Big Game Illustrated V1I2

P Devin Gorder & Chad Wilkinson, Publishers

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e are truly grateful to everyone who has made the journey so enjoyable Publisher: Big Game Illustrated Media as we move into this, our second is 28-2995 2nd Ave West sue of Big Game Illustrated (BGI)!

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On that note, please keep your stories coming! We have already received Copyright: All photographs, articles and content appearing in this scores of submissions, many of which are truly exceptional, and we are always publication may not be reproduced without the permission of Big Game Illustrated Media looking for more. As you hunt this fall, be sure to capture those incredible outdoor experiences, take plenty of photos and give us a call. You never know … your story may well appear on the pages of BGI. As hunters, we recognize what is so special about spending time in the outdoors with friends and family, but unless we share them, we risk losing those opportunities. That is the premise upon which BGI was founded. We also look

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Youngster’s Nontypical Whitetail of our readers. We are only a phone call or e-mail away, and we want to hear ...and many more! from you!

In the Next Issue...

Incredible 33” Wide Whitetail!

More about our cover photo on page 82.

Volume 1 Issue 2 Fall Edition 2013

06

In This Issue...

6

PANIC!

by Josh Laycock

12 My Dream Hunt by Chris Maxwell 16 The Traditional Trophy by Corey Bailey 20 Last Day Triple Beam Beauty by Jason Spratt 16

24 Moose Redemption 34 Let ‘Em Grow

by Fern Blais

by Ryley Dewart

38 Mountain Dreams by Nick Trehearne 42 Droptine Legend by Seth Yliniemi 20

50 Unexpected Perfection by Bobby Brown 54 I Got “Him” by Brian Russet 60 Travis vs Ginormica by Jason Hauser 66 Second Chances

24

as told by Daryl Mutrie

70 Trilogy by Jannie Bischoff 74 Always Learning by Adam Deutscher Contact Big Game Illustrated Phone: (306) 930-7448/(306) 960-3828 Email: info@biggameillustrated.com

By Mail: 28-2995 2nd Ave W. S6V5V5 Prince Albert, Sk, CANADA

www.biggameillustrated.com

Like us on facebook!

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TRAINWRECK! An incredible early season trail camera picture captured in western Saskatchewan by Shawn Danychuk. Shawn’s friend Ken named him ‘trainwreck’. The buck had an injured jaw which may have caused some of the abnormal growth.

What a deer!

FEATURES...

31

Summer School

46

by Kaare Gunderson

58

by Cam Jones

Get prepared to stalk a monster animal during bow season.

64

by Brad Fry

The excitement of going on a first time ram hunt and the dedication involved.

The importance of putting in effort in the summer, to shoot that trophy animal in the fall.

Preparing for Bowhunting Season

My First Ram

Everything Outdoors

by Kevin Wilson

78

The importance of joining a local wildlife organization and contributing to the future of hunting.

Olivia’s Deer

by Devin Gorder

Six years of following this impressive whitetail. How this monster deer brought a family closer together.

The Future of Hunting Dedicated to all the young hunters.

80

PANIC! BY: JOSH LAYCOCK

Josh Laycock with the deer he nicknamed ‘Panic’ because of the feeling he had when the deer suddenly disappeared just before the season began. The big velvet buck from Eastern Saskatchewan ended up grossing 194 2/8” and netting 184 4/8” despite relatively short main beams of 21 1/2”. One of the first trail camera pictures Josh saw of the buck, showing the velvet antlers, stained yellow from the canola where the buck spent much of the preseason feeding on the brightly colored blooms.

T

he summer of ‘09 had me scouting hard for whitetails. I was determined to harvest my first true giant deer with archery gear. I was up many early mornings scouting the country side. I was also running a dozen trail cameras in a variety of areas that I had hunted in the past.

There was one area in particular that I was paying special attention to. Over the previous few years, I had heard many rumors of a huge buck that had been spotted in the area by a few different people. Like so many big whitetail stories start, this one also started with good old chit-chat and coffee shop talk.

It was Saturday in mid-July when I suddenly awoke from bed after a long week of work. The clock said 4:30, the

time I would wake up for work regularly. I thought to myself ‘Well I am up now, I may as well go for a tour. Which area should I head? Maybe I should go snoop around the area where the sightings by the highway had been?’ Fifteen minutes later, I found myself scanning canola fields with binoculars and crawling down some back roads. It was now almost 6:00 and was getting time to head back home for a coffee and breakfast. As I considered turning around I thought, ‘Hmmmm, there is an old grass trail that no one had driven down all summer. Looks like a dead end but maybe I should check it out?’ It followed the far side of a canola field that I had spent 20 minutes glassing earlier that morning. The trail was well treed which prevented a

One of the daytime pictures Josh captured of ‘Panic’. He thought he had the buck figured out until he vanished just before the season.

good view of the field. There was an approach into the field just ahead. ‘I will pull in there and glass some more’, I thought to myself. I didn't even get my wife's explorer in park when I could see some deer jump up out of the canola, only 60 yards from me. Grabbing my binoculars, I could see they were all bucks! The canola was tall, and I could only see flashes of them. However, as they hopped through the canola I could see that if they went 25 more yards, I would get a look at them as they entered into a wheat field.

‘Holy Moly’! I thought to myself. Three were bucks and one was a giant! His sleek summer body sported an incredibly heavy rack, with lots of good tall tines! They were now 200 yards from me and about to enter the trees. ‘Please, stop and take a look back buddy’, I pleaded in a loud whisper. He must have listened, because that's exactly what he did! He stopped and looked back, and that was the first time I had a good look at a true monster buck, it was 30 seconds that I will never forget as long as I live. As I watched him, I knew there had to be close to 200" of antler!

After a few moments he bounded away and I just sat there, with a million thoughts going through my mind. I drove the wife's explorer to the floor on the way home, excited to tell the Mrs. what I had seen! She was still in bed as I stormed into the house! I ran as fast as I could into the bedroom to tell her the big news! For some odd reason she didn't seem to have the

same excitement as I had.

After having breakfast, I went to the basement and loaded two trail cameras with new batteries. I immediately headed back to the spot where I had seen the giant that morning. I decided to put out one camera where the buck had entered the bush and the other in a grass slough with willows out in the middle of the canola field. Waiting that week to go back and check the trail cameras was truly the longest week of my life! I headed back the next Saturday to pull some cards.

With my anticipation at an all-time high, I checked the bush camera first. I was disappointed to find nothing but a couple does. Walking up to the slough camera I could see that there were numerous animals that had been staging in the grass since the previous week. After a quick card change,back to the truck I went. As I flipped through the pictures, I whispered to myself ‘Doe, little buck, decent four point’ then WHAMMO!, there he was five feet from the camera and looking towards it! Cha-ching! After going through all the pics it was apparent that I was in his core area! 60 pictures of him, all at different times and from almost every day of the week!

Every week I would check that camera and every week I had pictures of him! I spent a lot of time adding up the inches of his massive antlers, and kept getting right around the 200” mark. I emailed a good buddy of mine some pics. That good buddy being Mr. Dean Partridge, a true whitetail guro! He confirmed my numbers and said he would try and come out and video my hunt if I was still on him come archery opener! ‘Still on him?, of course I will still be on him!’ Lesson number one! Don't be over confident when hunting big whitetails! Archery season was tweleve days away when my worst fear happened! My dream deer had disappeared for almost a week already! I went home with my head down after checking my cameras. My lovely wife looked at me and said don't Panic!

My dream buck now had a name, but she was right I was beginning to Panic and the season hadn’t even started yet!

What do you do when a buck disappears on you? Simspend A couple Sandhill Cranes captured inple, earlyyou spring by theevery available minute looking for him!

It was now only a week before the season, and I had author. every available trail camera covering as much ground

as possible in the area.

Two days later I was back checking them. Nothing, nothing, nothing! One camera left, and it was a half mile walk down an old mile line. I took out the card and shoved it into my card reader. After so many cameras showing nothing, I did not have a lot of hope. I flipped on the card reader and wouldn't you know it, the very first picture he was standing looking out into the field, 15 feet from my camera!

The game was now back on, and I was once again in it! By this time, I had tremendous respect for this incredible deer, but I was determined to put all I had into closing the deal on ‘Panic’! All I knew for sure is that I would be waiting for him in a few days, the September 1st archery opener. On the first morning of the season, I found myself sitting in my stand that I had just put up a few days before. It was a good 45 minutes before light would break when I settled in. About 15 minutes before legal shooting light, I could hear animals moving on the far side of the fence. My stand was on an old treed-in mile line, with pasture bush to the south, and an oat field to the north. Panic had been traveling through this corner all week heading into the pasture bush to bed. It didn’t take long for me to realize that the animals were not deer. In fact, the rancher had moved his cattle into that pasture just two days earlier!

Daylight broke with no deer to be seen. The sun was now just starting to rise when I saw movement in the oat field! Two bucks and, Yes!, one of them is most definitely Panic! They were coming my way, following the edge of the oat field and the treed mile line I was in! ‘It’s going to happen, Only 150 yards until show time!’, I thought to myself. By this time the cattle had moved up to within 20 yards of my stand. The bucks could hear them and were now staring my way. They stood there staring for several minutes. Finally, they turned around and I watched Panic walk straight away from me at 100 yards. They headed out into the oat field and I watched them bed in the oats!

I decided right then that I would have to move my setup, cattle had ruined too many previous hunts, just to stay where I was setup and hope for the best.

I went home and had breakfast, by the

time I got back to the stand it was mid-afternoon and the sun was bearing down. It was 29 degrees out, with swarms of mosquitoes following my every move. In the sweltering heat, it took me two hours to move my setup another 200 yards further up the mile line where I had seen the bucks travel that morning. I was a sweating mess and decided I had better run home for a quick shower before I sat again for an evening hunt.

I got in stand early and it took three hours before the first deer appeared. It was a buck filtering his way through the oat field.

Surprisingly, it was a deer I had never got pictures of or had seen before! He was a nice 135 class four point, and I let him walk right by. Darkness was getting near when I spotted another deer working his way down the

mile line towards me. It was the smaller buck that always hung with Panic! Within 5 minutes he was 20 yards from my stand! He went on by me, but no Panic. Ten minutes later it was dark and I found myself walking back to the truck. Despite not seeing Panic, I had seen enough to give me high hopes for the morning hunt.

Next morning I was rushing to my stand as somehow I was running late. It was breaking light already as I got settled into my stand just minutes before legal hunting started. I

scanned the field with the binoculars spotting a few smaller bucks and a doe feeding away. As I was scanning the field, a nearby noise caught my attention. It was a rustling in the grass, and it was coming my way fast! I grabbed my bow not knowing what was going to appear as the noise was coming from up the old mile line, but I could not see anything. Whatever it was would be within 25 yards before I would have a clear view. It was the buck that hung with Panic!

There he was 16 yards from me.

Just as I thought ‘Panic has to be with him this morning’, I heard some noise behind him and the smaller buck looked back! Panic appeared only 25 yards from me! Both bucks started moving passed me and when Panic was 16 yards from me I drew back, stopped both bucks with a light grunt. I let ‘er fly! Panic exploded out into the oat field. He stopped 80 yards out to look back. By this time his legs had already started to give out on him! He bedded down; I could just see the top of his rack. A few seconds later I could see his rack wobbling side to side, then it disappeared into the crop. I had done it! I harvested a true giant, in full velvet with my bow! I sat down on my stand and took in all that just had happened. Ten minutes later I found myself lifting my dream buck’s rack out of the oats to take a look at my trophy! It was truly a dream come true! Then a bit of sadness hit me, knowing that I would no longer have any more encounters with such an amazing animal!

I called a couple friends, my wife and my mom to tell them the big news! Everyone was excited for me. A couple hours later I had Panic off to Country Taxidermy, for my friend Al Bohn to mount. Big thanks go to my wife for letting me spend the time I do in the woods and for her giving me the best advice anyone can give when hunting for a giant deer.

Don't Panic!

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My

DREAM

HUNT By: Chris Maxwell

A

dream hunt is made of three things; a unique opportunity, a great area to hunt and the people you make your memories with. This hunt had shaped up to include all of these things. A covered wagon, pack horses, an outfitters tent, a beautiful piece of Alberta, and last, but not least, people who share my passion for the outdoors set the stage for our week long adventure.

It was day three. A veil of darkness surrounded us as a warm breeze struck my face. The Chinook winds had returned and hunting would not be easy. Although it was pleasant to be hunting in these conditions, the warm weather would mean the elk would be high in the foothills. With abundant grass in hidden meadows all through the area there would be no reason for any animal to leave the safety of the forest for the dangers of the open valley down below. We were in for a hike and to get to where we were going meant leaving well before day light broke.

The day before had met us with success. A nice six by six elk had been taken high in the hills and today Ken and Tim were getting ready to pack him out. With two pack horses, they left to retrieve the elk. That meant that only Tom and I would be hunting. Anticipation was building as we made our way down the trail. It wasn’t long before we came to a fork in the trail and decided to split up. I was heading back to an area I had hunted

the day before, while Tom continued on. The area looked perfect for elk. Hidden grassy meadows, poplars and abundant water characterized the elk paradise that I was doing my best to sneak into. As I looked around I realized that there was really no reason for any animal to leave the bush.

The day before, I had found a very large six point elk shed as well as a few other elk sheds. These treasures gave me optimism, and assured me that this was an area elk frequently visited. This morning found me at crossroads. “Follow the same trail up the hill or take a fork in the trail that went a little further north” I thought to myself. I chose to take the north fork. It was less than five minutes into my ascent and there it was. The match to the shed I had found the day before!

Both sheds had been found within 30 yards of each other! I was more optimistic than ever that I would find elk here. In was still early and the darkness had not yet given way to the fall sun, however, the temperature was rapidly rising. Each breath of wind seemed to raise the temperature a few degrees.

It didn’t seem to matter how high I climbed the air was still getting warmer by the minute.

Day started to break and visibility was getting better. I continued my ascent and I knew that I would need to get to the top if I wanted to have any chance at all. These foothills are as steep as they get and it was taking me longer than I had ex-

Chris Maxwell of Calgary, Alberta with the big 3x3 whitetail he took while on his ‘dream hunt’ using a covered wagon and horses in the backcountry of that province. Although Chris did not take an elk on the hunt, he was able to come home with a big set of elk sheds, and some great memories of the trip with friends.

pected to reach the top of this one. CRASH! I quickly looked up and saw two moose standing fifty yards from me. The cow was good size and the bull was a shooter, but it was elk I was after. The pair slowly wandered off and I continued on my way.

With my heart racing from the excitement of seeing the moose I continued up the hill. Finally I reached the top; with the exception of a few small whitetails I had not seen any more animals. There was animal sign everywhere but what had started out as promising area had turned into an unproductive morning. My hopes were still high, but they were starting to fade a bit.

Back on the main trail, I picked up the elk shed I had found earlier and headed towards camp. I was over five kilometers from camp at this point and it was going to be a long hike back with nothing but a warm breeze and the memories of the morning hunt to ponder over. I did, however, have a set of trophy elk sheds now and although I would not take an elk on this

Some of the landscape, horses, and covered wagon that made Chris’s hunt a dream come true.

trip, I was more than happy to just have the experience.

Half way back to camp I sat down, took off my pack and rested for half an hour. There was no point in rushing back to camp. The evening hunt was a long ways off and the day warm and sunny. I stood up and reached for my pack when I saw him. The tines were so tall and dark I wasn’t sure if it was a mule deer or a whitetail. As the buck turned I saw his tail and got a better side profile of his antlers. There was no doubt now he was a whitetail and a good one at that!

It was early in the season, well before the rut, but this buck had his head down and was sniffing as if following a hot doe.

A small pool of water at the edge of a bluff of willows held his attention but only momentarily. Not aware I was only eighty yards away he continued to wander around the edge of the willows, stopping occasionally to sniff the air and to take in a mouthful of grass. I knew it was now or never. At any moment he could slip back into the willows and my shot opportunity would be gone. The report of my rifle echoed through the valley and he was down! As I approached him I was unaware at how good of a buck he actually was. He will not have a huge score and I will not likely ever put a tape to him but he is a trophy of a lifetime. This is by far the largest three point buck I have ever seen or put my hands on!

Luckily for me, a hunt of a lifetime includes good friends.

Tom was making his way back to camp when he found me with my buck. After several pictures and some hard work we finally had him quartered. It was shortly after Tom arrived when we realized we had a picture of this deer the day before!

One of the other guys had taken a photo of him on the hoof.

He had traveled a long ways from where the picture was taken to where I was finally able to put him down.

A couple hours later Ken and Tim made their way back towards camp with the elk quartered and packed. Luckily there was still room left for a little more meat on the horses. Tom and I ended up packing the rest of the deer back to camp but were grateful that some of the load was being taken by Cody and Rascal. That night we all reminisced over the past couple of days. We had hunted hard and had been rewarded with a couple of great animals.

This truly was a hunt of a lifetime!

As a side note I would like to give a special thanks to Ken for supplying the horses and wagon.

Without him this hunt would not have been possible!

Early September is a magical time to be in the woods with big bull elk. There are few experiences like it!

Hamilton Greenwood Photo

THE

TRADITIO

BY: COREY BAILEY Corey Bailey with the tremendous buck he took using his recurve bow. The big Kansas State brute weighed 288 pounds live and had an official gross score of 187”. Corey entered him into the Buckmasters Record Book where the buck stands as the Kansas State Record by recurve.

T

his story started several years ago. I was at my father’s house for dinner and a friend of my older brothers introduced himself.

We chatted a bit and he asked "So I hear you like to deer hunt"?

To which I replied "A little". Anybody who knows me would agree that this is a HUGE understatement. He went on to tell me that he has been asking folks around here to come and hunt on his family property but no one has taken him up on it. He had my interest so I asked “Well, where are you from?” He said “Kansas”. That reply had my interest peaked and I said “Well, you have found the fellow who will!” We talked for some time and the stage was set for me to go hunt on his family’s farm in Kansas. At that time, you still had to build preference points in order to draw a tag. I put in the next season but wasn't drawn. I decided to try again and was successful.

This started my relationship with his family who treated me like one of their own from the first day that I set foot on their place. The ground was incredible and I knew that it must hold some good deer. Despite my best efforts, I did not let an arrow fly that first season. I saw a few decent bucks in the 130" range but held off, waiting to see if there were bigger deer around. The next season I was fortunate to take a 154" buck off the farm with my compound bow.

As much as I enjoyed shooting and hunting with my compound, I longed to master the art of shooting a traditional bow. My good friend and mentor Willie Runnels from Illinois, whom I have hunted with for many years, sparked my interest in traditional archery. He is an awesome shot with his traditional bow and a great hunter who taught me a lot about hunting Midwest whitetails. He has taken many deer with traditional equipment and a couple that made the Pope and Young record books. I had tinkered with it some but couldn’t get proficient enough to feel confident to hunt with it. I wanted more of a challenge, and in the spring of 2011 I bought my first custom recurve and I shot it everyday until I was confident with my new toy. I made every 3D shoot that spring and summer with my new Zona recurve and, as time went by, I was shooting it very well. I decided to hunt with it that coming season after successfully harvesting a few hogs that summer.

ONAL TROPHY

In early September I went to public land in Nebraska where I took two does and passed on several young bucks. I planned another trip to Nebraska to try to fill my buck tag during the early rut and I took a nice nine point. A couple days later I shot a pretty ten point and a doe. To say my confidence level was high would be an understatement. I was now as confident in my recurve as I had been in my compound bow in the past. I left Nebraska and made the drive south to the farm in Kansas. With my confidence high, I was focused on finding a good buck on the Kansas property. I just knew that property was hiding some big, wary old bucks.

The first evening I had a 145-150” class buck come out in

the cut corn field. I had my buck decoy setup in the field, but he didn't like the decoy, stomped and blew out of there. As I prepared for the next day’s hunt, my thoughts drifted to a trail cam picture of a big buck back from 2009. I did not get any pictures of him in 2010, so I thought he may have been taken by another hunter, or died one way or another. Despite my doubts, he was still in the back of my mind. I hunted the spot the next morning where I had got the pictures of him. It was a good spot where deer like to cross a small creek, but I only saw one young buck. At 9:30am I decided to go scout a little knoll that jutted out into a cut bean field. I never hunted this little corner of the farm before because there really wasn't much to it. It was only about 3/4 an acre but it was on a high vantage point where a deer could see for almost 360 degrees. The little patch of locust trees butted up to a CRP field and extended out into a cut bean field. The closer I got to this knoll the more I realized it was a good spot for a buck to bed up.

As I looked around, I realized this was an absolutely perfect spot, and I thought the biggest bucks on the property would think the same thing. As I stood there, I got a strong feeling that something was about to happen...I went into stealth mode and knocked an arrow. I moved very slowly and quietly, easing my way along, looking for tines in the grass. I'd take a step and scan, wait a minute or two and move up a step. I kept this up for a while and I was about half way down the knoll to the CRP, when I looked ahead and saw a HUGE rack coming my way. I crouched down and got ready for a shot opportunity. I was on my knees with my chest almost on the ground.

An absolutely stunning trail camera photo of Corey’s big whitetail.

With my bow out in front of me I was praying I could pull this off. He strolled up to 20 yards, spotted me and looked right at me. I thought to myself “It’s now or never man!” I drew my recurve and as I hit my anchor, I let the string drop. He wheeled fast and tore out of there! I was sure I had hit him, but he had spun so fast that I wasn’t sure where, so I ran along the tree line to see where he was. As soon as I cleared the trees, I could see that he had stopped on the woods edge across the field. He stood there twitching his tail, and then I saw him stumble!!!!

He took a couple of steps into the edge of the wood line and flopped down. He tried to get up once but fell over again. I was

sure he was down for good but I took a seat and watched where he last fell for almost an hour. Then I took off my boots, knocked an arrow and eased up to where I had last seen him.

He was done! I dropped to my knees, thanked the Good Lord with tears streaming down my face, the emotions of taking such an incredible animal was overwhelming. The buck of a lifetime, taken with my Zona recurve to boot. He was 288 pounds live weight on my Moultrie scale! The official gross score on the buck is 187" and he is the new Kansas State record by recurve in the Buckmasters record books!

Last Day,

TRIPLE BEAM Beauty BY: JASON SPRATT

Jason Spratt of Melfort, Saskatchewan stands beside the incredible deer he took on his last day to hunt in 2012. The deer truly has one of the most impressive racks of any whitetail taken in 2012. The left antler has three main beams and 42 4/8” of abnormal growth! Despite the narrow rack, with an inside spread of 16 4/8”, the big deer still had a gross score of 229 1/8”and a net score of 221”. Taxidermy work on Jason’s big deer was done by Kent Ringheim of Wilderness Taxidermy (see ad on page 9) who did a spectacular job.

T

he 2012 hunting season started out with disappointment. I had been very lucky to draw a mule deer tag, but despite a significant effort to fill it, I was unable to.

Like many hunters, most of my opportunity to get out in the field comes on the weekend. After the disappointment of the unfilled mule deer tag, I was really looking forward to whitetail season. I hunted every time I had the opportunity during whitetail season and, for my efforts, I had seen one whitetail buck and a handful of does. The few deer that I did see did not offer me a clean shot. I was down to my last day of hunting for the year and had yet to fire a single shot or even be presented with many opportunities. Despite that, I certainly enjoyed my time in the field and was still optimistic and looking forward to a last day hunt on December 2nd. To say that I would be holding out for a big buck on my last day would be a stretch and, to be honest, I was mostly thinking about a freezer full of venison when I ventured out that morning with no idea of what was about to take place.

The day before I had talked to my dad, Ross Spratt, and he told me that there had been a few deer and elk out on a field that he had been hauling bales off of. In fact, they had lost over a dozen bales to the animals that were already raiding his hay fields trying to prepare for the long winter ahead. As I talked with my dad, he told me there had been a number of does out in the field throughout the day. My Dad does not hunt, but I was very pleased when I asked him if he would come with me and show me where they were, and he agreed to join me in the field.

We were up very early the next morning and managed to get set up in place a half an hour before sunrise. As the sun began to show us the field, we could see there were six cow elk eating at one of the destroyed bales. The elk were within easy rifle range, but there were no deer to be seen. We decided to try and sneak along to the far edge of the field where my dad said he had seen most of the deer. As we moved into the field, the elk spotted us and wandered away as we approached. I was

relieved they did not run and spook everything off the field.

We had to get around a corner in the tree line in order to see the area where the deer usually fed, so we headed in that direction. We slowly rounded the corner and came up onto the top of a hill so we could see the hay field stretched out in front of us. I had noticed a lot more tracks and deer signs as we snuck to the top of the hill. As soon as we peeked over the hill, we could see a couple whitetails. A closer look through my binoculars revealed a buck and a doe about 300 yards south of us. It was a makeable shot and the deer had not seen us. They seemed to be quite content feeding in the field so we decided that it would be a good idea to try and get closer. There was a small willow bluff about 200 yards southeast of us and we made a plan to sneak up to the bluff which would put us about 100 yards from the deer and give me a comfortable shot. Just before we headed out to the bluff I took one last look at the buck in my binoculars. It was a quick look, but I could tell he was a nice size and a definite shooter, especially on the last day!

We walked down the hill until the bluff was directly between us and the deer. As we got to the bottom of the hill we stopped for a moment at a rock pile to discuss exactly what our plan was. We made sure we had a solid plan and were hopeful it would work out. We took one step towards the willow bluff and all of a sudden noticed another buck and four does that seemed to come out of nowhere about 200 yards east of us. Now we weren’t sure what to do because this was the most deer I had seen all year! I thought to myself, “Which one should I go after?” For a second I considered going after this new buck, but after thinking about it for

a moment I still thought that getting behind the bluff would give me my best opportunity at a clean shot at the first buck.

Little did I know what a fateful decision this would be! Dad stayed at the rock pile to keep an eye on the other deer in case the first two had disappeared, as whitetails so often do. I did my best to sneak quietly towards the willows. It seemed to take forever to get to that bluff. When I finally reached it, I slowly peeked around the willows. I could not see the buck or the doe that had been standing there. Just as I began to think they had gone, I moved a little further around and both deer appeared on the other side of the willows. I was very relieved to see they hadn’t moved and my plan was coming together!

As I knelt down and got him in the crosshairs of my Remington 770 model .30-06, I could see he was way bigger than I had initially thought! Luckily at the time I did not give it much thought because this was my last day to hunt and I needed to fill the freezer! The big buck looked at me and took about five steps away from me. I thought to myself, “come on, stop… don’t run…don’t run!” Then, as if he was listening to me, he stopped, turned perfectly broadside and looked right at me again. It was the perfect opportunity and I did not waste any time. I took my shot, hit him hard, and he dropped straight to the ground! I was instantly so happy that it had all worked out and that my long season of disappointment had ended on such a high. I knew he was a good buck, but did not look at his antlers a lot before the shot. As a result, when I walked up to him he seemed to get bigger and bigger, and that was the first time I noticed the double beam on his left side. I had never seen a buck that looked like that and thought it was pretty unique but still didn’t give it a lot of thought. After a couple quick pictures,

I field dressed him. Meanwhile, my Dad walked back to get the truck so we could load him up.

Now I knew this was a pretty big deer, but I had no idea how

“The big buck looked at me and took about five steps away from me. I thought to myself, “come on, stop… don’t run…don’t run!” Then, as if he was listening to me, he stopped, turned perfectly broadside and looked right at me again. It was the perfect opportunity and I did not waste any time.”

big! I consider myself an amateur hunter. I have only shot two other deer in my life so I had no idea what he would score.

When we loaded him in the truck and took him to show to the landowner, his excited reaction prompted me to take the buck over to my friend, Gerry, who has hunted many years more than I have, to see what he thought. He was also very excited at the size of the buck but didn’t know how they would measure it with the double beam on one side. We counted 21 scoreable points and noticed he had one broken off point too. As Gerry and I discussed the buck, he was really excited and suggested to me that magazines may be interested in my deer. I laughed and thought he was kidding, but as it turns out, he was right!

Even then, I still did not realize how big he was. Over the next couple of weeks as pictures of my buck spread through the area I began to Just imagine walking up to a buck like this! realize how fortunate Truly once in a lifetime sight. I was to take a deer like this. I had a convoy of people who had heard about the buck stopping by my place or calling me to ask if they could see him. I even had people stopping by my work to talk about the deer!

I had him officially scored for the Saskatchewan Record Book at 221” non-typical, with 56 4/8” of abnormal points. I realize now that he is definitely a buck of a lifetime!

The mount is done

by Kent Ringheim of Wilderness Taxidermy of Melfort.

Jason with the big deer shortly after he downed it with his 30-06. Jason took up hunting later on in life and had only been hunting a couple years before taking the deer of a lifetime. He taught himself everything about being a hunter and clearly has it figured out!

Fern Blais of Pembroke, Ontario poses with the world class moose he took in that province in 2011. The incredible bull has antlers that are truly one of a kind. Non-typical points are rare on a moose, but Fern’s big bull has them in abundance. The 62 3/8” wide bull went into the Ontario record books with a gross score of 217 5/8”, but it scored lower because of the nontypical points which score as deductions. As a result, Fern decided to enter it into the SCI record books as well.

After being scored, it is now the world record Eastern Canada Moose, with a score of 584 1/8”.

M REDEMPTION oose

I

have been hunting all my life, as far back as I can remember. I began with small game, and then became a passionate whitetail deer and wild turkey hunter. I always dreamed of going after the majestic monarch of the Canadian woods, the moose, but I had never had the opportunity.

To tell you about my moose hunt, I have to back up one year. I was asked to join a group of dedicated archery hunters, made up of work colleagues and family members. The group had been hunting together for over 15 years in the same general area of northern Ontario. I had never moose hunted, and now my dream was about to come true. I was about to have a chance to hunt the largest member of the deer family!

September finally arrived and my friend Derek, and I, hit the road. We were heading to his father’s (Bud) place. On route I met some other members of the group. (Dan, Mike, and Leanne). Finally, after arriving at camp, I meet John and his young son. After setting up camp, the group got out the targets and archery gear, to do some practice shooting and make sure everything was still shooting accurately. It didn’t take long to hear the friendly banter about shooting a “real” bow. You see I was the only group member shooting a crossbow. But my arrows didn’t have any trouble hitting the bulls-eye at 50 yards.

We set out to survey the area and were pleased to see that it held a lot of moose sign. We set up a series of tree stands and ground blinds, ready for the first days hunt. The first morning was cold and frosty, and I watched the sun rise from my tree stand with the rays cascading over the grown

BY: FERN BLAIS

up clear cut. Bud had a bull responding, and had a good look at a mature bull, but no arrows were released. Being new at moose hunting, and a new member of the group, I just took in the advice of others and went with the game plan.

After four days of asking about hunting a two year old cutover, John finally took me into the area. John knows how to call moose, and has been chasing and killing moose for a long time. We walked in at first light, and setup to call.

After a half hour of waiting, he made a soft cow call. Right away two bulls answered. WOW, my heart instantly started to pound like never before. They were already close!

Thirty minutes later, after much coaxing from John, a monster bull came walking out of the thick bush, about 200 yards off. He raked a small spruce tree, to let us know he was there. John was talking to him, and the bull was doing the “wooahh, wooahh” while coming in closer and closer. He was flashing his rack from side to side as he approached. At 50 yards the bull was trying to position himself downwind from the cow call. This brought him into range for me. The bull was majestic and held a 50-inch rack. I was in cover, and had some maple brush between the bull and me. After about ten minutes of him standing and looking for his cow, I decided I should keep behind the brush for cover, but close the gap, to get a clear shot.

As I repositioned myself, I did not realize that the bolt on my crossbow had snagged a piece of brush, and had pulled away from the string on the ramp. I stepped out from behind the bush, and ranged the big bull, calculating that he was 37 yards away. He slowly turned until he was

broadside to me, and I squeezed the trigger. I heard an awful “whack” and saw the bolt flutter to his feet. The bull just stood there, watching this. Then he stood for a while longer! As I panicked to try and reload, he finally had enough and left the scene. I found the bolt broken at the fletching, and learned a valuable lesson that I will never forget. Always make sure the bolt is seated on the string before firing. I did not have another chance at a bull on the trip. All winter long, I had visions of that bull walking away from me. Not a day passed when it didn’t cross my mind.

By the time the next September moose season finally arrived, I was ready. We were heading out in the archery only moose season. I was hunting with the same great bunch of

guys along with two other group members, Mark and Nick.

After an eleven-hour drive we finally made it to our camp location in northern Ontario. For the next few days we hunted hard and some of the guys had close calls but nobody was able to connect. Bud had a nice bull swim across a lake to visit his “cow” but he hung up at 80 yards and went back. The weather was unseasonably warm this year, with daytime temperatures of 20 degrees Celsius. Little did we know it, but on September 26th, things were about to become very interesting.

Derek, Leanne, and I returned to a spot we felt good about.

We had hunted this lake the previous fall, and the area had lots of moose sign. We got into place for the evening hunt and we were all in our spots around 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Derek was setup in the middle, on a point along the lake as the caller and Leanne and I were at opposite sides, for the ambush. Our plan was that the bull would walk the shoreline, to reach the cow call. As I walked toward the area I was going to watch, I noticed fresh moose tracks, and silted water along the shore where a game trail came out to the edge of the lake. I set up a ground blind, on the downwind side of the trail with a good shooting lane up the trail. While sitting there, I started pondering whether I had made a good decision in my choice of a ground blind. I realised that a moose could get down wind of me if he walked the shoreline south of me. So, I decided to move. I followed the edge of the lakeshore to the end of the point; I figured the only way a moose could get down wind was if it were swimming. I found a big blowdown root to sit in and got comfortable. At 6:30pm, I heard it, a couple bull grunts, but they were a long ways off. I

An example of the rugged landscape where Fern and his hunting party anchored the moose.

radioed Derek to let him know I just heard a bull about a kilo- sound heading right for me from the thicket. I looked around metre away. About ten minutes later I heard him again, and he for cover, and saw myself surrounded by marsh grass. I had sounded closer! Derek called several times, but the bull never nowhere to go, and it was too late to find cover now! The bull answered. stepped out of the jack pine and spruce, and I could see him Time was quickly ticking by, and with only 30 minutes of for the first time. He stood seven feet at the shoulder with a legal time left, I heard a bull grunt, about 200 yards off. He was rack that topped at least ten feet high! He looked both ways, coming through the “dirtiest” brush possible. The bull came in for a fight with a bull. He thrashed at a nearby spruce. I put up downwind of Derek, but upwind from me, in the location of my rangefinder and pegged him at 43 yards. But all I had was the game trail that I had left earlier. He came in, grunting and a huge rack and head, so I gave another grunt call. That did it breaking branches to about 80 yards then held up, but I still for the bull, he lunged forward, out of the spruce and into the could not see him. This bull was hot, and grunted a lot. I was tea brush, quartering towards me, but now only at 40 yards. I looking at my watch, and the minutes ticking away. Finally I aimed just behind the front shoulder and I let the bolt fly. The called Derek and told him, “Time was not on our side and I bull roared, and bolted forward running directly in front of was going in after the bull”. Derek called back, “Go for it, it’s all me, a mere 20 yards, but heading into the lake. I watched him we got!” After hearing that, I jumped up, got my pack on, and stop at the edge of the lake, and he wobbled at the back hips. started charging through the thickest brush heading for the edge of the lake Another view of the rack showing more of the towards this bull. Making all the noise rare, non-typical points the big bull carried.

I could, I also grunted while moving.

Each time I grunted, the bull responded, “whooah, whooah”. I could hear him, breaking branches, thrashing the nearby vegetation. I hit the edge of the lake, and started splashing in the marsh grass, all the while closing the gap. I got out past the game trail, into the marsh grass, and rattled an alder branch, up against my crossbow limbs. This got the “train engine rolling”. I will never forget the noise coming at me, grunting, branches snapping and shear speed of the

I ranged him again; he was only 50 yards away, so I decided to reload, to take another shot. Just as I was about to let my second arrow fly, he spotted me. He had looked my way when he heard the cocking “click” and loading the bolt, and he started to run back toward the bush. He crashed into the bush, where he had come from.

Derek and I met at the location we saw him enter the bush.

Both of us couldn’t believe the size of the antlers, the size of his neck, and the size of the moose! Derek found “GOOD BLOOD” first. So we waited in the tea brush on the edge of the lake. My hands started to shake, as the adrenaline rush started to subside. After about ten minutes we heard a loud CRACK, we both looked at each other saying, “He just fell over”. We put our bows in the cases, and got the headlights on as it got dark. After 45 minutes we followed the blood trail for about 50 yards, but then the blood stopped. We looked as much as we could; we just couldn’t find any sign past that last drop. The bush was thick and the ground was covered in thick moss, with lots of moose tracks all over. My mind kept wandering back to last year. I thought “Oh no am I going to live through another nightmare winter thinking about missed opportunities?!!”. We meet up with Leanne and decided to head for camp for help.

I returned with three others in our group, Mike, Mark and John. It was now 10 pm. I back tracked my GPS and followed my track back towards the location I marked at the last blood.

I told Mike, who was following me, “Mike, we have to move over about ten yards where the last blood is” to get on track.

Mike looked at me and said “Why don’t we go this way instead, your moose is laying right here” WHOOOOO! The celebration instantly began! By the time the rest of the group arrived it was after midnight and was now September 27, my 53rd birthday. We worked all night, because of the warm temperatures, and got the beast at the butcher the next day. The dressed moose quarters weighed over 800 pounds not including the hide, head, feet, or tenderloins! We measured the antlers to be 62 3/8” wide.

After the 60-day required drying time, I got him panel scored by FROW, Foundation for the Recognition of Ontario Wildlife. His score is 217 5/8 GROSS with a NET score of 205 5/8 Boone and Crockett. He lost a lot because of his non-typical antlers, so I also got him measure by SCI. SCI does not deduct score for asymmetry, but scores total mass. My moose has become a new world record Eastern Canada Moose, scored at 584 1/8 inches.

This hunt was made possible because of an excellent group of dedicated hunters. I have learned so much from them about moose hunting in two short years. It helps when they know the territory so well, and I thank them for allowing me to share their moose hunting time together.

This young bull has tremendous potential and, given a few years, will almost certainly grow a very unique set of antlers.

Shawn Danychuk Photo

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SUMMER SCHOOL BY: KAARE GUNDERSON

B

y now it'll be mid-August; I’ll Hamilton Greenwood Photo have made countless casts into my favourite pike haunts with family and friends. Chasing Northern pike is my summer obsession, and I am positive that I will have landed some beautiful fish before their photo is taken prior to their release. I will also likely complain about the heat.

Sometime in the past ten years, I have become an old dog on hot days. That won't stop me from getting together with buddies for softball games, though, and I will have had a month or more of enjoying the rewards of hard work in my garden, loving the taste of fresh vegetables. We will have spent time at my parents' cabin too and slept in the old camper somewhere for a short time. The list goes on, but none of these days will have been without thinking about which buck to concentrate on hunting and how to best increase my odds of being successful come fall.

Let me backtrack a bit and say that when Chad and Devin contacted me about writing for Big Game Illustrated, I was uncertain. I am not a professional hunter, but rather a regular Joe who gains access to hunting fields by knocking on doors, as I am sure many of you do. Nor am I a professional writer. I am a teacher by day and an outdoors-obsessed individual always. The more I thought about doing some writing, though, the more intrigued I became. I believe hunting is a tremendous pastime that takes us back to the very roots of us as a society.

I enjoy the rewards of putting food on my own table; it just tastes better to me. I also believe that promoting the outdoors and the hunting lifestyle that can go with it is vitally important.

Mother Nature has so much wonder to offer that it seems a responsibility to share her with others. As an educator, I see writing about outdoor experiences as an opportunity to enlighten more of today's youth on the many rewards that can come from being an ethical hunter, one who values all aspects of nature. I feel it is important to recognize our role in the ecosystem. With those thoughts as my motivators, I agreed to share some of my adventures.

Back to the present: Hopefully, by mid-August I'll have chosen that buck I hope to hunt and if history is an indicator, I will. There are not many bucks mounted on my wall that I have not gotten to know much more about during the many days, the months, or even years, leading up to that day we all so anx-

iously await, the opening day of the season.

If you look at some of the more successful hunters, and there are many, there is often a pattern. The bucks they are hunting are more often than not being scouted during the summer months. The process is not rocket science, but rather more of a time-investment game. Personally, I find it pretty much as cut and dried as using a trail camera to locate one or, even better, spending time glued to my optics, while observing animals grazing on their preferred food sources. Though the trail cams are additional sets of eyes that are always watching, enjoying a visual contact with your own peepers is even better. I get to know where the buck is feeding. If taken even further, I get to know his travel patterns.

In some areas, the camera is used with a bait situation. In the areas I hunt, at the time I am most focused on, early season, this bait will get you a bear, so I concentrate on other ways to capture their image. The photo subject I am most after is whitetails. I am not sure how long I've held these beautiful ungulates in such high esteem. I would guess it has been for most of my life. I can still remember at a very young age a skull plate of a whitetail buck that my uncle Gerald gave me, over a quarter of a century ago. I stared at a hole through it and then nailed it to the wall of the little shed in my parents' yard. I rely heavily on the use of trail cameras, but during the summer I place them in likely travel routes or aim them at salt licks in hopes of capturing photos of the bucks in the area. If the right buck shows up, I begin snooping a bit further, poking around nearby food sources, with optics in hand.

If nothing else, scouting for whitetail is a great excuse to go for a summer drive. It is definitely suited to people that live near the area they hunt. Crops will be rapidly growing and maturing, the canola blooming its vibrant yellow. There will be more shades of green than Crayola could ever hope to duplicate. I will see species of birds that will be gone almost as

quickly as they arrived, knowing more will fly south at the first hint of winter. Wildflowers are abundant, and so too are the many varieties of wildlife we are able to encounter in this great province. In summer, all things biotic live the good life, while the living is easy. And maybe the buck I am looking for will give me a glimpse into his world?

I would need an entire magazine to share all of my summer scouting stories. But I can single out one that took place in the summer of 2011. I was heading west from home, up to Myra Lake to do some perch fishing with my two sons when I spied a terrific old buck that I had admired for years. He was lying in the wide open, trying to avoid bugs in the timber, I assume.

It was a buck I had considered before, one of the better bucks that I knew of in the area. I had seen him in previous years, but now he was over a mile north of where I had spotted him on those other occasions. Then again and again, throughout the summer, I would find him there from time to time, along with many other deer. I felt strongly that as the year progressed, he'd eventually move back to what I considered was his core area. He didn't, but little did I know that I would later be able to capitalize on that tidbit of information I had gathered the previous summer.

The largest buck I have ever killed and in all likelihood will ever see alive in the wild I spotted one summer evening on the way home from playing ball. Because I always have my binos in the truck, I was able to spy on him from afar. For the better part of a month- and-a-half I watched him enter the alfalfa field in the same spot, and was confident it was only a matter of time before he'd be mine. Towards the end of the summer, I went so far as to ride a mountain bike the last three-quarters of a mile into the area and watched from a concealed location. Though summer deer are more tolerant of vehicles, I believe you can overdo it, and I like to make my presence unknown, if I can. There is no doubt in my mind that if I watched this big fellow from the truck window a number of times, that he would not have strolled out while I waited nearby with a muzzleloader on Thanksgiving weekend. And he did just that, but that is another story!

Regarding the buck I happened upon in the alfalfa field, by mid-November of the 2011 season, that old, drop-tined buck had yet to show at his regular haunts.

I was sure that I would eventually get a crack at him in those likely spots. I thought he could be somewhere close by, maybe a place where he had busted me while I was trying to draw my bow on him from the ground a year earlier. At that time I had slipped in for a "ground pound" one morning in the hopes of cutting him off on his way back to the timber. I'd done everything right. Well, most everything, but the 6th sense that old bucks seem to have, allowed him to live another day... Or maybe he would be where I had passed him up the year before at fifty yards with a muzzleloader, when he strolled out into the field. He was safe that night because another buck was consuming my mind.

I felt our inevitable meeting could even end up across the river, on the field where he’d almost run me over during that same 2010 rifle season. I had no buck tag, but I had taken my eldest son, then seven, out to fill a doe tag. I’m glad we chose that field to sneak into in the morning darkness. A road hunter had spied the buck also, and even scoped him from the hood of his truck. I’m sure he was annoyed, because he had to choose not to shoot; the red blob and its little sidekick were already occupying the field. I’m sure the guy cursed us as the buck sped by our position.

The old buck, however, made visits to a salt lick right up until late August, but any visuals had vanished since that time.

By mid-November I wasn’t even sure he was still alive, until I glimpsed him on my way to work one frosty morning. I had not discovered any other deer I wanted to pursue and found myself carrying my tag far later into the season than I like to.

I had found some other bucks that would score better, but I wished hang my tag on the older, lesser scoring deer that I had been fortunate enough to encounter for years. I decided to roll the dice and go back to the area in which I had watched him during that summer, away from his ‘typical’ territory.

Truthfully, I would have bet against myself. There were still deer in the area, but not nearly as many as there had been earlier in the year, when I hunted nearby during September and October. By now the rut was winding down and we were stuck in a -25ºC stretch, not my favourite weather for sitting on the edge of a field.

So, on my way home from work one Friday, I decided to plunk myself down on the ground in the same general area I had last seen him. Within an hour, he walked out of the woods right on top of me, and I shot him at less than ten yards. I could see right away that he was all beaten up, and after skinning him out, I learned that he was full of puncture wounds on his front chest and shoulders. As an old buck, his prime was past. He had obviously been taught the The author with the same cruel lesson he mature whitetail he had surely handed took using information out himself a time or he gained in the two over the years. middle of summer.

He was, when I shot

him, interested in but one thing: food. He never even glanced at the does feeding nearby. In killing him, I like to think I did him a favor. I never did score him, but I doubt he'd gross 170.

He was, though, a dandy old buck with wicked, bladed, browtines, my favourite trait, and he had a drop-tine to boot. Having such character, being so old, and a buck that I had encountered so many times, he gave me a lot to be happy about.

For some reason, and there are many possibilities, the old boy had never roamed far from his summer area. If not for that perch-fishing trip with my kids, maybe I would have never accumulated that totality of information that was good enough for me to capitalize on three months later. From four years of trail camera photos, and lots and lots of eyeballing during the summer months, the buck finally made his way to my wall, a place he will always be admired and appreciated. To me, it was a bittersweet ending for such an impressive animal. He likely wouldn't be looking down from that wall now, if those summer months that are typically reserved for summer-only activities weren't also shared with the looking forward to and planning for my favourite time of year: fall. Give it a try this summer. Put the golf game off until tomorrow, that mowing of the lawn can wait too, and so can the odd jobs around the house. All it takes is a bit of time. But remember, if you do head out scouting, don't forget to respect landowners and gain permission. Without their unselfish spirit, our dreams have no chance.

Let ‘Em BY: RyLEY DEWART

GROW

I

Ryley Dewart proudly poses with the buck he had years of history with and watched grow from a young buck to a 200”+ gross whitetail hunters dream about. With an inside spread of 23”, G-2’s of 12” and 14”, and 16” of abnormal points, the big buck had a gross score of 203 1/8”.

never dreamed that the path to harvesting the biggest buck I have ever laid eyes upon would begin with a young, four point deer. The journey began in the 2009 season with a perfect little buck constantly at my blind. He returned in the summer of 2010, this time as a 125-class 4x4 with a small kicker.

He was entertaining to watch; a young deer full of spirit, constantly running, jumping and sparing with the other deer at my blind. When he returned in the summer of 2011, I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of antler he had grown. In just one year he was now a 165-class 5x4 with some kickers. However, he also grew much more wary. I put in countless hours at my blind that season only to see him once. I knew how much growth he put on the past year so I made the difficult decision to let him walk. As the 2011 season continued, the hunting pressure in my area exploded and he completely disappeared. I was sure he had been taken. I was kicking myself, thinking ‘how could I have let such a huge, character deer go’?

To my surprise, in December of 2011, there he was in a trail camera picture! His wide frame and kickers were unmistakeable. I looked absolutely everywhere that winter for his sheds but again all sign of him was gone. Despite my doubts, he showed up again in August 2012. He had survived the winter and again put on some serious inches. What a jaw-dropper, he looked spectacular in velvet, with a 6x5 typical frame with seven kickers and a split brow tine! I continued to get pictures of the monster through August and September, but it was apparent he had become nocturnal. Of all the pictures I had, only two were during the day, and they were right before dark. Of course,

on October 1st, the first day of muzzleloader season, he again completely disappeared.

I crawled into my blind on the 1st at 3am.

I sat the entire day, seeing only two does.

I didn’t let it get me down; I knew he was out there somewhere and just had to wait until he made a mistake.

I sat every morning and evening through October. I was seeing another great deer, a 170-class 6x5. He was tempting and making me seriously doubt my decision to hold off until the monster showed up. It was the same story throughout October with a bunch of does in the area and the nice 170-class making regular appearances. But I wasn’t sitting there for him. There was one deer I had been waiting for and that wasn’t about to change.

October 29th rolled around and brought with it a weather change. The snow blew in and suddenly daylight deer activity exploded around my blind. Throughout the day I saw 14 different bucks, including the 170-class 6x5. It was obvious the pre-rut was beginning and the deer were on the move. I was having a great time; the deer were really putting on a show, fighting, sparing and chasing each other all around me. It was about 30 minutes before dark when a train of deer began funnelling towards my blind. And right in the middle of it, there he was. This was the moment I had been waiting for since watching the rambunctious little buck in 2009. What a beautiful buck he had become! Watching him come in to the blind was entertaining, it was obvious he was the boss and everyone knew it. He completely dominated the scene with all other deer making way for him.

I quietly lifted my muzzleloader and prepared for the opportunity of a lifetime.

There was so many deer around my blind that it took about 15 minutes to finally get a clear shot. He was standing at 75 yards and I pulled the trigger. I was thrilled! I climbed out of my blind and headed over to where he was standing. I couldn’t believe it.

With all the blowing snow, the tracks were covered and there was no blood, no hair, nothing signalling a good shot! I tried my best to follow the biggest track, but with the blowing snow, it was hopeless. I got

that sinking feeling in my stomach. What had happened? Did I miss? How could this have happened? With darkness setting in I had to wait until the next morning to try and track him down. It was one of the longest nights of my life.

On the morning of the 31st, I was up and out the door at first light to find my deer. Rain had begun to fall and the snow was melting.

I returned to my blind and again found no sign of him. I couldn’t believe it, after all these years and encounters with him, I blew it! I began walking back to my truck and to my amazement saw a track with a drop of blood in it. I followed it into the woods and found a bed with a pool of blood. I continued following it and ran into a couple more beds with pools of blood in them. But quickly the blood disappeared and I was just following tracks. I was starting to again lose hope and decided I had better get some help. I called one of my best hunting friends, Josh, and he was excited to come out and help me track this monster deer.

We decided to retrace my steps, following the track in a large ¼ mile circle. But then we both lost the track. We immediately stopped and fanned out in different directions. We just could not locate his track. Suddenly, there was movement

20 yards right in front of me. He jumped up and took a couple steps and then stopped. There he was standing 40 yards away looking at us. I shouldered my muzzleloader and fired. He took off running but hit a tree and fell over. That was it.

I couldn’t believe it! I was yelling, jumping and could not have been happier!

There he was, the biggest deer I had seen in my life was on the ground. Words just can’t explain the feeling at that moment! To be honest, after three amazing years watching this deer become the monster he did, it is going to be sad not to see him in the 2013 season. Instead, every time I see him on the wall, I think about the great memories I will always have as I watched him grow up, and that moment when he walked in, and all my hard work paid off.

Ryley with the big buck shortly after he downed him. Whitetails like this, with 23” inside spread, are rare indeed!

A couple big northern Saskatchewan whitetails enjoy the summer. It is always interesting to see the bucks acting so friendly until the rut begins.

Photo by Devin Gorder

F

rom an early age of hiking and backpacking, I’ve always had an infatuation with the mountains and the animals that inhabit them. Little did I know then, that they would lead me through misery in the search of a trophy mule deer buck. Having a few good prairie deer under my belt, I decided that it was going to be time to commit myself to the mountains.

I did not want the next world record. I just wanted what most people seldom harvest with archery equipment in the Rockies of Alberta – a Pope and Young class mountain mule deer.

Aware of the challenges this brings, I decided to start scout-

ing even earlier in the year knowing that this would not be an easy task. Unlike the prairies, I would not be able to drive around and cover lots of country. In order to scout a relatively small area, I would have to hike for the better part of a day to get away from the crowds, glass until dark and either hike out into the darkness, or stay in a bivy sack for the night. This made for a very challenging task, especially when you go to all the effort, and not see a single mule deer. Needless to say, giving up had crossed my mind on the long dark hikes out after a few scouting trips like this had happened.

Nick Trehearne with his Pope and Young mountain mule deer. The habitat where these mule deer live make the hunt exceptionally challenging, and, as a result, a successful hunt is that much more rewarding. The southern rockies hold some temendous deer, such as Nick’s. However, the hunt requires some serious effort to take one home, especially using archery tackle.

As the summer months were in full swing and my scouting usually consisted of one or two trips per week, I was finally starting to feel some confidence that this might actually happen this fall. I had several bachelor herds of bucks spotted in numerous basins throughout the Southern Rockies and was anxiously watching their velvet grow to see what they might become. By August, I knew that there was a couple deer that would meet my goals. Not only would they meet Pope and Young, they were 20-30” bigger than the minimums.

Opening day in the northern zones was several days earlier

than where I had spent most of my time concentrating my efforts, so I decided to make a quick scouting trip up there with the plan on getting a few extra days in the field before coming back to pursue the bachelor herds I’d already found. Knowing the bucks I already found were likely to stay in one location if undisturbed, and eager to get out hunting, I headed north in hopes to luck out and find some quality bucks. Although I had found nothing of the caliber that I already had in the south, my hopes were still high that I could get a trophy buck and I opted to be back up in the zone for the earlier opening day.

August 24th arrived quickly and it was the day before the northern opener. I frantically packed up all of my gear and hit the road north. After five short hours of driving, I was pulling into the eastern slopes of the mountain range which I would call home for the next several days. With a couple hours of daylight left, I quickly set up camp and rushed out to glass a few of the spots I had seen deer during my scouting trip.

It did not take long as multiple groups of mule deer had filled my binoculars. Unable to make out specific antlers, I mounted my spotting scope on to my tripod and began dissecting the hill side. Unfortunately, both herds had several small bucks as well as lots of does and fawns - nothing that would be worth heading after the following morning. I continued searching for deer with the last few minutes of light but was only able to locate elk and sheep – both of which I had a tag for, but nothing that met the minimum horn/antler restrictions for the area.

Opening morning had come quickly as my alarm clock went off, abruptly waking me up. Having been unable to locate any specific deer the night before, I opted to drive to a vantage point and spend the whole morning sitting and glassing the area in hopes to catch a buck before it went into its bedding area for the heat of the day. Once again, small bucks, does, elk and sheep was all I was able to locate. I’d hiked, drove and glassed like a mad man, seeing very little sign of big bucks. This had continued on for the entire duration of the trip. Needless to say, I came home empty handed from that trip. It was time to go back to work for a few days before the southern opener.

Once again, the time seemed to fly by and before I knew it, it was the night before the southern opening day. Luckily, this time the drive was a little closer and I was able to head out after work, get into the area the bucks lived and still get some glassing in before dark.

It didn’t take long and the bucks were once again in my sights.

For some reason, a few of the “usual” bunch were missing. This was not good since the bigger buck was gone. Did someone come in early and poach it? This seemed strange to me since all the other bucks were still together in the exact same area as earlier in the summer. If they would have been pressured into moving, they all would have left – or so I thought.

The group that still remained in the usual location still had a Pope and Young cIass buck with them but I did not want to settle for smaller this early in the season, knowing that there should still be a few bigger bucks in the area. I continued to search the surrounding basins, ridges, and treelines in search for the bigger bucks. Hunting hard for the remainder of the trip, I was unable to find the bigger mule deer. Hopes still high, I made arrangements to return in a few days with my hunting partner to see if we would could get him a mule deer buck.

Having only ever shot a two point with his bow, he would be more than happy with any respectable mule deer.

Driving into the area in the moonlight, we had noticed a few bucks off in the distance. Although we could not make out exact size due to lack of light, we decided to stick around this area in hopes that one of us would be able to connect on one of these deer. We were able to still get a good view of the bucks as the sun broke the horizon and one was definitely a shooter by my standards and several of the other bucks, my partner would be more than happy with.

Due to the fact that there was a larger buck in the group, my partner opted to let me have the first stalk knowing they were in a tough spot to stalk, and he was comfortable shooting at much shorter distances than I was. I strapped on my release, grabbed my bow and headed off towards the deer. A clearing was between me and the brush that the deer had fed into which allowed me to close the distance to within 100 yards in a matter of minutes.

As I began to creep within the bucks comfort zone, a smaller three point became nervous and knew something was not quite right. I remained motionless for several minutes until he decided there was no threat and continued feeding with the other bucks. I was 85 yards from the biggest buck as he fed away from me. Unfortunately, all of the other bucks were between the big buck and I which made it nearly impossible to get closer. Waiting for what seemed like an eternity, the deer had finally fed out of the way so I could continue to sneak within range.

Yard by yard, I crept over and under the dead fall until I managed to get within 58 yards of the buck. This was at the upper end of my comfort range but I was unable to get any closer. Having practiced this shot hundreds of time at the range, I decided that it was now or never. Drawing back I settled my 60 yard pin dead center in his chest cavity. Next thing I know, the arrow had connected and the buck ran over the crest of the hill and down towards the creek. I had finally done it!

With the adrenalin still flowing through my body, I made my way back to my hunting partner to tell him the news and gather all the packs and cameras to deal with the buck. After a few quick high fives and congratulations, we made our way to where I had last seen the buck. While only finding very minimal blood, we decided to give it a bit more time before going any further.

Time had passed and once again, we were on the blood trail. We had followed it right down to the creek bed and then it suddenly stopped. We were still 50 yards from the water line

so I did not think he had crossed. We glassed and looked for any sign when my partner had caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye.

The buck was there but still alive. I quickly nocked another arrow and shot another one into his vitals.

This time the buck jumped ran across the creek and stopped broadside. Knowing he was going to expire, but not wanting to give any room for error, I shot once more. This time he was finished. The buck had ran another ten yards and piled up at the base of a pine tree. It was over.

Rushing over to get our hands on it, we both could not believe it. The opposite of ground shrinkage!

Ecstatic with the deer I had harvested I spent a few minutes, reliving the last couple hours, still in shock that it had actually come together after all the work I had put into it. A brief photo session followed and we made short work of de-boning the buck and packing him back to the truck.

My main goal for the hunting season was completed in the first couple weeks but I still had a pocket full of tags and was eager to continue on what proved to be one of my best hunting seasons to date. Never did I think I would be able to start it out with a trophy Pope and Young mountain mule deer.

D

ROPTIN

E

BY: SETH YLINIEMI

Seth Yliniemi of Detroit Lakes, Minnesota with the exceptional buck he called simply ‘Drop Tine’. He had been hunting his family farm for 24 years and had never seen anything like this legendary buck. It took him two years of trying, but he was finally able to close the deal. The defining feature of the buck, besides the huge typical frame, is 25 6/8” of abnormal points highlighted by the long droptine near the end of the left beam. Both antlers net over 83” and after only 3 7/8” of deductions, the Minnesota Monster has a net score of 208 4/8”.

2011

T

he story of the buck that we nicknamed simply “Drop Tine” started after capturing him on a trail camera in late summer of 2011. I usually put out cameras in late July to start taking inventory of the local bucks for the upcoming bow season that starts in Mid-September. The northern Minnesota family farm that I have hunted for 24 years with my Dad and two brothers (and last couple of years with my own kids, nieces and nephews) consists of over 300 acres with a mix of field, woods and lowlands. There usually are a couple of different bachelor groups of bucks that show up on either end of the property that is separated by a 40 acre field. I have been utilizing two different cameras to capture these groups.

Much to my surprise, in late August of 2011, the buck started to show up on camera. I never imagined such a monster of a buck would show up on the property! The buck in velvet had a drop tine on his right side and a decent main frame.

We estimated him to be about 4 ½ years old. We had never had a drop tine buck on camera, or had ever seen one on the property before, so his nick name was an easy choice, “Drop Tine”.

Unfortunately, shortly after getting pictures of him, while

shedding his velvet, he managed to break off the drop tine. He still was on the top of the hit list that year but the intrigue was slightly reduced without the drop.

I went through bow season without seeing him. After hunting hard throughout the rifle and muzzleloader seasons, the season ended without a single encounter. He seemed to completely vanish and had me doubting my chances of taking the Monarch of a buck. He did not even show up on trail camera for the latter portion of the season. Thankfully, we did not get any reports from the neighbors about taking a buck of a matching description so we were confident that he made it through the season. The winter of 2011-2012 was very mild with little snow so we knew that the chances of him surviving were very good.

2012 I have never had very good luck shed hunting but I brought out my sons and tried a few different times to find Drop Tine’s sheds. We had a few great days tromping around in the woods, but were not able to locate his sheds. Knowing my history with shed hunting, I thought there was still a good chance Drop Tine was still around.

Fast forward to summer trail camera season and it didn’t take long to confirm Drop Tine’s existence. He showed up in early August and didn’t disappoint! He was now a true giant and he had developed the long drop tine on his left side. I was amazed with how much he blew up from the previous year and was determined to try my best at harvesting him. There was no doubt he was at least 5 ½ years old now and was definitely the focus of all of my hunting efforts. A buddy and I scored him off his pictures and estimated him to be in the upper 180’s with a huge main frame and long drop tine. That clearly made him the biggest buck ever to show up on the property. The excitement level was the highest it had ever been for bow season, and

“It did not seem to matter what I tried, I could not even get a glimpse of Drop Tine!”

2011

all I could think about was his pictures!

Trail cameras were positioned and repositioned to try to figure out Drop Tines travel routes. We tried to do everything we could to determine when and if he was on his feet during daylight. His travel route was pretty consistent but he never showed during daylight hours. That made it difficult to figure out when and where to bow hunt, but didn’t deter me from getting in the stand. There was one other mature buck named “Big 9” roaming the woods. He was in the 140 class and would have been hard to let go if I was lucky enough to have an encounter with him during the archery season. I bow hunted two or three times a week when my schedule would allow, but Seth and his son with the 11 pointer Seth took earlier in the year while hunting together. A memory neither of them will ever forget!

2012

felt like I should have lived in the woods to increase my odds.

By mid-October, after no sightings from the stand, the trail cameras stopped producing images of Drop Tine as well. I was getting a little discouraged and beginning to think that 2012 was going to end up much the same of 2011 with the big buck staying hidden from all the hunters in the area. Figuring the pre-rut had started, I thought he must have changed his patterns. In late October, I switched up my hunting tactics and started using a decoy and scents. My tactics worked on a few smaller bucks which helped to keep me entertained while in the stand. It did not seem to matter what I tried, I could not even get a glimpse of Drop Tine! With rifle hunting fast approaching, I knew my odds of catching up to Drop Tine were dropping. The woods where I hunt would soon be crawling with many hunters including the potential of five grandkids. I was hoping someone would get a crack at him, and was very excited at the thought of one the kids having an opportunity to take him.

Opening morning of rifle hunting always comes with a lot of excitement. This year was extra special because I also had the opportunity to bring my nine year old son with me. We arrived at the stand a good hour before light. After about an hour and a half my son was ready to leave. We hadn’t seen anything yet but I kept telling him that we have to be patient and that we’d leave in a half hour. That conversation went on for a while until it was closer to 9am. By then I couldn’t take the chatter much longer. Thankfully, a small buck came out of the swamp and ran around the bottom of the oak hill I have my stand on. The buck stopped in every shooting lane to check us out. That got my son’s attention quick. We heard more noise in the swamp except this time it was coming right up the hill towards us. This time it was a bigger buck and a doe and they stopped about 20 yards in front of the stand looking back down into the swamp. I had this buck on the trail camera and had passed him up bow hunting as well. Knowing he wasn’t on the hit list and that he had a lot of potential I was content watching him walk by until I looked over at my son’s wide eyes saying “shoot”! After contemplating taking the shot for a bit, the buck took off and headed down one of my shooting lanes

and then stopped about 60 yards from us, quartering away. It was now or never so I put the scope on him and squeezed the trigger. The buck ran about 40 yards and toppled over. I immediately had regrets until I looked back at my son’s big smile and even wider eyes and knew it was a story we’ll share forever!

That buck was a 6x5 or 11 point 3 ½ year old that scored in the mid 130’s and currently is in my son’s room as a European mount. He is very proud of it and is something special that we will always remember, so I do not have any regrets on pulling the trigger that day.

Earlier that same morning my nephews managed to take two other bucks off of the same property. The next day came with two more bucks and a button buck were taken by the party, including my 11 year old daughters and niece’s first deer!

As a party we had taken six deer over the opening weekend.

We spent more time field dressing, dragging, hanging and skinning than actual hunting. Drop Tine had slipped by without even a sighting. Due to Minnesota allowing party hunting, my hunt wasn’t over. I hunted Monday but had to work Tuesday that week. My brother was also hunting and sat in my stand Tuesday afternoon. He called that night to inform me that he had seen “Big 9” but held off; hoping Drop Tine was close as well. As a result of my brother’s report, I was thinking a hot doe was in the area and I couldn’t wait to get back to my stand! I knew that it would take something different to get Drop Tine up and moving during shooting light, and a hot doe may be the key.

It had rained a little over night, so that Wednesday morning was a little damp and cool. I headed out to my stand and arrived right at shooting light that morning. Due to the damp conditions the leaves were not very loud, but as I tried to quietly sneak along, it still seemed they were just loud enough to alert every squirrel in the area. I settled in the stand and had a good feeling about the day. After 45 minutes of being in the stand, I was daydreaming and listening to the squirrels. Then I heard what sounded like something bigger on the next ridge over. I then caught a glimpse of what I knew was a big bodied deer so I got the gun ready on the shooting lane it was heading towards.

Within seconds the beast was in the shooting lane and there was no hesitation after seeing nothing but bone! I steadied the cross hairs behind the shoulder and squeezed the trigger. The buck spun around to head back where it came from while I reloaded. I was ready to take another shot when I heard him crash down and thrash around. I couldn’t believe what had happened in that moment, after pursuing him all season!

Within seconds, my brother sent me a text asking if I had shot. I responded, “Pretty sure it’s Drop Tine, but will give him time.” I knew he was down but I had to take time to calm myself down. After I regained my composure and felt like I could safely get out of the stand, I headed down the hillside to where I shot him. I ran into the blood trail about 70 yards away and started to follow it. I took a couple of steps and looked up the ridge and saw nothing but rack.

At that point it was confirmed that it was Drop Tine and

that I wasn’t dreaming. I got up to him and had to pick my jaw off the ground for there was no ground shrinkage. I called my brother. He was hunting just a couple hundred yards away and it didn’t take him long to join in the celebration. After many field photos my brother headed back to the truck to get dad and my other brother. I was planning to field dress him while waiting but couldn’t stop shaking so I called my wife and buddy to share the news. When my dad and brothers got back the celebration continued. My brother had no problem putting his tag on this giant. I was very grateful to share the experience with all of them. The season of 2012 will be hard to beat but I’ll have fun trying!

Drop Tine is by far the biggest buck taken on the property.

Previously, the biggest buck was one I took off the same stand in 2006. That one was a big 8 pointer that scored right at 140” with a 20” inside spread. After the 60 day drying period “Drop Tine” was scored by official Boone and Crocket measurer Curt Kozitka from the Detroit Lakes area. He scored 208-4/8 net; 212-3/8 gross with 19 scorable points, 26”+ main beams, 14”+ G2s, 12” G3s and plenty of character! It's truly amazing how big they can get when they grow to full maturity!

e true! .dreams do com .. m a R ll a D er is first ev Brad Fry with h

My First I

can still see that pure white ram sky lined like it was yesterday. It was the first Dall sheep I ever laid eyes on. The wilderness back drop captivated my imagination, I was instantly hooked.

I wasn’t on my first sheep hunt, not even on my way to my first sheep hunt. Rather, I was looking at the cover of a now deceased Canadian hunting magazine, which I still have at home to this day, and every summer I religiously pull it out to gaze at that very same ram that started it all, so many years ago.

Growing up on the prairies I wasn’t exactly introduced to sheep hunting at an early age. Waterfowl and whitetails were the name of the game in my neck of the woods, but something clicked in my mind when I saw that white sheep standing on his rocky look out. From that day forward I pledged I would one day hunt those regal rams of the north.

A few short years later my big break came. I was working for a PH.D student, tracking radio collared skunks, for a Ducks Unlimited project. I had just walked into our, “sweet” smelling camp, when I received a call from a horseback Outfitter in the N.W.T. Apparently one of his guides had broken his arm and they needed a replacement ASAP. Since I had sent a letter begging for a job a few months prior, my number came up, as all the qualified guides had already been working for months.

The next thing I knew I was finished with the Skunk study and on a Twin Otter flying over the McKenzie Mountains trying to contain my excitement.

Landing at base camp I was immediately hit between the eyes with reality. If there was ever a time in my life I had felt more out of place than I did right then, I couldn’t remember it. Forty two horses, five guides, two wranglers and one unimpressed Outfitter busily went about their duties in hopes of pulling out of camp before dark. This new green horn standing before them wasn’t at all impressive. I didn’t have a clue what to do. I often say; if a bus, a plane, or a chopper would have come by at that moment I would have been on it!

Thankfully, over the next three days, my hunter and I were able to follow the Outfitter and his hunter around, soaking in all the information I could. The hunting part came natural….if you can hunt, you can hunt. The challenging part was everything else. Spending a couple hours every morning wading through creeks and crawling over deadfall looking for

the 20 horses I was responsible for was an eye opening way to start the day to say the least. Learning what ground was horse friendly and what ground wasn’t often came at the expense of the horses…. and learning how to free a horse submerged in a bog was certainly a new experience for me! All in all though, I welcomed the steep learning curve and if that is what it took to hunt Dall rams, then that is what I was going to do. Eventually, I earned enough respect through hard work and stubbornness, and was handed the reins half way through the hunt.

My hunter and I left camp the next morning on my first official sheep hunt, full of anticipation and ready for adventure, and adventure is what we got. A couple hours out of camp, and right out of the saddle, we spotted two sheep bedded above us in the rocks. We quickly tied up and found them in our binoculars. Both not only appeared legal, which at the time was ¾ curl or over 8 years old, but looked to be past full curl. We came up with a game plan as both rams lazily walked out of sight. Instead of taking the patient, more experienced route, I chose the go get em’ attitude and off we went straight at them.

A very long story short, six hours later I found myself still side hilling around the steep mountain bowl in hopes of catching up with the now spooked rams. Fortunately, my hunter was in excellent shape and as new to sheep hunting as I was and unaware of our poor approach….sometimes ignorance is bliss!

Might I also add, at the beginning of the hunt my actual hunting boots were mysteriously packed with the other groups gear, so all I was left with for footwear were some black rubber moccasins I had planned to use for camp shoes. Today, my well aged feet cringe at the prospect of having to do it now, but at the time, nothing was going to keep me from my first ram.

A few miles of side hilling the steep shale slope eventually brought us to a large hogs back that split the deep rocky bowl in two. Earlier, we had watched both rams drop over this very ridge. Although at the time, we had been a good mile behind them, we were confident they were just over the top of the ridge as we hadn’t spotted them coming out in either direction. Taking off our packs, binoculars at the ready, we prepared for a shot. I had my hunter chamber a round and put his gun on safety. I took a step, and glassed below. As I slowly broke over the crest, a ram simply stood up 50 yards below us!

Panic stricken, I fumbled with my binoculars to find the ram

Brad resetting a shoe on ‘Ol Rip

broadside. Trying to count growth rings through my shaking glass, I was nervously confident he was over 8 years old. My hunter couldn’t see the ram, and his scope was now fogged up from the light rain that began to fall. We franticly tried to wipe his scope clear, first, with my sleeve, then with some crumpled wet Kleenex; can you say panic! Thankfully, the relaxed ram was in a trance as he continued to stand broadside, seemingly without a care in the world and unaware of his potential doom.

Then, just as the scope was usable, a loose rock tumbled from our feet alerting the ram. It was too late! At the sound of the bullet slamming into the ram’s shoulder he crumpled and began smashing into the huge boulders as he catapulted towards the distant creek bottom below. Then, the other ram stood up.

“Oh, oh”, I thought.

This other ram looked huge! I tried to down play it but I couldn’t help but watch this second ram make a sluggish retreat. He appeared to be extremely heavy horned and well past full curl as he walked straight away, eventually disappearing over a close ridge and into my memory bank forever. Had we made a mistake? Had we shot the wrong ram? Both original rams were legal…or so I thought.

My anticipation was now at a fevered pitch. I couldn’t wait to reach the ram, but at the same time, my anxiety over his size was uncomfortable at best. I just kept telling myself, “as long as he is legal...as long as he is legal”. Yet, when I replayed the events, I was positive he was old enough and more than certain he met the length requirements of ¾ curl. Nevertheless, I was relieved to finally reach the ram, to see in fact, he was more than legal.

After the “grip & grins” and the butchering of the 10 year old ram were complete, we began our two hour decent back to the horses. On the way down my not so quality footwear began to give me some grief, as the jagged rocks cut into my exposed feet. I tried to distract my mind by replaying the hunt over and over. We hadn’t exactly pulled off a classic stalk, but I did stick with it not giving up, and was eventually rewarded.

Lesson learned. Now, with light fading and a four hour ride back to camp, I wondered just how I was going to find my way back in the dark.

After tightening up the cinches, I led my horse named Rip out of the stunted timber and pointed him in the direction of camp. My heavy pack swayed back and forth with each of Rip’s steps, as I soon found out, riding with an 80 lb pack full of sheep meat wasn’t very comfortable. The sun was now behind the grey rocky cliffs that framed both sides of the eroding river bank we were now riding on. If we continued along this small river it would lead us directly to camp. The only problem was, we had crossed this river at least ten times on our way down, in broad daylight. I was about to get my first “hands on” lesson in traveling in the dark.

It became quite clear that Rip and I were on a different page.

He fought me from the start. If I wanted to go one way he wanted to go the other. By this time my hunter was asking lots of questions. How big do you think my ram is? How much further is camp? Do you know the way back? Will they be waiting up for us? All great questions, but when you don’t know any of the answers it gets old in a hurry. I tried to imply confidence with my generalized answers and eventually I think the highly educated Doctor got the hint, as he became ghostly quiet.

It was now pitch black. Prior to darkness, I was able to make out the odd horse track from our route down earlier in the day. Now though, it was obvious, I would have to fully trust old Rip if we were going to find our way back. I completely relaxed the reins and he confidently powered forward. I wasn’t convinced he could do it just yet, but as the miles piled up, and with many successful river crossings, A typical ‘Sheep Pole” after a sucessful I eventually had tohunt in the McKenzie mountains of the tal confidence Rip N.W.T. knew exactly what he was doing. Lesson learned!

The distant glow of the Coleman lantern gave camps location away; I can still see that faint glow in the back of mind to this day!

All the day’s earlier uncertainties were now being replaced with one emotion.

Pride!

Pride is

A typical horse camp in the Northwest Territories. “Home sweet home�.

what I felt, as we strolled into camp sitting tall in the saddle as my fellow guides came out to great us in the black of the night.

The immediate congratulations and back slapping confirmed we had taken a good ram and confirmed my acceptance into the

A big Alberta ram in typical Bighorn habitat.

Photo by Rod Sinclair

outfit. To know I could do it, start to finish, gave me the powerful confidence needed to continue on with what I dreamed of doing. That day, I became a sheep guide.

Bobby Brown with his perfectly typical archery mule deer he took in 2012. He had been hunting a big non-typical when his friend Colin spotted this beautiful typical and the stalk was on. You will not see a more even deer than Bobby’s trophy that netted just over 170�.

PERFECTION BY: BOBBY BROWN

S

eptember first has always been a big day to look forward to; countless hours with dad scouting throughout the summer taught us well. We had made, and broken, every rule in the book for hunting mule deer during the four years we had to hunt together before his unfortunate passing. We had made new connections and various friends throughout the years. On this particular year I didn’t have a lot of time to scout and hunt before heading back to Alberta for college. A few mornings before the opener, a close friend of mine, Colin Kostiuk, and I had picked out three or four really good mule deer bucks we hoped to get an arrow into. A deer that had eluded me last year on opening day had started showing up in the same draw. He was a heavy, old, mature non-typical freak! Needless to say, he was something worth pursuing. Colin had his eyes set on a non-typical buck as well. We were confident in our chances of shooting a couple good mule deer.

As the sun started creeping over the hills, we had both already been at our spots for well over a half an hour to get a glance at our early morning quarry. We split up to increase our chances, because our target deer were in two separate areas. As light started to shine over the hill, I could see headlights in the distance. They slowly crept along until the truck parked close to me, and he was glassing the same hill. The hunter in the truck was looking for elk, which was fine by me. Fifteen minutes after legal light a couple rifle shots rang out from further into the hills, and the buck I had been watching out for had not shown up. I traveled further down the road to check out a couple more hotspots that have held some great deer over the last week or so. Not surprisingly, there was a giant bull elk downed just off the grid. It was the bull the man that parked beside me had been waiting for, after taking some pictures and congratulating the hunters it was back to game time.

Colin had been set up in a good spot on a hillside a couple miles from me. The buck he had been awaiting presented himself in the distance. As he watched the deer, something wasn’t right. The buck had walked around the hill and seen something it must not have liked because it bounced off into the distance before walking casually over the last hill. This was the last time either one of us saw that deer, perhaps it will be another one of next year’s prospects. After an hour of legal light, Colin motioned to me from deep in the hills. He indicated that he had seen a buck in the area for me to put a stalk on. I took a detour downwind a kilometer or so to prevent getting winded. Colin explained what had happened with the buck he was watching and that we could go in later in the afternoon to find him if time allowed. I had a set goal in mind of a buck to shoot and wasn’t sure about this new buck Colin had spotted, because I hadn’t seen him. Colin was positive I would not be disappointed and I took his word for it and decided to go ahead, all I knew was it is a very clean typical buck and it was bedded in a small draw, out of sight.

The buck had been bedded for approximately a half hour with his antlers as low as possible. Without getting closer, it was impossible to know if he was asleep or not. Given the timing and the knowledge of deer patterns in the area, we would likely have about an hour and a half before the buck would get up to browse. We analyzed the situation at about 150 yards with the spotting scopes. The buck had positioned himself in the far end of a tear drop section of buck brush with downwind being the narrow opening where the deer had entered.

Bobby and Colin with the beautiful buck shortly after he hit the ground.

We opted out of trying to film the hunt due to the poor visibility through the vegetation. We thought only one guy going in to try and get a shot would increase my chances. I made my way slowly through the bush in just my socks, looking with my binoculars every few steps to make sure the buck didn’t notice any movement or get up to feed. Time seemed to slow down, almost stop when you are playing the waiting game for a big buck. After a fairly quiet, but acrobatic stalk through some shrub, I found an ideal spot to settle in and wait for a shot. I ranged him and dialed in at 28 yards. I looked back at Colin to get the thumbs up; we knew I had a great chance of harvesting the buck now that I was in the perfect position.

Thank goodness Colin doesn’t snore, because he eventually dozed off watching through a pinhole, while we both waited for it to come together. I had seen the tips of the antlers move at approximately the time we had figured, only to be disappointed. The movement had given me a surge of adrenaline I could not get rid of until later. The buck had sat by some palatable brush and didn’t have the urge to stand up to feed. So when his head went down for round two of napping I knew it was going to be a long, long wait. On the third hour it all came together. I looked back to see that Colin woke up before the buck. I was more than ready, having replayed the shot in my head 100 times. I pictured him getting up, turning broadside, and giving me the perfect shot which I had already made in my head so many times. The deer got up and looked around, I hid until the moment was right and the buck finished scanning the area. I drew back, but then the deer turned and walked towards me! After a couple minutes at full draw I had to let down, as much as it was killing me to shoot. The wind was good and he kept coming closer, I ranged him and pinned him at 23 yards. Finally, he turned broadside, head heavily into the bush with nothing but his body exposed, I stood up, put the pin on the soft spot and squeezed the trigger. He ran to the first hill and tried going around midslope, and it wasn’t long before his head turned and he looked out into the distance one last time before lying down. To me there is no greater sight than a big mule buck on the ground on native range!

Colin and I basically tackled each other in excitement after watching this all go down. We knew he was a heck of a buck and my biggest to date. There was nothing but sheer excitement walking up to the buck that seemed to grow bigger with each step; he was all that I could ask for! This buck is probably the cleanest typical mule deer I will ever shoot and my second full velvet deer. The hunt was very enjoyable and

making the usual rounds with family and friends only adds to the excitement and thrill of the sport. I am fortunate to have great family and friends and do what I love to pursue with phenomenal support. My goal is to work hard to help preserve our resources for future generations as a hunter and a conservationist.

Brian Russet with one of the highest scoring whitetails taken in Ontario in 2012. The typical 6x6 had a gross score of 187 1/8�, and even after some heavy deductions, still easily made the Boone and Crockett record book with a net score of 176 4/8�.

“HIM” BY: BRIAN RUSSETT

I

t all started in late summer of 2011. It was my first glimpse into a new piece of ground. I knew from the first time I set foot on the property that is was a true hunting paradise. It also happened to be the first time I saw ‘HIM’! Backing up a few weeks, I had been talking with a friend of the family who goes by the name of Chopper. Chopper had suggested that I go see an old friend of his who owned this 300 acre parcel of land. He knew how much I loved to hunt in the fall and also to walk the forest in the spring looking for dropped treasures of big whitetail antlers.

So one day after work I made my way over to this unknown property where I met the owner and asked for permission to walk his property. At first he was very reluctant, and explained that he had only given permission to one other bow hunter to hunt his land. After talking for quite a while, like a shift in weather, his mind changed. Within the hour, he was giving me a tour of his property. On our way back to the house, driving on the old tractor worn trails through the fields, is when we saw him. To be honest I’m not sure if Percy, the property owner, saw him or not. All I know is that I did and I could not believe my eyes! The massive, tall 10 pointer was perfectly symmetrical. He stood at the edge of the bush just watching us cruise through his land. Right away, I knew this deer would score well into the 160’s if not more. I was pumped to say the least, and I could not think of anything else for the next few days. I wanted to go home and gear up and start chasing this deer immediately, but I knew a big mature buck like this had to be approached cautiously.

This particular property had it all, including vast fields of clover, swamp, thick cedar cover and about 100 acres of pure hardwood. I decided to set up down around the edge of the swamp where there was a wellworn trail that looked like it had been used for years.

It almost looked like trail that cattle would make! I had only limited time to hunt throughout the season and probably sat in the stand half a dozen times. Each time I saw six or seven deer, but never a buck, and

I did not have any encounters with the big fella. I was also hunting on my inlaw’s property which holds some really good deer. I ended up killing a nice, 120”, 8 pointer near the end of the season, on their property.

Now throughout the off season of 2012, I couldn’t get the big 10 pointer off my mind and was pretty sure no one had harvested the perfectly typical monarch. This gave me hope and got me pondering a new setup and location to hang my stand.

I figured for this season I would move out of the swamp, and setup watching a hydro line cut separating the swamp and the hardwoods. This stand was going to be setup for muzzleloader season starting on November 5th where I would be able to squeeze off a shot up to 200 yards away in all directions. I thought it would increase my odds because of the visibility, and also give me a chance to observe more deer and hopefully gain a better understanding of the property and the local deer herd.

On November 4th, I planned to go for an afternoon scouting trip to see what might be in store for the upcoming week.

I remember actually thinking of not even taking my cross

bow with me, because this was more of a smoke pole stand, but then I remembered what my dad used to always say to me about always being prepared because you just never know.

Since my dad had put me on a lot of good deer over the years, and was the one who got me hooked on deer hunting, I made sure I listened to his voice in my head. So off to the stand I went.

It was a very cold and windy day with the wind blowing from the northwest. Since the rut was starting to heat up a bit, I decided to hang three cotton swabs soaked with Tinks 69 synthetic lure, hoping these scents would help to mask my scent in case any deer ended up on the downwind side of me.

About two hours had gone by and all I had seen was four does filling their bellies with the uncut hay out in the distant fields.

With about 45 minutes of daylight left, a loud “snaaap” came from the swamp to the east. It was loud enough that I knew it was a big animal so I kept my attention focused in that direction and that’s when I saw ‘HIM’. I couldn’t believe it! It was the big 10 I had seen a year before but now a year bigger and it looked like he was a lot bigger! He was on a mission as he came out of the swamp, with his nose to the ground like an old coon dog walking straight at me, downwind of my hanging scents. All I could see was antlers!

I knew that wasn’t what I should be focusing on. I kept telling myself not to look at the antlers but I couldn’t help it! As he made

his way closer and closer, I raised my Excalibur exomag loaded with a carbon bolt, lumenok and a 100grain G5 montec carbon steel broadhead. At about 40 yards he turned broadside for me, still walking at a steady pace, so I placed the crosshairs on his front shoulder and squeezed the trigger. The bolt launched and the monster buck did too!

It all happened so fast that I wasn’t sure of a hit, “Did I just miss him?” I thought to myself. I watched the buck run up the hydro line, and cut back into the swamp with his tail high in the air as if he was saying “See ya later, buddy”. Completely confused at what just happened I crawled down out of my stand and searched for my arrow. The arrow had deflected off a stone on the ground and landed about 20 yards away. Thankfully, the bolt was outfitted with a lumenok, because chances are I would never have found it where it landed in the thick golden rods. When I walked up to my bolt, I found that it was covered tip to tip and dark red blood.

“Thank goodness!!!” I muttered to myself; as if I didn’t know all along!

My next move was to back out. I knew I had a long walk back to my truck so there was no better time to call my dad and then my buddy Claude to tell them that I just shot a giant! I also knew I needed the help of my hunting buddy Claude to help find this mature whitetail. I knew he was hit hard, but also knew he would

likely find the thickest, nastiest place to bed down. Claude met up with me within the hour and we headed back towards the swamp where I had last seen him.

It didn’t take long before we found a good blood trail, which got heavier and heavier as it lead us closer and closer to where I had last seen the buck, and wouldn’t you know it, there he was! The biggest buck I had ever seen was lying on the ground only feet from my original tree stand location in the swamp. I was so glad I had someone to share this experience with because I know this was a buck of a lifetime! The bucks’ official Boone and Crocket score was 176 4/8" net, and his gross score was 187 1/8".

Brian and his family with his big buck and some of the hardware and prizes he took home after taking his buck to a number of shows in his area.

Preparing for Bowhunting Success

BY: CAM JONES

I

t goes without saying that every bow hunter out there right now is thinking about, heck dreaming about, opening day!

Most bowhunters tend to be an obsessive bunch when it comes to the kick- off of the season. Don’t believe me? The countdown app on my phone that reads 32 days 19hrs 31 mins 56secs as I write this would disagree with you!

Yes the mental preparation is the very first thing to kick in, quickly followed by a shift in attention to our equipment.

Making the assumption that your bow will be shooting bulls eyes, because it was before you put it away, is a big mistake.

Especially if it has been awhile since you last shot it. This is where good preparation should begin. The fact is that things can happen to that bow while it’s not in use. For example, it is under constant pressure, and string stretch can occur. This can effect things like timing and peep rotation – both problems that will affect the bows efficiency and, as a direct result, could impact your success in the field. Even a d-loop that has served you faithfully all last season could be thinking about unexpected retirement if left un-noticed. The bottom line is all of these gremlins could really cost you on opening day. So before you knock the rust off your shooting form (hopefully your well past this point!) save yourself some frustration and eliminate your equipment from the equation for poor shooting. Take your bow in to a pro shop if you need too and have them give it a basic tune, which will address all of these issues.

Once you have the peace of mind that your equipment is in top shape then you can take full credit for lousy shooting, or great shooting! This will save you valuable time and allow you to focus on making those shooting form corrections that may be needed to get your ‘A’ game back!

For shooting practice to take on real value you need to make it as real as possible, while paying attention to all the details.

This can be accomplished by breaking out of the rut of ‘range style’ shooting – where you’re making standing shots in well lit areas. Let’s face it, a real world bowhunting scenario will rarely find you in that position, so be sure to mix up your shooting practice with some good variety. Shooting from behind cover, on your knees, sitting in a blind or tree stand will all pay off huge when the time comes. Lighting as mentioned should be a real consideration as well, since key times for shot opportunities often play out at first or last light – be prepared for the difference that can make by taking in some dawn or dusk shooting sessions. If tree stands or rolling terrain are a factor in your hunt methods or areas be sure to understand the difference this will make on your point of impact and add that to the mix

in your shooting.

While shooting in shorts and t-shirt is great, now would be the time to gear up! Go ahead and put on all the gear you will be wearing in the field, including most importantly how your bow will be set-up. Things like hats, bino holders, face masks and even the forearm fit of your hunting clothes may find a way to interfere with that perfect shot! If it’s new gear this year, this is a vital check for sure! Now is the time to work out the bugs and find this stuff out now, not when you are drawing back on the buck of a lifetime. If your bowhunting means you hunt with your quiver attached and loaded with all but one arrow be sure to practice this way. The simple changes in balance a quiver can make on your bow may surprise you how much it can impact your shot placement – especially at greater distances.

Remember regular shooting and practice shouldn’t stop once the season begins – keep yourself sharp throughout the entire season and you can expect to capitalize on your bowhunting efforts!

As bowhunters we accept the added challenge it presents, so let’s make sure our preparation helps us meet those challenges with success! As we count down the days to our respective opening days, I wish everyone an exciting and successful 2013 bow hunting season!!

“Cam Jones is the owner of Darkhorse Archery and has specialized in arrow design and manufacturing as well as high performance arrow tuning for hunting applications. His current lists of clients include - Jim Shockey, Eva Shockey as well as Cody and Kelsy Robbins”

Use Cam’s tips to ensure you are ready when face to face with your target buck this fall.

A legendary bull elk named ‘Whaletail’. Watch for more updates on this monster in upcoming issues!

Photo by Shawn Danychuk

Travis vs

BY: JASON HAUSER

T

he minutes slowly ticked by as Travis sat silently perched in his treestand, high above the Willamson County hunting ground where he knew a GIANT whitetail roamed. It was now 4pm and things were very quiet.

However, things were about to quickly change for the hunter. A few minutes later, he could hear splashing sounds coming from the creek. The sound was heavy, more than birds or squirrels would make, the hunter slowly turned to see a huge buck knee deep in the water……

Backing up a bit, this was the first year Travis Cockburn used trail cameras on the farm he and his family hunts. What he saw in mid-August of 2011 changed the way the family would hunt come October 1st, the first day of Illinois bow season. As he scrolled through the pictures, there were numerous photos of a giant “Booner” during the summer months. In fact, he was much more than a Booner, he was a giant, massive, incredible non-typical whitetail; the type of deer that most hunters wait their whole lives for, but never get close to. The monster was fittingly nicknamed Ginormica by Travis’s eight year old son.

Travis, his dad, brother, and nephew quickly focused their attention on learning everything they could about the big buck. The only problem was that the only photos gathered were taken between 2-4 am. It was clear that the big buck was equally smart and wary, and getting close to him during shooting light would be not be easy. However, there was one sighting of the monster by a coon hunter in the wee hours of the morning which encouraged the hunters and made them think that perhaps they had a chance.

With all of their focus on killing the book buck, the foursome started making plans for the hunt. At one point in the season, Travis decided to take the shotgun out for a few hunts, and, to his surprise, he connected on a solid nine pointer. The season was just beginning however, and he remained focused

on the now infamous buck, ‘Ginormica’.

Throughout the bow season, Travis saw some Pope and Young class bucks, but no shots were presented. However, he was able to connect on a couple of nice does that made good table fare. By this time he was beginning to get frustrated, there was still no sign of Ginormica. Despite his frustration, Travis continued to spend as much time as possible scouting for the big buck. He knew his only chance of connecting with a smart, wary buck like this was to get to know him and his habits. After relentless scouting and countless hours in the field, he found two main trails that intercepted at a scrape the size of a small Volkswagen. He thought to himself ‘Ginormica had to have made this scrape!”

Thanksgiving Day came and went as Travis searched for a tree suitable for his Summitt Viper Climber Tree Stand. Unfortunately, a few years before, a bad storm toppled most of the trees on the farm, which made finding the perfect tree very difficult. He was only able to find one suitable tree for his climber. The topped out tree was 35-yards from the car size scrape and 20 yards from a nearby creek crossing. It wasn’t perfect, but it was clearly his best option and it was worth a shot!

Deciding not to hunt Thanksgiving Day, Friday and Saturday came and went with heavy rains keeping the hunters at home. Sunday morning, November 27th, arrived and the Cockburn family made their journey to church. Arriving back home, the rain had stopped and Travis had to decide whether to hunt, watch football, or relax for the day. With visions on Ginormica filling his thoughts, he headed out to his newly hung stand. Fortunately for him, hunting won this day.

By the time he headed out the door, it was 2:15 in the afternoon and the rain was all but gone. This would be his first time in the stand by the big scrape. The rain had softened all

Travis Cockburn with the incredible buck he took in 2011. Bases on the big deer are spectacular at 7 1/2” and 8 1/2”. The monster ended up with a net score of 261 5/8”!

of the browned vegetation, and this made the woods deafly quiet. The silence allowed the focused hunter to hear everything. Unfortunately, as he sat in the stand, straining for any sound that may hint at a big whitetail buck sneaking through the woods, he was not hearing anything.

Finally, he spotted a big bobcat. After five minutes of a stare off, Travis was able to wave the cat good-bye without much noise. By this time he was starting to become bored with the lack of action in the area, and began to text his good buddy that was hunting a few miles away. It was now almost 4pm and things were very quiet. However, things were about to quickly change for the hunter.

4:15 arrived with splashing sounds coming from the creek behind and to the left of Travis, the hunter slowly turned to see a huge buck knee deep in the water. He wasn’t sure which buck it was, but he knew that it was a GIANT! Twenty seconds passed before the big buck exited the water and presented a broadside shot at 15-yards. Still not knowing it was Ginormica, Travis settled his sights and released his arrow.

With a loud THUD the arrow hit its mark! He was able to keep an eye on the monster for about 50-yards, before losing sight of him in some thick brush.

Texting his buddy, Travis reported that he thought he may have shot Ginormica. He was fairly certain that the shot was a pass-through, hitting both lungs, with good pink blood on the arrow. He decided to give the buck some time to make sure he was down, so he returned home to spend some time with his family before heading back to track the enormous buck. With the shot being played over and over in his mind, Travis quickly contacted his father and brother reporting the night’s events.

Travis’s father promptly met him at 8:00 p.m. that night to resume the search. About 5 yards from where the buck was shot, a good blood trail was picked up. Excitement quickly ran through the Cockburn family with anticipation of what they might see at the end of the crimson red blood trail.

After losing sight of the monster, Travis was not sure how far he may have gone and did not hear the crash that he was hoping for. As they tracked the buck, they passed the spot where Travis had last saw him. Twenty yards later, and only seventy yards from where the arrow buried deep into the lungs of the giant, the buck known as Ginormica lay on the grass covered ground!

After all these months, the Cockburn hunters were finally able to lay their hands on the incredible deer, and

he was even more impressive on the ground than he was on the trail cameras! The mass was nothing short of incredible, with huge bases, solid mass throughout and non-typical points everywhere! After field-dressing and tagging the brute, the celebration truly began.

With four friends in tow, the five men were able to drag the once-in-a-lifetime buck out of the thickets. With numerous people counting tines, all came up with different numbers.

Finally they agreed on 29 scoreable points. If it was not for a broken G-5 on the left side, it would have been a 30-point buck! With bases measuring 8 ½ inches and 7 ½ inches, it ended up scoring an incredible 261 5/8 inches. The largest tine measured 12 ½ inches, and the smallest mass circumference was 5 ½-inches.

Travis’s persistence paid off, and I cannot think of a more deserving hunter. This deer is truly one of the all-time great deer ever taken in the state of Illinois.

A tremendous northern Saskatchewan whitetail.

BGI’s own Devin Gorder has nine sheds from the old buck. See his story in the following pages.

Hamilton Greenwood photo.

Olivia’s Deer

T

BY: DEVIN GORDER

he first time I saw the buck that would later become known as Olivia’s Deer (OD), he was already a good buck. It was well before the season and I was looking for any excuse to be in the deer woods. So although it was already July, I told myself that I was shed hunting and scouting, although in reality I was just enjoying the summer. I sat down on a log to take in the day when I saw a shadow creeping along the edge of a swamp. As the big deer stepped into an opening, I could see a 160 class rack already taking shape with some distinctive points. I also noticed the swaying belly and knew this would be a deer that I would like to keep track of. Despite setting up trail cameras on the adjacent land, I did not see him again that season. Fast forward a couple years, and a half dozen encounters later, and I again found myself in OD’s core area. It was now February, and I had my young daughter (Olivia) and wife with me…for a ‘quick walk’ in the woods.

‘Quick walk’ which translates to my wife as meaning anything from a 10 minute stroll to a five mile meander. My plan was to shed hunt specifically for his antlers, or even antler, which I hoped would be in the area. An hour later, Olivia and I spotted his big left side right under a pine tree. I could barely believe what I saw and just stood there with her taking it all in, before covering the last few yards to claim the treasure. Another 10 minutes went by before I heard my wife yell, “Here is another one”. I thought “no way!” as Olivia and I covered ground to catch up to where she was. Sure enough the other side was lying there, half buried in the last snowfall.

We had the matched set! I sent the pictures to my friend Chad and he said, ‘Well, that is Olivia’s Deer now’. OD had his name!

After that experience, I began to pay more attention to OD, and spent a lot more time in his area trying to get a glimpse of him. His core area is ‘No Hunting’ ground, although the adjacent land is open to hunting, and gets hunted pretty hard. For years, I ran trail cameras on the adjacent land where I had permission to hunt in hopes that OD would show up, and perhaps I could close the chapter on the buck, but he never showed, not

even on the trail cameras. A few times a year, I would see him, but he would never cross the ‘No Hunting’ boundary, not even during the rut.

He has spent the summer and early fall with a number of different bucks, and they have all come and gone. For a couple years, he spent time with a unique non-typical buck that looked like he had antlers from two different deer. We called him 50/50, but he only lived a couple years. When that deer disappeared, a massive four point moved in, only to perish a few years later in a harsh winter. The deep northern forest is loaded with predators, and it is a difficult life. Wolves regularly pass through the area, and the deep snow and long winters take their toll on the deer herds. Few of the deer ever make it past five years old, but OD is at least eight now, and, based on a July sighting, he is looking like he may make nine!

OD represents everything that we all love about big, whitetail deer and why many people consider them to be the ul-

www.saskbowhunters.ca

timate animal to test ourselves against, as hunters. He has lived a long and full life, has beaten all of the odds, and has provided me with countless enjoyable experiences and some frustration. One particular day that I will never forget, I was hiking through his area shed hunting in March. Most of the bucks had shed, but I had not seen him for a few months so I wasn’t sure if he had or not. I made sure that my trip was in mid-afternoon when most of the deer would be back in the bedding area, and I spent my time along the edges, and in the clear cuts, where the deer spent the nights feeding. I did not want to spook any deer up from their beds during the winter and cause them more stress. As I settled down on the edge of a clearcut, pouring myself a hot drink and unwrapping my sandwich, I noticed something coming out of the thick bedding area and into the cut. Sure enough, it was OD and he was coming right for me! I could see it was him, but something was off. As he worked his way through the thick underbrush I caught a couple glimpses of his head and I could see blood. I thought to myself ‘Oh no, the coyotes are on him’. My heart dropped, but I got my camera ready for a few final shots of the old boy because I knew he probably wouldn’t make the night. As he appeared in the clear-cut and I final-

ly had a good look at him, I could see that he was not injured, but had just freshly dropped an antler and was still bleeding from the base. As I sat there watching him, I was amazed at just how happy I was that he was not injured. He fed along the far side of the cut and then disappeared, but I did not go after his shed that day.

I was not going to risk bumping into him in the dead of winter. A few weeks later, when the snow melted, I went in and picked it up, not more than 20 yards into the thick underbrush where he appeared that day.

I am fairly certain that in his old age, OD will not wander across the line and onto the area where I have access to hunt, but I have not given up. I will be running trail cameras adjacent to his core area again even though my chances are very slim. I am fine with that. To tell you the truth, I am not sure that I would pull the trigger now anyway….

SECOND As told by Daryl Mutrie Written by Phillip Webb

D

arryl Mutrie is a dedicated archer and hunter from southeastern Saskatchewan. When he is not spending time with family or working, you can find him scouting or hunting. He is also no stranger to big mule deer. As it happens, he managed to score on his first archery buck in 2007; a giant 188 inch typical!

Darryl puts in countless hours throughout the summer scouting for mule deer and whitetails, and attributes his success to all the miles he drives and walks in the weeks leading up to the September archery opener.

In the summer of 2010 Darryl found out that he had been drawn for rifle mule deer in his home zone. The news of being drawn motivated him to scout harder and stay out longer, always scanning the fields.

After getting off work on September 5th, he decided to take a detour on his way home because he hadn’t had much luck finding a “shooter” buck. The fields were saturated from the summer rains and not many had been cut due to moisture, which made summer scouting tougher than usual. He recalls the first encounter with his buck “I saw huge flocks of ducks and geese hitting one of the only cut fields in the area, so I decided to have a look”. There was a spike buck on the far side of the field feeding slowly along the edge. He was passed off with a glance as Darryl focused on all the birds landing.

What happened next would make the most seasoned hunter fall apart, the spike moved off and a mass of velvet appeared at the far edge of the field. “It stood there like a statue, a few feet from his afternoon bed”, he remembers. Binoculars glued to his eyes, he stared at the buck until it was too dark to see, still only making out a huge frame. He looked for the big velvet

deer every day before and after work, his binoculars never being out of arms reach in anticipation. On September 11, while driving to his daughter’s birthday party, it happened. There, in plain view, stood the buck that had been keeping him awake at night. Darryl made a mad dash home, hoping that the deer wouldn’t go far into the wet, overgrown fields. “She knew by the look on my face when I got home I had spotted him,” he said, and after getting an approving nod from his spouse and daughter he headed to the backyard to shoot his bow in preparation. On the drive back to where the buck was last sighted, he was feeling confident that he could get his buck on the ground.

Darryl Mutrie from southeast Saskatchewan with his first ever archery buck, a 188” typical, and his 2010 mule deer, a GIANT that scored a staggering 236 2/8”. The typical frame on Darryl’s monster non-typical is equally impressive and stretches the tape at 203 5/8”. Taxidermy work on Darryl’s bucks was done by Mel Wells of Mel’s Taxidermy. See Mel’s ad on Page 57.

Photo by Phil Webb

He thought he even may be able to do it while still getting back to the birthday party in time. He parked about a mile from the buck’s last known position and began his sneak in, constantly checking wind and using his binoculars to check for velvet covered antlers peeking out of the crop. As he got closer to where he guessed the buck was holed up he came to a double fence line. Crawling under the first fence, he glanced up and froze solid. No more than 50 yards ahead stood the giant velvet mule deer looking straight away from him. A few long moments later Darryl could breathe again, as the deer repositioned and lay back down. He slowly continued toward the

deer and ranged him several times, as he hit the 10 yard mark he settled in. Staring at the antler tips he tried to stay as calm and collected as possible, while quietly he clipped his release on the string and waited for the deer to stand. Two smaller deer were just a few yards further than the huge buck Darryl was focused on, and he knew one false move could end his hunt. After waiting for about a half hour the buck stood slightly quartered away. A surprised Darryl drew his bow and settled the pin on the vitals, and released. “I watched in disbelief as the big buck and the two smaller bucks ran across the field and just stood there” he said. He had watched the arrow fly towards the

deer, only to see it skip off the top of his back, sending it flying up in the air and out of sight. He stared through his binoculars and could see he had hit high, slicing the deer’s hide. A small amount of blood appeared to be there, but it was very minimal.

Although he could see the non-fatal wound, he still trailed the blood until it disappeared in the heavy grass and crop. Darryl managed to make it to his daughter’s birthday party in time to cut cake, all the while thinking that he had blown his chance at a once in a lifetime deer.

For the next two weeks Darryl searched the nearby country side looking for the buck, he glassed every shadow and all the nearby fence lines. His relatives and close friends were also helping out, always mindful of the monster velvet buck they had heard so much about. Darryl had used every spare minute he had in search of the buck, putting on countless miles on foot and in his truck. He stalked into bow range of other bachelor groups, waiting for the deer to appear in one and being left disappointed when he wasn’t there. The momentum from the early archery season was slowing down at this point, with no sightings of the buck since he had been wounded. He started to doubt that the monster was still around the area, thinking that he had moved, or worse, had been taken down by coyotes.

It struck like lightning on the 23rd of September. While out driving about two miles away from where he had first shot his buck he spotted him walking into a small coulee surrounded by flax. This time the buck had completely shed his velvet

which was a little disappointing after seeing him in full velvet. He stopped on the side of the road, focusing on the path the deer took through the field into his bed. He sat for a few minutes strategizing in his head, where to sneak and what the wind direction was?. “This is my shot, I’m going to get him,” he thought as he gathered his gear for the walk in. A few moments later Darryl’s brother Geoff and nephew Chase pulled up to his truck. They had been scouting and stumbled on Darryl getting ready to stalk in on his deer. After filling them in on what had happened and his plan, they decided they would stay and watch the action. If it all went like Darryl had hoped it would, they could help with the drag out. Darryl started the stalk in from the small path leading to the coulee, stopping every ten steps to glass and pinpoint the buck. His eyes scanned the grassy slope, focusing on the half white and half dark tangle of horns against the green. As he closed the distance to his buck he noticed more detail than before, non-typical points all over and the closer he got the more there were. He took off his boots at about 100 yards, instantly soaking his feet in the muddy soil of the field. As he edged along the coulee, he slowly watched for movement from the deer, or signs of other deer around it. 50, 35 and finally 20 yards. Sitting so close to a deer that had consumed every spare second of his hunting season so far was a surreal experience for Darryl. He scanned the deer over and over again in utter disbelief. He sat waiting for the monster to wake up from his afternoon nap or reposition his

When you talk about mule deer, Darryl’s buck truly has it all. Long G-4’s, deep forks, huge brow tines, and lots of junk.

body and expose his vitals, “there would be no surprises this time” he thought. As the buck stood, Darryl drew his bow, anchored, and settled the pin behind his shoulder, all the while trying to keep his composure. When he released his arrow, he watched as the vanes disappeared into his vitals and the deer bounded up the coulee. He stood and watched as the buck of his lifetime tipped into the grassy edge, thinking about how fortunate he was to find him again and have the opportunity to hunt him.

Geoff and Chase arrived as Darryl walked up to his buck for the first time. “To say I was excited would be a huge understatement,” he said. “I just couldn’t believe the sheer size of the deer, body size and antlers.” The telltale slice above his shoulders was there and it was clear, this had been the velvet covered monster from weeks earlier. After snapping a few photos Geoff and Chase helped with the 300 yard drag to Darryl’s truck, and he was very thankful they were there to lend a hand. He thought about the entire hunt on the drive home, and how fortunate he was to be able to hunt this deer.

Darryl’s 2010 mule deer scored a staggering 236 2/8” non-typical, with a typical frame measuring 203 5/8”. The buck measures 3” difference side to side typical, and has 4.5” brow tines.

Darryl would like to thank his spouse Kerstin and his kids, Skyler and Bosttin for allowing him to dedicate so much of his time to hunting and scouting. He also thanks Mel Wells Taxidermy for a world class mount and Donald Holinaty for being so quick to score his buck.

Jannie Bischoff of Prince Albert, Saskatchewan with a tremendous, heavy, typical 6x6 whitetail from Northern Saskatchewan. Jannie had been hunting the big buck a year earlier and thought he had closed the deal, only to realize upon recovery that he had shot a different deer! A year later he was able to close the deal. Even though the buck was passed his prime, he is still an incredible specimen and one that any hunter would be very proud to hang his tag on.

TRILOGY BY: JANNIE BISCHOFF

M

y good friend Elliot Chubak introduced me to bow hunting in 2001. He taught me a lot about whitetail hunting. We hunted and went to 3D shoots together until he moved out of province. By the time he left I had enough knowledge to go out and hunt whitetail by myself. Always searching for the big one, I had some success in harvesting some decent bucks with my bow. Although every hunt was special and unique, I just could not locate one of those special bucks that every Saskatchewan hunter wants to see on his trail camera. But things were about to change when Elliot came back to visit his family in 2009. We went for a drive and he took me to an area that looked very promising to him.

I was very skeptical at first because it looked like a good area for bears. I don’t like bears, or wolves, but I decided to hunt the area anyway.

It did not take long before the trail camera showed different bucks and does coming in daily. Every now and again a new buck would show up, getting me all excited and hoping that something bigger was still to come. On November 4th, 2009, I was slowly going through my trail camera pictures, one by one. As I flipped through them, I opened the very first picture of the buck that would keep my thoughts occupied for the next three years! He was a beautiful 5x6 whitetail deer. I never gave him a name. He was just the big buck I was hunting. It was not until the

third year that we started referring to him as Trilogy.

I put as much time as possible into hunting Trilogy that first year. All the trail camera pictures of him were at night. If he was going to show himself once or twice during the day that season I wanted to be there. Just before, and then during the rut, he disappeared. He had been coming in every night previously. Two weeks went by without any pictures of him. I thought he had been shot for sure. Despite that, I decided to go sit in the stand one Sunday morning in late November. There were still no pictures to prove that Trilogy was still alive. I was about to get out of my stand when I heard a deer coming in from straight downwind from me. I found that odd but decided to sit tight and see what happens. As I sat there, I expected the deer to pick up my scent, blow, and run off with every other deer in the area. When the deer came into view, I noticed that it was the buck that was with Trilogy earlier in the season. There was another deer with him, but I could not see him yet! They were beginning to circle away from me, unaware that I was there. I took my doe-in-can and bleated once. I could not believe it when they started working their way back to me again. Then I saw him! It was so unexpected. He looked even better in person! He was slowly working his way towards my shooting lane. I got my bow ready and tried to keep calm but my heart was beating in my throat. When he got into my

2009 shooting lane, he stopped, angling slightly towards me. I waited until his antlers covered his eyes and then I drew my bow.

Halfway through the cycle the 70lb bow felt like a 100lb bow and I paused for a second then finished to full draw. When I looked through my peep he was gone. He saw me draw! The disappointment I felt is indescribable. I went from the highest high to the lowest low in seconds. My friend Neil later told me that this buck would not do that to me again. He was right.

Needless to say, Trilogy never came back during the day again that year.

The next year I made a different plan. I phoned Jim Kempf, owner of Scorpyd crossbows and ordered a Scorpyd 165 crossbow. I changed my treestand a little to be less visible and a little higher up in a tree. My son, Christian, and I made regular trips to check the site and trail camera pictures. It was not long before Trilogy was back on camera and I was sitting waiting for him to show up! The rut came and Trilogy disappeared again. I was not too worried this time around. I was waiting for him to come back after the rut. He did and I was sitting in the treestand again. As I sat there, deep in thought, I looked to

Jannie and his son Christian pose proudly with Jannies trophy whitetail.

2010 my left. I saw a buck standing behind the spruce trees. I could see his left antler sticking out behind the branches and quickly counted six points. I got my crossbow ready and waited for him to step out. I reminded myself not to look at the antlers.

When he stepped out, I pulled the trigger and knew it was the perfect shot! All my preparation worked out this time. I was so happy. My hunting friends knew I was hunting this buck and they wanted to lay their hands on him just as much as I wanted to. So I phoned them up to come help me find and haul him out. In no time Christie and Vladimir were there and we started tracking the buck. He was dead, not even 50 yards from the treestand! As we walked up on him we realized it was not Trilogy! It was another 5x6 buck that I knew well from the trail camera pictures. A decent buck, but not Trilogy. He got away again. After I used my tag, Trilogy showed up on the trail camera almost every day during daylight hours for the last few days of the hunting season!

The following year I changed tactics again. I decided not to hunt as hard early in the season and wait until after the rut, when it was most likely for Trilogy to show up during the daytime. My friend Sean went hunting with me one afternoon. We saw lots of deer, but not the one I was after.

There was a misunderstanding in the dark and in an attempt to safely disarm the crossbow it was dry fired! I blame Sean. That caused significant damage to the crossbow. I sent the bow back to Jim for repairs but it was not going to be back in time before the end of hunting season. I had no choice but to take out my compound bow again. On December 3rd I decided to go in before daylight and sit all day. The morning was uneventful. It was a cold Saskatchewan day. I took a short afternoon break just to stretch my legs and warm up a little.

Then I went back to sit for the rest of the day. Does were coming and going. Later in the afternoon there were a few does in the area, when all of a sudden they got nervous and start-

ed backing up. Then I saw Trilogy coming Jannie with the buck he shot a year through the spruce trees! He headed straight before he closed the deal on Trilogy. for my shooting lane! He had a real attitude as he confidently swaggered into the area. He hit his antlers against the low hanging branches as he walked passed. I turned my camera on and started recording. I took my bow off the hanger and attached my release. Trilogy stepped over the strategically placed branches, turned and gave me a perfect quartering away shot.

This time I had no problem with the draw cycle and I followed the arrow on its way to the deer I have been hunting for the last three years. I could hear him running and crashing through the bush! I knew which way he went, but I decided to phone my friends to come help me track him.

Brian was first to arrive at the truck. We ewan buck with my bow! There was no disappointment this reviewed the footage and he was sure that we would find Trilogy. I took Brian to the spot where I had shot time! Brian had actually found him long before we arrived. He and saw Trilogy disappear into the bush. He started looking just wanted me to find Trilogy myself. He was a beautiful, mafor a blood trail and I went back to the truck to get Vladi- ture deer. In fact he was on his way downhill. He was in his mir and Christie. By the time we reached Brian he followed prime the year before, but he still scored high as a typical 6x6.

Going back to hunt the same area last year felt a little awkthe blood trail for a good 70 yards but couldn’t find any more blood. Vladimir and I walked in front, finding a little blood ward. The forest felt a little empty knowing Trilogy was not here and there while Brian and Christie were hanging back at there anymore. I had little hope of finding a buck to replace the last blood we found. And then I saw him! Not a hundred Trilogy. That’s until I saw the “Big Five” buck. But that is a story yards from where I shot him. I had finally got my big Saskatch- for another time….

A side profile of the huge bodied 6x6.

The buck has lots of long tines, and carries great mass throughout.

M

y first vivid outdoor memory is one from an afternoon in mid-May. I was being hoisted 15’ up a bear stand via rope and safety harness by my Dad. At the end of that rope was an ordinary bug-catching boy, oblivious to the wisdom in the calloused hands that pulled him safely into the stand. What followed that evening, as we watched those revered black bears frequent the bait beneath us was a subtle, yet permanent etching on my soul that instilled in me a lasting love for hunting and the outdoors. Since that evening, it has been a 24/7 adventure and constant learning curve to become that elusive, lethal predator.

I am blessed to have grown up in a household where hunting and trapping was woven into the fabric of our family values. Ever since I could pull legal draw weight I have been in a relentless and often times, frustrating pursuit of big game

animals in Alberta. For twelve years I have been keeping a mental scrapbook of learnings from both the successful, and the not-so-successful hunts. It seems as though, only the last few years, the pieces have finally been falling together.

Connecting the dots, and doing the small but crucial things necessary to capitalize on the opportunities that come forth.

Making use of the experiences, errors and hard knocks that allow a person to not just get older, but get smarter. Hunting elk with archery tackle is, in the opinion of many a seasoned hunter, one of the most difficult sports, and opportunities come so rarely with trophy animals that you certainly don’t want to blow them when the time finally comes. I decided to put to use the keys to my success and failures from previous kills and close encounters and use them as absolute guidelines here on out, for seasons to come.

ALWAYS

LEARNING BY: ADAM DEUTSCHER

Adam Deutscher with the monster bull elk he was able to kill deep in the forest of Northern Alberta while hunting with his good friend, Quinn. His quest to get to this point began as a child, while sitting in the bear stand with his father. Many lessons learned along the way helped Adam close the deal on his elk. The big bull stretched the tape at 352”, including 4 long tines that were all over 21”.

This past season in Alberta was one to remember. In the two years prior, I had taken two great bulls, but not without having learned the hard lessons that come along with that accomplishment. Months, miles and close encounters had me commited to ensure no more short cuts and no more screw ups!

I was stoked for the upcoming fall from the first sign of spring; preparation is essential and I was ready for it all. I had booked work off early this year and was able to get after them on opening day. The problem was that the weather was quite warm and there had not yet been any frost, and most early season elk hunters will tell you that a good frost can strike up the rut like a waterproof match! There was neither bugling nor hardly any visible evidence of bulls being around. Sure there was the odd scrape or rub but nothing that makes a hunters

hair stand up on the back of his neck! But what a difference a week makes when the elk rut approaches. It came hard and fast and I knew where the elk should be and set out trail cameras the week prior to opening day. With nothing but skin head cows and calves on my cameras I was certainly wondering where these bulls must be hiding.

September 8 was the day that I found the answers to my questions. Finally fresh rubs and wallows appeared all over the place, and right near one of my camera locations. Upon approaching my Reconyx trail cam, it was clear this bull was making up for lost time. He had destroyed the tree right next to my trail cam! I couldn’t get the SD card out quickly enough.

There he was! He was a beautiful bull with long eye guards and towering ivory tipped royals. I recognized these genetics immediately but had never seen this bull before. He was new;

a beautiful typical framed animal!

The time stamp told me he had done most of this forestry damage the night before and now was the time to get in on him. After swapping cards, I called my Dad, the wisest hunter I know, and good friend and crew member, Quinn. My Dad in all of his seniority and wisdom doesn’t get too excited on the outside when it comes to anything under 420", but in this case he was jacked for the first exciting news of the season. His ecstatic reply, “Go make blood!” After the wise Buddha stated the obvious, I asked Quinn to come with me the next morning to try to get on top of this bull while he was still in the area, hoping and praying he would be vocal enough to intercept as he left his morning feeding area. However, this meant a 2 a.m. wakeup call and a long circuitous route for miles to get in position without disturbing the feeding herd. It meant having to come in from the opposite direction and keep the wind perfect so that detection by any animal or big eyed lead cow (the sole reason why bulls get as big as they do in my opinion) could be avoided.

Because experience of the bush and land is so critical in these situations, thorough knowledge of the area attained in previous scouting trips would turn out to be exceptionally important. Following an old GPS coordinate that I had marked during a previous scouting trip, made for stealthy access in the dark to a funnel where well used elk trails seemed to bottleneck. We decided there would be a high possibility of this bull frequenting this area. We were not to be disappointed; as we got closer to our intended intercept point the trail signs became more and more intense. We waited there in hopes and anticipation of a bugle or a crack in the bush to indicate something was heading our way. Like clockwork, right at the first hint of light we heard the first bugle ahead of us about 500 yards. We didn’t move, but a couple of minutes later we heard another ripper! This bugle was much closer and he was on the move and fast. We sprinted ahead across to the edge of a clearing that met a willow thicket, where I stopped with the appropriate shooting lanes aligned… I smelled it. I peered down in the faint light and surveyed… it was a large torn up wallow.

This was likely the staging and rutting area of the bull we were after. After looking around more closely, several more rubs and scrapes confirmed that… we were in perfect position. We settled down into what we knew was the “bedroom”. Quinn turned on his video camera and we waited, not two minutes later we were rewarded with a loud CRACK! He was 100 yards away and closing. My blood pressure was maxed out and my heart rate in turbo mode with the bull was on a string towards me. It was as if I had picked the exact path that he was coming down.

Then there he was, just as awesome as I remembered him

on the camera. There is something uniquely special about being on the ground with a rutting bull elk when he first comes into view; what a moment to live in!

He was at 50 yards and heading straight for me, then 40, then 30, then 10 yards away! At full draw I remained motionless as he stopped and looked straight through me. Having seen the horror stories of arrowing an elk face on I had no plans of releasing until a broadside shot was presented. He appeared slightly confused but not scared as he slowly backed up and turned to walk angling past me and heading into the thicket behind us. At 20 yards he was broadside but the jungle he was living in became so dense that I had only a couple of shooting lanes, but too tight and the bull moving too quickly for a good shot. Quinn quickly motioned to me that he was going to bugle and challenge the bull in his domain. As soon as the bugle was out the bull stopped and looked at us, then proceeded to absolutely shred a patch of willows. He was at 60 yards and facing us, busily and thoroughly trashing this willow tree.

I motioned to Quinn to stay put while I seized the opportunity to move in closer to the distracted bull. I slowly crawled on my hands and knees, staying below the jungle like foliage of the understory soft damp forest duff muffling my movement. It seemed like an eternity to get into position and the bull persisted in his thrashing and polishing every ivory point on his rack.

I made it to 32 yards and had two lanes to shoot from. Roughly er you could have done things differently or should have or ten minutes had gone by and trying to keep my composure should not have…. while watching this beast at this close proximity was a trauWe bowed our heads in thanks to the Creator for the oppormatic mental battle in itself. While on my knees and my head tunity and waited for what seemed like the longest half hour just peeping up to keep an eye the bull, I had an idea. I pro- in history and then proceeded to stalk our way up to where ceeded to take out my cell phone from my side pant pocket, the second shot took place. Quinn found the first blood and which was jumbled about with all of the various knickknacks it looked good. We inched our way another 40 yards where bow hunters tend to carry. In slow-like motion I kept one we found even better blood, 40 more yards and I could see eye on the bull and one on a message to Quinn to tell him to his glossy white tipped eye guards sticking straight up to the cow call to this bull. Because the bull, Quinn and I shaped a sky. The bull was down and out! In disbelief, we had pulled it triangle, I hoped that this would draw the bull past me and off. Killing the first bull on our first opportunity of the season! toward Quinn. Two minutes passed when Quinn let out a se- He was an absolute beauty with 19” royals that looked totally ries of the sexiest cow calls I have ever heard. The bull froze out of place. The immensity of his size lying on the ground and the whole scenario changed. He lifted his antlers from the caused us to be overwhelmed. It was only later that we were murdered bush and stared in Quinn’s direction. He then bu- forced to dread the logistics of getting him out of there, begled several times, repeatedly and intensely as if he was beg- ing miles from the truck, but not before we savored the moging this new girlfriend to expose herself and leave the other ment. Of all the opportunities and past experiences and wisimaginary "bull" Quinn also had him convinced of. After about dom being strung together, to finally do what we set out to 15 minutes, he broke with the deep growling scream and start- do. I know that this is obviously not to be expected as routine; ed marching with purpose towards Quinn. He was angling there is nothing routine about bow hunting these keen Alberta right past me. At 15 yards I drew my APA Mamba X1 with elk. The hard lessons of the past were a blessings in disguise perfect timing as he walked past an old poplar tree obstruct- and in the hunting community, that is referred to as wisdom. ing his view to me. He would be slightly quartering towards My bull stretched the tape 352 inches. He was fairly narrow me when he entered my shooting lane and I knew that I had and without a lot of the genetic mass that these Alberta bulls to keep the arrow tight to his shoulder to get both lungs. At 7 usually carry, but every brow tine was over 21”, G3’s matching yards the bull spotted me and I knew he was about to bolt, but at 22” and with good main beams and those long dagger royals the arrow disappeared exactly where aimed in a millisecond on top: he killed it in length. By helping each other and “always and the G5 Montec cut him wide open. He charged out about learning” and building on the success and failures of the past 50 yards but Quinn stopped him with a flood of challenging and putting them in stone in your hunting bible, victory can bugles and distracting cow calls. The confused bull stopped come faster than you think. and listened which gave me the opportunity for a second shot.

Over the course of the next 48 hours, our crew had three (If a second shot presents itself in spite of your confidence in more adrenaline filled elk success hunts. Two which ended the first shot, take the second shot!) That second shot quickly with good bulls taken by my Dad, Kurt and Hunting partner estimated to be 50 yards and another Carbon Express was on Quinn. Quinn’s bull, a non-typical gagger was a special hunt in its deadly path. particular. But those are stories yet to be told…

This time he went smashAdam and Quinn take a moment to enjoy the ing through the willows, but the result of their efforts, before beginning the sounds quickly turned to silence task of field dressing and hauling out the beast. and no evidence that we knew of could confirm that he was down. It is at this time that you second and triple guess yourself as to how good the shot was; if it really was what you thought. It is then that you wonder if you should have done this or should have done that or something else. It was all so perfect; did I hit him too low? Why didn’t he fall in sight? It is then that you cry out to the Lord for help while giving thanks for the opportunity. It is then that you live in that semi-terror that all bow hunters go through. In a few moments will you be a hero or a chump? Tearing your heart apart trying to decide wheth-

Everything Outdoors ...with Kevin Wilson The Future of Hunting With recreational hunting under constant scrutiny, one has to wonder where we would be without mentors, lobbyists, advocates, and active conservationists. Thanks to the zealots among us, we continue to enjoy one of the greatest God-given rights and freedoms known to man. Since the beginning of time, hunting has been a way of life and, contrary to perpetual opposition, thanks to these very individuals and organizations, we continue to hunt.

Only since the industrial revolution has hunting evolved from shear necessity into a controversial and complex pastime.

Today it has morphed into something almost unrecognizable.

With the exception of remote northern residents who still hunt for sustenance, in a real sense today it can best be described as commercial. No point in denying it; we hunt because we enjoy it, not because we have to. Philosophical views of meat versus trophy hunting aside, pragmatists acknowledge the intrinsic values associated with the hunt.

At a time when society is distracted by the fast-pace of our

high-tech world, the old “out of sight, out of mind� adage applies. Without opportunity to venture into wild places, to interact with and harvest game, our wildlife would soon fade into obscurity. Hunters see firsthand, the need to manage populations, and we respond. We value biodiversity, acknowledge the natural and manmade threats, and we take steps to mitigate them. History shows that without invested hunters, wildlife would become even less of a political and economic priority than it is today. Only when value is placed on a resource, do we continue to fight for it and fund initiatives to support it. Even the least engaged hunter contributes financially to game management through license levies.

Conservation Organizations Today, threats to our hunting heritage include the anti-hunting movement, overharvesting of game, habitat loss, and access. Thankfully forward thinking conservation groups work feverishly to address these concerns.

Careful management continues to ensure wildlife populations remain sustainable. Vulnerable species like mule deer, mountain goat, grizzly bear, pronghorn antelope, and many more can be heralded as management success stories. Groups like Safari Club International, Boone & Crockett Club, Pope & Young, the Mule Deer Foundation, Wild Sheep Foundation, Ducks Unlimited, local fish & game clubs, local archery clubs, and more must be applauded for their tireless leadership in advocating for wildlife, hunters, and hunting. Every year, these groups initiate and administer projects to enhance habitat, bolster populations, and advocate for the very rights and opportunities that we so often take for granted.

Aside from collectively supporting our hunting heritage, the obvious question persists ‌ what can you and I do to ensure that our legacy lasts? Indeed, every hunter

must engage. Becoming a member of one or more of these organizations, volunteering valuable time for projects, and even making financial contributions, are all important corporate steps to ensuring the future of hunting.

Be a Mentor Aside from collective involvement, we can all play an individual role as mentors. My wife Heather and I capitalize on every opportunity we can to take young people hunting. We have made it a priority to take our own kids hunting since well before they could walk. They have joined me on bow hunts, even while they were still in a backpack. They sit in tree stands with us, and they have done spot and stalk hunts with us as well. Our oldest turns 12 in August, so anticipation is running high as we enter her first season as a license-holding hunter.

Nothing beats watching a young person grinning from ear to ear after they take their first animal.

Alberta has a non-profit agency called the Hunting for Tomorrow Foundation (HFTF), a coalition of hunting organizations that work together to recruit and retain hunters, while promoting the positive public image of hunters and hunting. By improving our public image, landowners are more likely to accommodate access and non-hunters are more apt to view our pastime as a favourable form of recreation. Attributed at least in part to HFTF, Alberta is one of three provinces in Canada that is seeing an actual increase in hunter numbers; all others are either struggling to retain hunter numbers or seeing a decline.

One mandate of HFTF is facilitation of mentor hunts. In partnership with other organizations like Ducks Unlimited (DU) and the Alberta Professional Outfitters Society (APOS), young people are introduced to hunting by an approved mentor. Last year Heather and I had the privilege of mentoring a 16 year old on his first-ever waterfowl hunt and what an experience it was! He has now been introduced to both big game and bird game hunting and loves it. He will no doubt share his experiences with friends and family.

to pass on our hunting heritage to future generations. Times change and, despite shifting cultural mores, hunting has a bright future as long as we invest in our young people, spouses, and friends who show an interest in our favourite pastime.

And let’s not forget women as the fastest growing group of newcomers to hunting. Once perceived as a male-dominated activity, this is no longer the case. In turn, women hunters will continue to play an increasingly important role in carrying our hunting heritage forward.

There is strength in numbers. The more of us there are, the better off we’ll be. Certain truths remain. Anti-hunting groups will persist in lobbying government, and as human populations increase and urban and industrial development continue, habitat loss will continue as well. On the bright side, we can all communicate the important role that hunting plays in managing our sustainable wildlife resources. Likewise we need to take it upon ourselves to continually share the value of recreational hunting with those around us. Last but not least, we need to play an active role in not just retaining, but growing hunter numbers and improving our public image. Only by engaging in these critical steps will we ensure that our next generations can continue to hunt long into the future.

What does the Future Hold?

Will recreational hunting one day become obsolete? In many parts of the world it already has.

As for here in North America, I sincerely hope we continue to celebrate and maintain our rich hunting heritage. We are blessed with an abundance of wildlife, wild spaces, and expertise. All things being equal, with a little effort, we have the ability

Hamilton Greenwood Photo

The

Future of Hunting

Matthew Ratzlaff

Delainey Speirs

Ethan & Hannah Watt

Taylor Haydukewich

Ethan Watt

Hunter Speirs

Dorian Sagel

Tait & Reid Gunderson

Josh Toews

Alexis Yliniemi

Matthew Ratzlaff

Blake Wells

Storm “Mad Trapper� Zablocki

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

Email your photos along with name and age to: info@biggameillustrated.com

ABOUT THE COVER

The first opportunity that my wife, Lindsay, and I, had to get pictures of the big non-typical that graces the cover of the second issue of Big Game Illustrated Magazine was ruined by a wasp nest hidden in a downed birch tree. The experience resulted in 24 wasp stings to my legs, arms and face, but no quality pictures of the buck! After a half dozen trips back to the area, we finally spotted the buck in one of the clear cuts where we thought he fed on the fresh growth. Half an hour later, we were within 40 yards of the big buck. As he fed along the edge of the forest, we setup in front of him, near a clearing where some clover had taken hold. It was the spot with the least amount of thick cover and we hoped he would step into the open. I could hear my heart beating in my ears, as the excitement built and the big deer came closer. Our plan worked perfectly and he stepped into the clearing. Lindsay managed to get a few good pictures but his head was down. The buck’s ears perked up and we could see he heard the clicks of the camera. As he lifted his head, we couldn’t believe the size of his velvet covered antlers. He immediately picked us out of the heavy cover, but thankfully froze for a few seconds while Lindsay’s camera was working overtime. The result of this preseason ‘hunt’ is a tremendous photo of a spectacular, wild northern whitetail. We hope you enjoy the picture as much as we have enjoyed the adventure of obtaining it! I would also like to say a special thank you to Hamilton Greenwood who has been a tremendous mentor to us in regards to obtaining quality photgraphs.

- Chad Wilkinson

e Archer y nc rms &A

Perform a

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PH 1.306.249.1991 or TF 1.888.249.1991 211A-103rd Street / Saskatoon, SK

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