About a month ago I headed out into the great wide open for the only hunt I drew this year - my third choice, a last season deer hunt in one of southern New Mexico's desert units. I hunted this unit several years in a row in the late 2000s, so when work and family commitments kept me from scouting, I didn't worry too much. I packed up Friday morning and made the drive over to the happy hunting grounds. On the way into camp, I was heartened a little to see a few deer out moving late in the afternoon, including this floppy eared doe.
Camp was a cozy little affair.
Opening day dawned clear and bright, so I struck out from camp on foot, hoping to intercept deer coming in off the desert flats to the foothills to bed. Instead of deer, I found only desert bighorn sheep. (Aside - I REALLY REALLY want to draw a tag for these!)
Later that afternoon I headed elsewhere, and found a few does, so I returned there for Day 2. This doe and fawn were two of a dozen or so I saw. No antlers though.
Lots of good building blocks in the desert.
I spent the late morning and early afternoon looking over new country, without finding anything of interest. Well, actually, I saw some interesting country that I couldn't get to because much is landlocked behind private. Bummer. By late afternoon I was around the back side of the hills by camp glassing into deep canyons looking for a little pond shown on the map. Instead I spotted a couple gray shapes. A little tweaking on the bino focus wheel and they resolved into mule deer, one a doe and one a buck with enough antlers to see from a mile away. Here's where the spotting scope, or the lack thereof, comes in. With no scope to zoom in, I couldn't tell if the buck was worth going for. So, shoe leather to the rescue. I grabbed my gear, shouldered the pack and rifle, and headed for the foothills upon which the deer were calmly feeding. The setting sun was in my face, but so was a stiff desert wind, so conditions weren't all bad. I decided on the hike out that if the buck was a good three-point, I'd go for it.
Using the desert scrub, I stalked to within 225 yards of the two deer. By this time I could easily tell that I wouldn't be shooting this deer. He had plenty of antler, but was young and only a big fork-horn. With the day drawing to an end, there was no time to look elsewhere, so I just hung around watching the two deer feed. You can learn a lot watching prey animals interact when they don't know you're there. After 20 minutes or so, the deer had fed to my right and nearly to the end of the small rocky ridge they'd been working their way down. Suddenly, the buck's head whipped up and he stared intently into the brush way to my right. Something had his attention. Figuring it was a coyote, I started glassing the scrub looking for my target of opportunity. But what do my wandering eyes reveal? Four sets of antlers, merrily making their way up the hill towards the little buck with his doe. Even through the thick brush, I was able to see that two of the bucks met my three-point threshold, so I started to get warmed up and ready for action. As the four bucks moved in, they stopped regularly to scrap with each other, clacking antlers, kicking up dust, and generally putting on the kind of show I like to watch. By the time they had made it near the little buck and his doe, I had identified the largest of the bunch. They cleared the brush as they worked up the hill towards the pair, and when they stopped just shy of them at 239 yards, I settled the crosshairs on the shoulder of the largest and gently squeezed the trigger of my Kimber rifle. The 150 grain Barnes TTSX crossed that distance in milliseconds, rewarding me with the thump of a solid hit. The buck darted off, but quickly circled back towards his posse, which stood watching his antics. When he crashed to the desert floor after less than 50 yards, they figured something wasn't quite right and teamed up with the original pair to first stand around, then trot off into their steeper escape country.
I marked the buck's location, made sure I had all my gear, picked up the empty cartridge, and marched up the gentle slope to find the fallen buck. It occurred to me as I hiked that if I had a spotting scope, I would have used to see that the first buck was too young, and likely moved on, never knowing there more deer in the area. Food for thought... After taking a moment to appreciate this fine animal, and the venison I would add to my family's freezer, I took a few pictures and got to work.
First I laid out my Exo Mountain Gear pack and got it ready to haul meat.
Then I dug out the knives and other tools, including my new favorite, this custom made from the antler of the first bull elk I killed.
Then it was time to make meat.
For the first load, I carried a hind quarter, the rifle, and all the other gear. I got that to the truck, took everything out of the pack except water and the first aid kit, and headed back up the hill in the dark. The second load was the three remaining quarters, trimmed meat, and antlers. I had it partly unpacked on the tailgate before I remembered to snap a picture.
I got back to camp late, made sure the meat was well-iced in the cooler, and made dinner before falling into the warm sleeping bag. The next day I headed home, making a few coyote stands on the way. The only thing I saw of interest was what my kids call a "dinosaur grasshopper."
That was it, my only big game hunt this year. All is not lost though, since I get to hunt vicariously through my older two kids in just a couple weeks. Stay tuned!
Camp was a cozy little affair.
Opening day dawned clear and bright, so I struck out from camp on foot, hoping to intercept deer coming in off the desert flats to the foothills to bed. Instead of deer, I found only desert bighorn sheep. (Aside - I REALLY REALLY want to draw a tag for these!)
Later that afternoon I headed elsewhere, and found a few does, so I returned there for Day 2. This doe and fawn were two of a dozen or so I saw. No antlers though.
Lots of good building blocks in the desert.
I spent the late morning and early afternoon looking over new country, without finding anything of interest. Well, actually, I saw some interesting country that I couldn't get to because much is landlocked behind private. Bummer. By late afternoon I was around the back side of the hills by camp glassing into deep canyons looking for a little pond shown on the map. Instead I spotted a couple gray shapes. A little tweaking on the bino focus wheel and they resolved into mule deer, one a doe and one a buck with enough antlers to see from a mile away. Here's where the spotting scope, or the lack thereof, comes in. With no scope to zoom in, I couldn't tell if the buck was worth going for. So, shoe leather to the rescue. I grabbed my gear, shouldered the pack and rifle, and headed for the foothills upon which the deer were calmly feeding. The setting sun was in my face, but so was a stiff desert wind, so conditions weren't all bad. I decided on the hike out that if the buck was a good three-point, I'd go for it.
Using the desert scrub, I stalked to within 225 yards of the two deer. By this time I could easily tell that I wouldn't be shooting this deer. He had plenty of antler, but was young and only a big fork-horn. With the day drawing to an end, there was no time to look elsewhere, so I just hung around watching the two deer feed. You can learn a lot watching prey animals interact when they don't know you're there. After 20 minutes or so, the deer had fed to my right and nearly to the end of the small rocky ridge they'd been working their way down. Suddenly, the buck's head whipped up and he stared intently into the brush way to my right. Something had his attention. Figuring it was a coyote, I started glassing the scrub looking for my target of opportunity. But what do my wandering eyes reveal? Four sets of antlers, merrily making their way up the hill towards the little buck with his doe. Even through the thick brush, I was able to see that two of the bucks met my three-point threshold, so I started to get warmed up and ready for action. As the four bucks moved in, they stopped regularly to scrap with each other, clacking antlers, kicking up dust, and generally putting on the kind of show I like to watch. By the time they had made it near the little buck and his doe, I had identified the largest of the bunch. They cleared the brush as they worked up the hill towards the pair, and when they stopped just shy of them at 239 yards, I settled the crosshairs on the shoulder of the largest and gently squeezed the trigger of my Kimber rifle. The 150 grain Barnes TTSX crossed that distance in milliseconds, rewarding me with the thump of a solid hit. The buck darted off, but quickly circled back towards his posse, which stood watching his antics. When he crashed to the desert floor after less than 50 yards, they figured something wasn't quite right and teamed up with the original pair to first stand around, then trot off into their steeper escape country.
I marked the buck's location, made sure I had all my gear, picked up the empty cartridge, and marched up the gentle slope to find the fallen buck. It occurred to me as I hiked that if I had a spotting scope, I would have used to see that the first buck was too young, and likely moved on, never knowing there more deer in the area. Food for thought... After taking a moment to appreciate this fine animal, and the venison I would add to my family's freezer, I took a few pictures and got to work.
First I laid out my Exo Mountain Gear pack and got it ready to haul meat.
Then I dug out the knives and other tools, including my new favorite, this custom made from the antler of the first bull elk I killed.
Then it was time to make meat.
For the first load, I carried a hind quarter, the rifle, and all the other gear. I got that to the truck, took everything out of the pack except water and the first aid kit, and headed back up the hill in the dark. The second load was the three remaining quarters, trimmed meat, and antlers. I had it partly unpacked on the tailgate before I remembered to snap a picture.
I got back to camp late, made sure the meat was well-iced in the cooler, and made dinner before falling into the warm sleeping bag. The next day I headed home, making a few coyote stands on the way. The only thing I saw of interest was what my kids call a "dinosaur grasshopper."
That was it, my only big game hunt this year. All is not lost though, since I get to hunt vicariously through my older two kids in just a couple weeks. Stay tuned!
