drive back home. It was 2:30am before I crawled into bed. This was an incredible, empowering experience that I will never forget. Now, I will challenge myself to pursue the hunts I never thought possible,
and I will also challenge any other young girls or women to give hunting by yourself a try. Although, it never hurts to have a backup team ready to help for the haul out.
B
eing new to parenting, I hadn’t found myself with a lot of free time over the summer to get out spotting. When the chance finally came, shortly before the approaching archery season, I called my cousin BJ to ask if he would join me. After a quick discussion, we agreed on a spot where I had previously harvested a 224” non-typical in velvet. Headed to our destination, we briefly stopped at a couple of other vantage points to glass the areas. Once we arrived, it didn’t take long to spot deer moving around. Since BJ was glassing a side hill with his binoculars, he asked me to take a better look at a deer with my spotting scope. I brought the scope to my window and attempted to find the deer BJ had mentioned. As I was panning across the coulee, I located what looked to be an above average mule deer buck with stickers. After mentioning to BJ where this buck was, we realized that we were looking at different deer. We decided there was enough daylight to get a closer look, and possibly some video. Moving to a better vantage point, we set up the tripod and spotting scope. After locating him again, we knew this was where we’d be on opening day. Our first impression of this deer was he had a great typical frame with several clusters of stickers! With the daylight fading, we decided to risk getting close enough to capture him on camera. Despite the attempt, he evaded us for the remainder of the evening. The following morning, we set up at the same spot in an attempt to get to know his routine. We located him immediately in the wheat field on the opposite side of the coulee. After watching him for an hour, he moved out of the field and headed into a draw I was familiar with. Quickly discussing the situation, we agreed that I would attempt to get this brute on video. I changed, grabbed the video camera, checked the wind, and headed out. My second attempt to catch him on camera fell flat, but luckily BJ was able to capture him on video that night. We continued to watch him each morning and every night to ensure he had not decided to leave the area. After the first week it was as if
Teamwork riumphs T WRITTEN BY: BJ HUNT AS TOLD BY: JUSTIN LOUMA
Justin Louma’s 2013 mule deer is impressive no matter how you look at it. Start off with velvet in perfect condition, then add a gross typical frame of 201 3/8” and 32 3/8” of abnormal points. G-2s of 15 3/8” and 16”, G-3s of 12 1/8” and 11 3/8” and G-4s of 14 2/8” and 12 6/8”, along with an inside spread of 23 5/8”, create an incredibly impressive frame. The result is a final net non-typical score of 229 2/8”.
he knew we were watching him. His pattern changed to the point that he was no longer alone as he slept throughout the day. His preferred bedding area went from the draws within the coulee, to the standing wheat field above. Knowing that several tags were to be filled during the following weeks, one of us watched intently while the other went in search of another trophy. Despite the hours spent and distances traveled, neither of us was successful in finding a suitable “backup” deer. With time running short, and a true giant within reach, I decided to get serious with my target shooting. The problem with getting serious this late in the season is that I had one day prior to opening morning to test my abilities. Having shot this bow for several years quite successfully, I was quickly on target out to 60 yards and beyond. With a new batch of confidence seen this deer bedded. We had been using a slight crosswind to and nightfall approaching, I headed home to prepare for what cover our scent during the approach, which would eventually may come the following morning. carry our scent to him as we snuck passed. After watching him An early morning start had BJ, Sasha, and I awaiting day- bed back down several minutes later, we decided to head out light alongside what had become a very familiar fence line. knowing the wind was no longer in our favor. With the sun slowly coming up, we found him walking from After a demoralizing first stalk, we began working on a plan the hay flat back into the wheat field he had bedded the night for the afternoon. Several DVDs later we agreed that I was prior. To our dismay, before reaching the field, fog started to going to enter the field to watch as they left to feed for the settle in. We had lost him as quickly as we had found him mere evening. I found myself on the same ridge I had been on earliminutes before. The next few hours were spent waiting for the er that morning with my spotting scope and tripod. He stood fog to dissipate. As we waited, I decided to send a text to my not long after I set up and milled around the standing crop. dad and brother, Jasen. They had already located the typical I took the opportunity to snap a few pictures with my phone they had planned on stalking and were heading into town for through the spotting scope. When he appeared to have had breakfast. Soon after setting down my phone, I noticed the fog his fill he bedded again in amongst the other deer. As daylight starting to lift. Finally we were able to catch a glimpse of his started to fade, he stood to work his way towards the hay field rack as he stood to reposition himself in the field. I knew that he routinely fed. On my walk back to the truck from the field we wouldn’t be able to pinpoint his location from our current I received a phone call from BJ. He had just heard from Jasen vantage point, so I moved across the coulee. As BJ kept his eyes that Dad had put a 200” typical on the ground. As per usual on the deer, I put on my camouflage and “lucky blue shoes”. I after a deer hits the ground, we met up at Randy’s (BJ’s father) carefully made my way to a ridgeline within the field he oc- shop for a recap of the day’s events. After a brief celebration cupied alongside seven other bucks. I was able to set up my and storytelling, I knew it was time to head home and prepare tripod and watch as he milled through the sprayer tracks. Soon for day two. after he bedded down, I called BJ and Sasha, asking them to The next morning we met in our usual spot to wait for daymeet me at my truck as I headed there myself. After we all ar- light once again. As the sun rose Sasha located him beyond rived, the plotting commenced for the best route back to where the wheat field feeding in lentils. I decided to make my way I had seen him bed. As BJ and I put our plan into action, Sasha back across into the wheat in hopes of watching him bed down moved back to the opposite side to patiently oversee what was about to unfold. Justin has also taken some very Soon my “lucky blue shoes” and I were impressive mule deer in previous heading along a fence line, BJ in tow. After years. several hundred yards we reached the point where the fence would no longer be needed. We found ourselves in sprayer tracks, leading to where I had last seen him lay down. As we closed the distance to within a couple hundred yards, we decided to drop our packs before continuing on. We slowly worked our way to within 150 yards of our prey, but to my surprise, a younger mule deer buck stood up a mere 40 yards to our left. Knowing that any sudden movement would cause our stalk to come to an early end, we held tight. During our initial game plan I hadn’t
once again. As I was in route to the opposite side, BJ called to confirm it was indeed him working his way to his habitual bedding area. Before arriving, I was able to spot him working his way into the field not far from where I was about to start my walk. As I moved into the field, he distanced himself from the other bucks, just before bedding down for the morning. I texted BJ to let him know I had pinpointed his location, and to join me in our second stalk together. Just after BJ had started to make his way over, a doe and fawn came from the left, passing by within twenty yards only to bed down directly behind me. I knew at this point I was no longer able to meet BJ, and he wouldn’t be able to enter the field. As I grabbed my phone to inform BJ, two more bucks bedded to the right of me. Having watched him bed on the same sprayer track I was currently in, I decided to begin my stalk. As I closed the distance to within 200 yards, I once again set down my pack, cell, and removed my shoes. I then cautiously continued to sneak within bow range, very slowly to remain undetected. As I approached the spot I had last seen him, I could see antler tips at thirty yards. At this point, I couldn’t be certain it was him as his stickers were hidden behind wheat from my angle. I waited for some time before deciding that my best opportunity would be to stand, draw my bow and slowly move towards him. From my point of view he would be able to pinpoint me before I could draw if I allowed him to stand at his leisure. As I stood to draw back my bow, he too decided to stand for a stretch. As we locked eyes I made a devastating mistake by dropping to my knees to draw instead of continuing my draw while standing. It was apparent that he knew something was out of the ordinary, as he cautiously worked his way in my direction. While making his way towards me I contemplated whether to stand and shoot, or slowly move my bow through the field towards him. As he closed the distance to within fifteen yards, I remained kneeling and slowly moved to acquire my target. Just as I was about to settle in for my shot, he noticed movement and bolted towards the coulee. It wasn’t until I had him within range that I was able to appreciate, truly appreciate, his stature, which made the defeat that much worse! I quickly ran towards my phone to ensure BJ was able to locate him again. As he answered the phone he immediately asked if it was over. I told him to get his eyes on the draws to see where he had gone. From where BJ had set up a slight ridge had blocked his view of my entire encounter. Knowing that we had all lost visual, I started my way to the edge of the coulee. I trailed him back to the original draw I had
intended on recording him a couple weeks prior. As I crested the top of the draw I could see that Jasen had arrived and was glassing the hills. I decided to make my way back to my truck and meet up to see if they had found him once again. Halfway back I received a phone call from BJ stating they had pinpointed him in the creek below. My pace had quickened knowing that another opportunity may present itself. I reached my truck and began the drive to the opposite side of the coulee where everyone was waiting. When I arrived and stepped out, I noticed the right rear tire had sprung a leak and was now flat. Strike two in under an hour! I grabbed my jack and spare, getting to work as BJ, Jasen, and Sasha monitored his location. As I removed the flat tire and turned my back to set it down, my jack failed and I heard my brake rotor contact the gravel. Strike three! At this point, I was beyond frustrated, and contemplated calling it a day. As I used Jasen’s jack to lift my truck once again and install a fresh spare, BJ came up the hill. Having blown my solo opportunity, I told him that it was his turn to attempt a stalk. Not willing to go in alone when a second bow was available, a discussion ensued. After several minutes, he was finally able to convince me to put my camo back on. As we headed towards the creek, our plan changed from waiting for him to stand, to forcing his move once again. Having been spooked already that morning the likelihood of him moving to the field during the daylight was slim. Knowing that the wind wasn’t going to be on our side throughout the entire stalk, we kept low in the creek to limit our scent plume. As we neared the corner of the creek, I glassed the brush to see if he had moved during the stalk. I immediately saw the tips of his main beams protruding through the brush. Having him within 60 yards, BJ went ahead in an attempt to get on top of him. He then slowly worked his way back on top of the creek and followed the edge towards where the deer was bedded. As the distance closed, I could see his horns suddenly
stop all movement. I drew back in anticipation of him standing as BJ tried to get him within line of sight. BJ noticed that I had drawn and immediately drew back and walked towards the edge of the creek. The deer stood up on an upward angle slightly quartering to the right and I settled my 50 yard pin between his shoulders. After waiting for BJ to release his arrow, I let loose knowing he wouldn’t be still much longer. As my arrow hit, I could hear BJ’s pass through him and into the creek below. He bolted, running alongside the creek towards a deep embankment. I ran over to BJ and we waited to see if the deer was able to make the corner ahead. After a brief moment I looked back to see Jasen running down the draw with his arms in the air, and Sasha running to the truck. Immediately, I dropped my bow, as did BJ, and we started to celebrate. We then awaited the arrival of Jasen and Sasha before attempting to recover our downed deer. As we all moved in together it was apparent he wouldn’t be far. I kept low towards the creek as BJ moved in along the top. Within 70 yards of
where the arrows had hit their mark, laid the biggest mule deer I have ever laid my hands on. Believing that BJ had placed the better arrow prior to walking up, I immediately told him to grab his horns and show him off. As he lifted the deer’s head he started to question our shot placement, trying to decipher who had the fatal shot. After closer examination, rolling him onto his stomach, it was apparent that I had released the killing arrow. Several cameras, and hundreds of photos later, Jasen, Sasha, and I jumped into the creek for a much needed cool down. Soon after, we found ourselves back at Randy’s shop, hanging more meat in the walk-in cooler. As we brought his horns into the heated Quonset, I found myself in disbelief. Dad and I had both arrowed a 200” frame deer in the first 36 hours of the season. It fills me with pride knowing I have been taught by one of the best. As the night drew to an end, I went home happy that I’d filled my tag. In the true spirit of teamwork, I looked forward to the week ahead helping family and friends fill their tags.
BY: BRANDON CARTER Brandon Carter with the absolute giant 6x6 typical whitetail he harvested during the 2013/2014 season in southern Iowa. The browtines are truly exceptional on the buck, as is the typical frame. The tines are all bladed and have a characteristic wave to them, giving the rack a truly spectacular look. The monster buck had everything needed to score high and ended up with an unofficial gross score of 197 1/8�.
T
he 2012 hunting season was one of the toughest years of hunting whitetails I had ever seen. EHD outbreaks across the Midwest during the drought plagued summer had reduced buck numbers significantly. On top of the reduced numbers, weather conditions were not favorable for daytime movement or rut activity. With the hunting being as tough as it was, a hunter really had to make EVERY encounter count. And that’s where luck came in. I had coyotes spook a 180 class buck in Iowa, my rangefinder wouldn’t read on a 160 class buck in the same state. In Kansas I had a 170” buck come in perfectly then burst into full sprint across my opening to chase a nearby doe. To make matters worse, he came back in three more times and did the same exact thing. Then, as light is fading, he charges in and then beds down under my tree, leaving me trapped in the stand until 9:30pm! That’s just a sample of the things we encountered while filming season 4 of Reel Shot TV. My wife Jodie and I ended last season on a late season hunt with Sunfish Valley Whitetails in southern Ohio. Ironically we were hunting a buck named Lucky! He was a gorgeous 180” 6x6 that had been missed by numerous hunters. Working with guide Andrew Wilburn, we established a pattern and moved in to hunt. On the first afternoon in the stand we hung to hunt Lucky, we encountered him. However, he would live up to his name as the wind swirled when he was at about 65 yards, letting him know there were hunters in the area. For the length of our hunt he just teased us, showing up on trail camera when we were not in the stand, but he was no show when we were in the stand. I was really looking forward to the 2013/14 deer season after all the hard luck Jodie and I had the previous year. Unfortunately for us, last year was only the beginning of the run of bad luck. Deer sightings were down and mature buck encounters were near zero. Jodie managed to take a 150” ten point in Kansas. I didn’t fill my Kansas tag, but Jodie’s harvest was a change of my luck that we needed. We flip flopped back and forth on hunts, so with Jodie’s kill in Kansas, I was back in front of the camera and a return to Sunfish Valley Whitetails was on the schedule next! Our late season hunt this year was to take place after we at-
tended the ATA (Archery Trade Association) show in Nashville. At this late point of the season a buck can shed his antlers literally any day. Shedding is often times triggered during harsh climatic changes or any kind of stress a buck may sense. While we were at the ATA show, most of the country was experiencing EXTREME winter weather with record lows being recorded. I was worried the bucks would be dropping their antlers like an October White Oak. If the thoughts of shedding bucks wasn’t enough, Andrew began sending me pictures of the “Brow Tine Buck”. I had seen pictures of this buck before, for several years in fact, but did not know if he was still around….or antlerless. I wanted to be optimistic in my view of hunting this world class buck, but I just couldn’t help but to be nervous. “Would he shed? Would he go nocturnal? Would the wind swirl on me once again?” were the questions running through my head each day before I arrived to camp. Upon arriving at Sunfish Valley headquarters I was greeted by my old friend and guide, Andrew. He had not captured any pictures of the brow tine buck since before the late muzzleloader season which had just ended. To compound the situation a few pictures of a shed buck in the same area worried us that it was him. However, Andrew wasn’t phased. He believed the buck was still carrying his rack and we needed to put some cameras a few ridges over and we would find him. I’m a pretty independent hunter and like to just “do my thing”, but I know not to “guide the guide”. I’ve developed a lot of trust in Andrew and he respects my input as well. We work together really well so it was no surprise when we both agreed on where to set up the first string of cameras. Normally we would let the cameras “soak” for a few days before checking them, but since we were somewhat running against the clock we decided to check them after only one day and night. I was relieved and excited when our giant was on the camera the very first night. We immediately setup and decided to sit for the buck as soon as we had a consistent and favorable wind. After several days, we had not seen a deer but the Brow Tine Buck was on camera EVERY night, just after last shooting light all the way up until first light in the mornings. Almost any time when hunting a buck focused on feeding, we hunt afternoons only as to not blow the deer out on a morning stand
approach. We were playing this game to perfection but just could not get this mature buck to daylight. One night about 5 or 6 days into the hunt, I decided that it was time to “move in” on this buck or we would never harvest him. Apparently great minds do think alike because that night Andrew met us at our cabin with a topographical map and let me know it was time to move in on this buck. We examined the topo map and discussed the angle in which the buck always approached the camera and departed. All signs pointed to the buck using a finger ridge that would lead the buck from the thickest and most rugged terrain in the area right down to the location where we had now gotten hundreds of trail camera pictures of him. That night we received a really nice blanket of snow which we felt would really help us. The snow allowed us to back track the Brow Tine Buck as he went back to his bed for the day. Just as we suspected, his trail lead us right up the point of the finger ridge we had identified as his staging area. Right about the time we felt that we had pushed as deep into the timber as possible without the risk of jumping the buck, we came across the perfect tree for our stand. The tree was a large cedar tree which would give us lots of cover, and cover the entire ridge with a bow. The wind was prevailing out of the west and that would hit us right in the face at the stand site. It was the perfect set up so we hung our stands and for the first time I truly felt we could harvest this buck. The forecast for the next several days was to be brutal with high temps in the 20’s and waves of snowfall nearly every day. This was the kind of weather that could do two things, make the deer hungry and prompt them to shed their antlers. The Brow Tine Buck had held his rack up until this point so we were hopeful that he would be hungry and make a move with enough light for a shot. With the use of our heavy layers of clothing, Jodie and I
braved the elements on that frigid ridge for several days….and never saw a deer! At this point I was giving up hope quickly. We had been on this buck for over a week and had only seen three deer total. Late season hunting can be very hit and miss, and I knew this going in. At any point we could have abandoned the hunt for “Brows” and moved to other areas with more deer, but we were focused on this buck, he was the kind of deer that could turn our entire season around. On the morning of January 19, Jodie and I decided to check the cameras one last time. If he was on the ridge camera where we had moved to, we would continue to hunt. If not, we were packing up and heading back home to Louisiana. On our way in we decided to check the original camera spot. We were discouraged to find that the card had filled up a few days prior so we had no way of knowing if our buck was still coming, or if he was holding his antlers. Up to this point the ridge camera had never captured his presence, but we knew he just had to be traveling there. As we approached the ridge camera we were greeted with a big set of fresh tracks in the snow. I was even more anxious to see if the camera had captured him traveling the ridge that morning. Sure enough, the last deer to walk past the camera that morning was the Brow Tine Buck! For the first time in nearly a week the skies cleared and high pressure moved in. Highs were hovering in the upper 20’s to low 30’s and it just felt good for a change. I knew that this was the day. If he didn’t show up today, he likely never would. We got changed and back in the stand by 1pm. At 3pm a button buck came out from where we thought Brows was and meandered by us. Then at about 4pm three does trickled by. This was by far the best action we had seen since starting our hunt. Our optimism was increasing, but you just never know when your dealing with a mature whitetail buck, they are just a different breed of animal.
At about 5:15pm I caught a glimpse of movement about 200 yards up the ridge. Just in that quick glimpse I felt like it was a buck by its posture and motion. Grabbing my binoculars, it took me nearly 10 minutes to spot him again, but there was no doubt, it was HIM! We still had quite a bit of daylight left but he didn’t seem to be moving, instead he appeared to just be “hiding” behind the trees and staging up before committing to coming all the way down the ridge. As I waited, it just kept getting darker and darker. Every couple of minutes Jodie would give me an update on available camera light. This buck was not just going to give up; he stayed out of sight the entire time. I was worried that perhaps he had seen us move or caught a swirl of scent and turned back. Sunset was 5:40 with legal shooting light ending at 6:10pm. However, it would be too dark a little sooner for us because we were in heavy timber and under the cover of a thickly branched cedar tree. To compound matters further, we run out of camera light about 15 minutes earier. The clock was ticking and this buck just wouldn’t show himself. Finally at about 5:50pm Jodie let me know that the camera was reading 0% light. Still having not seen the buck in about 45 minutes, I accepted defeat and instructed her to start breaking down the camera gear and prepare to climb down. I turned in my stand to un-nock my arrow and start packing up when I saw him! He was at about 40 yards and on a SLOW walk down the edge of the ridge to my right. Jodie had already started to lower the camera and I told her to just stay put and don’t move.
We weren’t going to get this on camera but there was no way we could possibly just let a possible 200” buck just walk by. In that instant, I transitioned from producer to hunter and grabbed my bow. At 25 yards he turned and crossed the ridge right in front of us. This would put him in my shooting lane at 23 yards with a slight quarter away. Finally after nearly two years of the worst luck and toughest hunting imaginable I was about to get a shot at the buck of a lifetime! He followed the script perfectly and as he passed behind a tree as I drew back. Brows entered my opening at 24 yards and then just stopped. I scanned to double check for branches in my way, held the pin just forward of mid body and released. The arrow penetrated almost to the fletchings and he disappeared over the ridge and loped back in the direction he had came from. I knew what I had seen, but I turned to confirm with Jodie. She confirmed, the shot was about 10” behind the shoulder, which is where I had aimed due to his quartering away, but it was a bit low. Since we didn’t see or hear the buck go down we slipped out of the stand and off the ridge as quietly as possible. Back at the cabin, Andrew met us, along with Matt and Brock Brewster, the owners of Sunfish Valley Whitetails. After talking it over, everyone felt the shot was fatal but we were not going to be in a rush to go after him. Up until this point I had not felt one bit of nervousness, anxiousness or even excite-
ment. It was now about two hours after the shot, and it hit me! I started to shake just a bit, my stomach began to knot and I got very anxious and fidgety. We waited about another hour, likely the longest hour of my life and decided to go up on the ridge and see what kind of blood trail we had before committing to tracking him. Andrews’s brother Anthony had joined us as their father Mr. Homer Wilburn had passed away the day before and they both just needed to get their minds on something else. Almost immediately Anthony found blood. I wasn’t a tremendous amount of blood but it was sprayed two feet from the buck’s tracks which would indicate that something major was severed like the heart or an artery. We decided this was definitely a fatal shot and we should take up the blood trail. After a half mile I began to doubt the shot and think we needed to pull out and wait until morning. Andrew reassured me the buck was dead as we had not gone ten feet during the tracking without blood sprayed all over the snow. We pushed on for about another ¼ mile when we finally came across a few puddles of blood which told us the buck had finally stopped. We could feel that he was close. We were almost on top of the thickest nastiest hill in the whole area. We stopped for a few minutes just catch our breath and strategize. Thankfully the only strategy we needed to think about was getting this giant off the hill because as Andrew flipped on
his light to continue the trail the Brow Tine Buck was RIGHT THERE! Andrew yelled out in that southern Ohio drawl, “There he lays!” We all ran over to him and fell to the ground in hugs next to the buck. This was the end to the worst streak in my hunting life. For Andrew and his brother it meant even more, it meant making their late father proud. Mr. Homer was an avid hunter and Andrew would show him trail camera pictures of the Brow Tine Buck. Up until his last days of battling cancer he would ask Andrew if we had got the buck yet. He would always tell Andrew, don’t give up, you’ll get him. Mr. Homer Wilburn was right, we never gave up, we hunted hard and we hunted smart. This buck was well known throughout the community and amongst all the Sunfish Valley guides. We pieced together every little bit of information we could gather on this tremendous animal from everyone. This hunt was a true team effort by everyone involved with Sunfish Valley Whitetails and Reel Shot TV. Harvesting a buck of this size and under these circumstances means much more to me than any “score” could ever indicate. However, everyone was anxious to find out just how big this giant was and how he would rank against other bucks killed in the area. The next morning we finally got around to measuring him and came up with an unofficial score of 197 1/8”! A true giant by ANYONE’S measure!
BY: KAARE GUNDERSON
W
hen first contacted by BGI to be a regular contributor, many thoughts crossed my mind. “What if people didn’t enjoy reading my thoughts?” It’s a bit scary to be asked to regularly share ideas and personal things about hunting whitetails. It’d be embarrassing if they were not overly well received. “My kids would think it awfully cool,” I thought. For that I was right, it appears as though to them, it is a bit of a nifty thing that their dad was well enough thought of in terms of hunting, that he had been asked by a great publication to share ideas with readers. “People are going to make snide remarks.” Unfortunately there have been a couple but they have been in short supply in comparison to positive ones. “I will have a fan”, was certainly not one of my thoughts but it so appears that I have one. It isn’t one many would expect, a hunter or a subscriber to this magazine. Instead, it is my wife’s grandmother, Dode. As far as I have learned, she had no idea that I was a regular contributor until one day, while at a location in the town of Biggar, she picked up the magazine and began to skim through it. Low and behold, there was her favourite grandson in law, tied for that title of course with Steven. It is exciting reading them she told me. So, one day, while deciding what I could discuss in this article it hit me, I’d write my “Ode to Dode.” It’d read in one of three ways. To the serious hunter it’d be like, “Yeah, I’ve been there, seen that.” To the new hunter, maybe they’d learn a wee bit more about what hunting is all about. And to Dode, it’d be more like a memoir that would give her a glimpse into this one road in my life that has been such an important chapter in my life. As a hunter, it’s easy to not give enough credit to the virtues of your own craft but given the time to reflect it is easy to see what they are. For those that may not have ever hunted, they may not even know just what those virtues are. “Would Dode?”, I wondered. Would she understand that in the time I’ve spent hunting
whitetails I’ve been fortunate enough to learn more about nature than most non hunters ever would? Would she know that the majority of hunters would have a far greater appreciation for nature and it’s wonder and beauty than those who do not? Not until you truly become immersed in it do you begin to understand nature and its complexity. I hunt because I love nature, and especially whitetail deer. Because of this passion, I’ve sat close enough to see tear ducts on a whitetail doe just prior to being immensely startled when she blew that sound that only us who have been there and have heard it can comprehend. Even when you know it is coming, it always seems to take you so suddenly. “FFFFEEWWWWW” “FFFFEEWWWWW”. I’ve watched a pecking order of social rank unfold as a dominant doe gave the beat down to a subordinate one as she stood on her hind legs and flogged the other with her front hooves. I have watched a brilliant sun come up and bring life to a new day just ahead of having groups of bucks walk off of fields so close to me that I could see the frost on their antlers and view the steam ascend from their backs. I’ve seen packs of coyotes methodically pick their way through a field of deer, seeking an opportunity. I’ve seen those same deer chase those same coyotes off with small charges and stomping. But I’ve seen the other side too; the flank tore right off a doe that the coyotes clearly were in the process of attempting to feed upon before for I stumbled upon the scene. I’ve seen moose eating lily pads out of the river. I’ve had owls attack mice just mere metres away. I’ve sat in a tree while the rain fell upon a river below and watched a family of beavers try to repair a dam. I have happened upon porcupines that always, and I mean always, keep their back end to you. I’ve observed much that I have enjoyed that were not deer, while I was hunting deer. But I do enjoy the deer. I have been fortunate enough to watch the summer sun set over an alfalfa field full of bucks wearing their velvet antlers like a crown, feeding like best of friends. And I have watched those same bucks rub the velvet clean from their antlers prior to the month long stretch of sparring with each other and rubbing their fighting bones against trees, building strength, practicing for that stretch where they will attempt to hurt and kill each other, the rut. I have watched them tear great mounds of earth up with their front hooves, then stand in that fresh earth and urinate on their own hocks right down into it while rubbing their facial glands against and chewing on the branches that are above that spot they have chosen. That spot Dode, it is called a scrape, and they are a fantastic place to hang trail cameras. Anyways, I have seen many different animal behaviours and beautiful scenes, as has any serious hunter. They are not always the same, but in their own right, special moments in time forever etched into memory. We owe these great moments to nature
Dode, and our love of the hunt is what leads us out there. Would she be aware of the many positive attributes of the hunting lifestyle? It is just flat out a healthy activity. It can be exceptional exercise. I walk hundreds of miles a year in some whitetail related endeavour. Hunting has an unfortunate label as being something done from the grid road and a truck. This is not always the case. Many hunters like myself, get much good exercise via foot in pursuing game. For me it may be walking to and from trail camera, I will be sneaking in and out of hunting areas and with certainty I will be scouring the snowy, frigid landscape in snowshoes during the dead of winter, seeking a highly coveted for my collection, shed antler. Best of all, all of those miles are spent outside, the healthiest place there is. If I mentioned shed antlers Dode, it is because I love looking for them in winter. Finding them can provide information about a buck and sheds allow you to chronicle individual deer from year to year. To me they are beautiful and I love my collection of Natures art. I am not sure if it is a sickness or a gift but my kids can quickly determine if an antler I drag home has a match in the basement or if previous years sheds are in a pile somewhere. Sickness or gift, it is inheritable. But back to speaking of health, food wise, it is healthy. Lean, organic protein right there for my harvest for the low price of a $38 tag. I know each year that I am providing my family with healthy meat and I will have been there for the whole process, responsible for it all. From the taking of the life of the animal that will provide my family with food, to properly dressing it before I clean cut and wrap it, I will do it all. I will not lie, it is a job that makes me feel a bit more like a man that folding laundry does. As a family, we devour the jerky I make and my kids simply enjoy chowing down on some buck meat! Think your pickles and how you enjoy eating them and seeing them fly off your table at a sale. It is rewarding isn’t it? Exercise, tasty healthy meat and the outside air, the benefits are huge! Lastly, would Dode know the emotional rollercoaster that hunting can be? An activity with extreme highs and lows too, always seeming a balance, swinging back and forth. A pursuit filled with devastating and humbling mistakes and hugely rewarding successes. Like each new sunrise from the field, it is the never ending chasing of a dream. Each hunt beginning simply reignites the fire for what could be. I have had many days where I thought it would be. I have had that adrenalin rush take over as the buck I was after comes walking right towards my treestand, one I had hung that very morning after spending a week scouting his movements as he entered an alfalfa field to feed. I have also felt that adrenaline simply drop to the pit of my stomach in a ball of sickness as that same buck bounded back into the safety of the forest after I had blown the chance I had worked so hard to get. I have stood holding my bow by my side as the buck I had hunted for three months, pursued a doe by my spot at ten feet, grunting like a pig but not even slowing down nor glancing my way as I attempted to stop him by grunting and eventually yelling. It was a pure adrenaline rush of excitement in the beginning and heartbreaking in the end. He was completely love drunk and the guard kept so high for most of the year had been tossed aside. It was a day of both high and low and that same buck brought me back up again when months later, underneath a spruce tree, I found both of the antlers he wore past me that day.
I have held my head in my hands after sending a muzzleloader sabot over the back of a monster typical on October 17, one day before my birthday. It was one of many things I have done wrong in hunting whitetails, character builders I like to call them. But I have been brought way up too. I have stood in awe as I have pulled the antlers of an enormous buck out of the brush. It was the culmination of three months of watching that exact deer and learning his habits and being fortunate enough to pull the trigger on an animal of a caliber that millions and millions of hunters will never even have to opportunity see alive. I have looked down the scope and pulled the trigger on a buck I had hunted for years, finally I was able to outwit that true survivor who had long ago eclipsed the average life of most bucks. I have watched an ice covered drop tine buck chase buck after buck, snort-wheezing the entire time, away from his doe in the middle of a hoarfrost covered field before dumping him in his tracks. Snort wheezing is a sound bucks use during breeding season to keep others away from their lady, Dode. Think of sounds you may have heard from one of your grandsons eat a Turkey Weekend campfire only much, much more intimidating. Each hunt that ends with a kill brings various feelings of accomplishment, the reward is immense. Possibly like that perfect batch of marmalade feels to you, Dode? So Dode, I hope I have been able to explain it well, what it is that I get from it and why I enjoy it so much. It is more than just the kill, it is the entire process. Each and every hunt is memorable and special in one way or another if you simply stop to take the time to observe the reasons why. I have heard it said that two of the most important moments in life are when you are born and when the day comes that you discover why. I know now, what I was born to do, where I was born to be. I have been fortunate in being able to chase that never ending dream in a beautiful part of the world. Like so many of the readers of this magazine, I have seen wonderful things and have learned the true meaning of the hunt. I hope you have learned about it too.
THE PASTURE
GIANT BY: TREVOR SODERBERG
Trevor Soderberg with the central Saskatchewan mule deer that is truly the trophy of a lifetime. The numbers on his buck are gigantic from top to bottom. With a typical frame that scores 197” and matching G-2’s of 18 4/8”, it does not take long to add up to the net non-typical score of 215 1/8”.
T
he 2011 hunting season started slow and uneventful but turned into my most exciting yet! I was lucky enough to be drawn for both moose and mule deer, and I was looking forward to getting an opportunity to use my new Sako .300 Win. Mag. After having an unsuccessful, disappointing and exhausting early moose season I was anxious to start mule deer hunting. I’m not an archery hunter, so my season started on October 1st with my muzzleloader. My cousin Jon and I were both drawn for the same zone. Luckily, it was the zone where we grew up and have hunted extensively ever since we were old enough to get out in the field. The previous time we had hunted mule deer we both finished with wall hangers, so our expectations were high for this season. We had set out our trail cameras, and did lots of scouting during the preseason, but neither of us had found anything to get excited about. When the first day of October finally rolled around, we started driving the country side looking for the big guys. After days and days of hunting, walking, and covering ground, we had seen plenty of deer but our favorite area was just not producing what we were looking for. By the third week of October I was starting to feel the pressure. I was starting to have thoughts of filling my tag with the next decent buck I ran into. I quickly talked myself out of it because rifle season was coming soon and the deer would start to rut. I really hoped that the rut would make the big bucks come out of hiding. Rifle season started the same as muzzleloader; there was nothing decent to be found. I was feeling frustrated about being unable to find a big mulie, so I decided to spend my weekend up north and try to bag a moose during the late season. After returning home from another unsuccessful moose hunt I called Jon to find out how his weekend of hunting had gone. The big bucks were still lying low and out of sight. Jon's father-in-law gave us a tip about an area we weren't familiar with, so we decided that it was time to go explore some new hunting grounds. The next day we drove out to new hunting grounds and found a big pasture that showed good deer sign. After getting permission to hunt the land we started exploring this new area. After a short scout we were both feeling that this was going to be a good area, as we were seeing lots of mule deer and some good bucks. It was just a matter of time till we come across the big guy. I still really wanted a moose so I thought I would take a couple of days and head north for one last attempt. After a few hard days of hunting I had to accept a season without a filled moose tag. The frustration was really starting to build! Upon returning home I once again called Jon for an update. He had interesting news to tell me. The previous evening his Dad, Brian and friend, Dion, joined him on another trip back to the pasture. Brian had also been drawn for mule deer in the same zone, and the three of them spent the afternoon hunting
and exploring more areas of the pasture. Just before dark, the bucks started to show up. Brian found himself face to face with a great buck, but it had him figured out and he was gone in an instant. Towards the end of shooting light, Jon and Dion were making their way back towards the truck. All of a sudden they crossed paths with another group of does. This time it was different. Amongst the does there he was; tall, wide and stickers all over! I wish I had been there to see him for the first time. This smart old buck quickly made his way into thick cover and was gone. Jon was very excited from the quick glimpse that he had and was convinced that it could have been the biggest mule deer he had ever seen. Dion was equally as excited and confirmed it was a monster.
The next morning, with our rifles in hand, Jon and I found ourselves back out at the pasture about an hour before sunrise. We came up with a plan to work the area. I was going to walk west from the east side and Jon was going to walk east from the west. We planned to cross paths in the middle somewhere. Now I wouldn't recommend this kind of plan to just anyone, but it was just the two of us and we have hunted many years together, and are both very careful hunters and shooters. We have gained confidence in each other’s skills and judgments. After walking slowly around for an hour I had kicked up several deer but no sign of the monster buck that was now consum-
ing all of my thoughts. That’s when I came across a cut under a power line that runs across the pasture. I thought it looked like a good place to hang out for a while and scan the countryside. After just a few minutes I spotted a deer running at what must have been a thousand yards. Even at that distance his huge rack was visible with the naked eye! The buck quickly crossed the cut line. I thought this had to be the big buck that the guys seen the night before. It almost didn’t look real. The only time that I had ever seen a deer carry a rack like that was in my dreams. I contacted Jon to tell him what I had just seen. He informed me that he just had a close encounter with him a few minutes earlier, but again was unable to get a shot off. Jon and I decided to meet up, and to come up with a new plan to go after him. Jon was going to swing around and try to get in front of the deer, and I was going to look for his running track in the snow. I was hoping to follow it and catch him off guard. When I got to where I last had seen this buck, I realized it would be pointless to waste too much time looking for his track. Due to the lack of fresh snow, the area was heavily covered with tracks. I decided to start walking in the direction that the deer had run. I had only walked about a quarter mile when I saw movement up ahead. There he was, running across an open clearing in front of me. Jon must have kicked him up once again and spooked him in my direction. I wasn’t sure exactly how far away he was but I knew he was over three hundred yards. It was show time! My first shot was a miss, but luckily I saw that my bullet had hit high a bit over his back. I carefully made a slight adjustment in my aim before firing my second. The second shot was followed by a sound that every hunter wants to here, ‘Whomp’! The buck dropped and took cover in a small nearby bush. I knew I had him but I still ran as fast as I could to get to there. While I was running, Jon called me, looking for information on what was going on. I quickly informed him that I had the buck down. When I arrived at the buck, a quick follow up shot finished him off. I couldn’t believe what lay before my eyes, I was in shock and completely speechless! Jon called again, wanting my location and to know how to get to me. However, I was completely rattled and the directions I gave him were of no help. Jon decided that he would be better off to walk back to the truck and give me a few minutes to calm down before he called to ask for directions again. After
taking a few minutes to regroup, I had to let someone know of my good fortune. Mom had always had interest in hunting, so I called her to share the news, and asked her tell Dad if he called from work. After a couple more calls to buddies, I heard from Jon again. This time I was able to give him clear direction to my location. While waiting for him find me I walked back to where I had shot from. I wanted to know just how far my shot was and stepped off 377 yards. It truly was a hunt that I will never forget. I owe many thanks to my cousin Jon for all the hours we spent together this season, and for pushing this magnificent buck out in my direction. Mule deer are my favorite animal to hunt and it is going to be a long and painful four years waiting to get drawn again.
The
Future of Hunting
Breton Villemaire
Sam Miller
Hannah Miller
Rylee Mallo
Ethan Weste
Ethan, Dylan & Carson Kirzinger
Ethan Watt Hayden & Gavin Galambos
Jayce Lockie
Cadence & Dylan Knapik
Kendal Myers
Jared Sabey
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