Frostbite and Misery Well Worth It
By 2011 I had been hunting since I was eight years old totaling 27 years and this was my toughest hunt ever. The pictures look nice but the weather was miserable. I drew a rifle tag after waiting five years and accumulating preference points for a coveted mule deer buck tag in the badlands of North Dakota. We usually skip the madness and mob of opening weekend so we went out on the second weekend of the season that runs over 16 1/2 days and covers three weekends. I camped and hunted with my dad, Jerry, my friend, Jeff (nickname Guss), and my son, Zach. We camped and hunted about 10 miles south of Medora, ND. Saturday at dawn had my dad looked for a deer to bowhunt or grouse to hunt with his wirehaired pointer while myself, Guss, and Zach hiked into a ridge that I hunt often. On that ridge I've been hunting a 4x4 that I guessed to be five years old by that time. He wasn't huge, but I would be happy to put my tag on a buck that I have history with. We hiked in about two miles to the top of the largest butte and we glassed all day. We had a nice 4x4 bedded at 409 yards, but he was not large and he was not a buck I wanted to tag quite yet. We managed to keep Zach entertained until dusk and then we hiked out. In the morning I chose to take a path on the way in that I don't normally take and I got somewhat lost on the way out. I knew the direction to go, but the terrain was unfamiliar and took longer than expected. I managed to get my son scared for an hour and half till we got to the truck.
We had supper, a few beers, and went to bed. We got up before dawn and had a good breakfast before heading south to a large butte that holds a lot of deer. My dad and the three of us glassed for deer from the road and we spotted a nice buck about two miles west of the road at the base of the butte. My dad hunted alone again on Sunday and Guss, Zach, and I hiked into the butte. We didn't find the buck, so we packed up and headed out in early afternoon. We had a five hour drive east across the state and it wasn't as much fun without a deer in the back.
The next weekend, which was the last, I was going to hunt every possible minute to find a good buck. I got enough work done for the week so I left Thursday after work. The night was cold in my popup camper, but I stayed warm using numerous sleeping bags. I got up early and hiked into the same butte as we hunted the Saturday before. The deer were in rut, so I figured I would see a lot of animals running all over. Instead I had to deal with 25 mph winds and sideways snow that limited visibility to a 1/4 mile. I did see some small bucks but nothing worth shooting when I had to wait five years for a tag. Saturday I hunted the same ridge and went another mile farther to the east to another plateau, but it was again very cold in the single digits with high winds. There were a few bucks, but not any large 4x4's that showed up. Each day I was glassing into the sun and wind to spot bucks with no luck. I was getting down from the pressure of filling a rare tag and the tough weather. On Sunday I decided to hunt the same butte as the Sunday before. In the last seven years I had seen numerous large 4x4's in that area, so my chances were as good there as anyplace else. I had young kids at home that wanted to see dad so I knew I should leave by at least 3 pm to see them before bedtime. Dawn brought more wind and even colder temps. It didn't help that I was hunting at least 1000 feet above the prairie. I'm pretty stubborn and I wasn't going to give up with just a half day left. I glassed and glassed all morning and turned up no bucks. I was ready to leave but I decided to try one more ravine. So I hiked 200 yards farther to the south and sat in the shadows. No deer from 11 am to 1 pm. I was getting loaded and prepared to leave without the desired buck. I stood up and hiked uphill. While sulking in my failure, I barely scanned uphill while walking. It must have been the rut, but for some reason a nice 4x4 was staring at me while I walked. I felt like it wasn't real, but I was too tired and cold to even think clearly, so I dropped to the ground immediately. It was at least a 200 yard shot, so I folded out the bipod on my Weatherby. I figured he'd drop with the broadside shot through the chest, but he just walked down the hill like nothing happened. I still couldn't believe the scene in front of me so I just sat still. After a couple minutes the buck reappeared looking at me broadside again. This time I aimed for the front shoulder to hopefully anchor him on the spot. At the shot he limped farther down the slope and away from me out of sight.
With steep terrain, slick snow on top of frozen clay, and my tiredness, it took me roughly 20 minutes to reach the spot where he was shot. I trailed his sliding tracks and found blood after about 50 yards. On a small rise I looked up before going down and the buck was laying there staring at me. He had his head up but didn't run even though he was only 15 yards away. I shot him in the neck to end the daydream. The buck rolled down a few feet onto timber that prevented him from dropping into a 10 foot deep washout. Bucks like this are rare in North Dakota, but finding and shooting one on the last minute seemed so unreal. I had seen this deer the year before and for whatever reason he decided to show himself at this time. So many times hard work turns up no animal, but when hard work turns into good luck and a harvested animal, it makes you think that hard work creates good luck.
At this point I was so grateful and also still pressured as I had a huge bodied buck to bone out and carry to my truck which was 2 1/2 miles away. I boned out and put the meat into a garbage bag in my pack. Then I caped out the rest of the neck and head or a shoulder mount. I lashed the cape and antlers and my extra clothes to the outside of my pack. My pack weighed 90 pounds, but I was determined to get out and home. I slipped so much on the snow-covered clay while hiking uphill that I unloaded and used my rifle for a walking stick to gain extra balance and traction. I gained the 200 feet to the top of the butte when a pickup came down the road that was closed. Turns out it was the ranch hand of the rancher who owned the adjacent land. He was impressed that I used a bicycle to get to the base of the butte instead of illegally driving a truck. He gladly gave me a ride to my truck and gave me permission to drive in to get my bike.
Hard work really paid off on this trip. Honest, hard work got me a 6 1/2 year old buck that scored 150 inches. And hard work got me a ride to my truck on the way out. I learned that 30 mph winds and 15 degree temperatures create a lot of frostbite unless you have numerous layers protecting all of your skin. My face was red for a week after this trip. I also learned that older bucks are much different and much tougher to stop. There isn't much meat on the front shoulders so I might as well try to break the shoulders if I want to stop them quickly.
Equipment: Weatherby Ultralight 300 cal., Barnes triple shock 165 gr., Wool clothing, Swarovski binoculars, Badlands 2800 backpack.
We had supper, a few beers, and went to bed. We got up before dawn and had a good breakfast before heading south to a large butte that holds a lot of deer. My dad and the three of us glassed for deer from the road and we spotted a nice buck about two miles west of the road at the base of the butte. My dad hunted alone again on Sunday and Guss, Zach, and I hiked into the butte. We didn't find the buck, so we packed up and headed out in early afternoon. We had a five hour drive east across the state and it wasn't as much fun without a deer in the back.
The next weekend, which was the last, I was going to hunt every possible minute to find a good buck. I got enough work done for the week so I left Thursday after work. The night was cold in my popup camper, but I stayed warm using numerous sleeping bags. I got up early and hiked into the same butte as we hunted the Saturday before. The deer were in rut, so I figured I would see a lot of animals running all over. Instead I had to deal with 25 mph winds and sideways snow that limited visibility to a 1/4 mile. I did see some small bucks but nothing worth shooting when I had to wait five years for a tag. Saturday I hunted the same ridge and went another mile farther to the east to another plateau, but it was again very cold in the single digits with high winds. There were a few bucks, but not any large 4x4's that showed up. Each day I was glassing into the sun and wind to spot bucks with no luck. I was getting down from the pressure of filling a rare tag and the tough weather. On Sunday I decided to hunt the same butte as the Sunday before. In the last seven years I had seen numerous large 4x4's in that area, so my chances were as good there as anyplace else. I had young kids at home that wanted to see dad so I knew I should leave by at least 3 pm to see them before bedtime. Dawn brought more wind and even colder temps. It didn't help that I was hunting at least 1000 feet above the prairie. I'm pretty stubborn and I wasn't going to give up with just a half day left. I glassed and glassed all morning and turned up no bucks. I was ready to leave but I decided to try one more ravine. So I hiked 200 yards farther to the south and sat in the shadows. No deer from 11 am to 1 pm. I was getting loaded and prepared to leave without the desired buck. I stood up and hiked uphill. While sulking in my failure, I barely scanned uphill while walking. It must have been the rut, but for some reason a nice 4x4 was staring at me while I walked. I felt like it wasn't real, but I was too tired and cold to even think clearly, so I dropped to the ground immediately. It was at least a 200 yard shot, so I folded out the bipod on my Weatherby. I figured he'd drop with the broadside shot through the chest, but he just walked down the hill like nothing happened. I still couldn't believe the scene in front of me so I just sat still. After a couple minutes the buck reappeared looking at me broadside again. This time I aimed for the front shoulder to hopefully anchor him on the spot. At the shot he limped farther down the slope and away from me out of sight.
With steep terrain, slick snow on top of frozen clay, and my tiredness, it took me roughly 20 minutes to reach the spot where he was shot. I trailed his sliding tracks and found blood after about 50 yards. On a small rise I looked up before going down and the buck was laying there staring at me. He had his head up but didn't run even though he was only 15 yards away. I shot him in the neck to end the daydream. The buck rolled down a few feet onto timber that prevented him from dropping into a 10 foot deep washout. Bucks like this are rare in North Dakota, but finding and shooting one on the last minute seemed so unreal. I had seen this deer the year before and for whatever reason he decided to show himself at this time. So many times hard work turns up no animal, but when hard work turns into good luck and a harvested animal, it makes you think that hard work creates good luck.
At this point I was so grateful and also still pressured as I had a huge bodied buck to bone out and carry to my truck which was 2 1/2 miles away. I boned out and put the meat into a garbage bag in my pack. Then I caped out the rest of the neck and head or a shoulder mount. I lashed the cape and antlers and my extra clothes to the outside of my pack. My pack weighed 90 pounds, but I was determined to get out and home. I slipped so much on the snow-covered clay while hiking uphill that I unloaded and used my rifle for a walking stick to gain extra balance and traction. I gained the 200 feet to the top of the butte when a pickup came down the road that was closed. Turns out it was the ranch hand of the rancher who owned the adjacent land. He was impressed that I used a bicycle to get to the base of the butte instead of illegally driving a truck. He gladly gave me a ride to my truck and gave me permission to drive in to get my bike.
Hard work really paid off on this trip. Honest, hard work got me a 6 1/2 year old buck that scored 150 inches. And hard work got me a ride to my truck on the way out. I learned that 30 mph winds and 15 degree temperatures create a lot of frostbite unless you have numerous layers protecting all of your skin. My face was red for a week after this trip. I also learned that older bucks are much different and much tougher to stop. There isn't much meat on the front shoulders so I might as well try to break the shoulders if I want to stop them quickly.
Equipment: Weatherby Ultralight 300 cal., Barnes triple shock 165 gr., Wool clothing, Swarovski binoculars, Badlands 2800 backpack.