As I get older I become a more realistic hunter. Not every buck you dream of exists. Not every season is better than the last. Not every hunter shares the same ethics. But days afield are good and there are genuinely good people to be met and interact with out there.
I drew an easier tag this year because I want to hunt Mule Deer more. I’ve always loved hunting them. I’m enamoured with them. They are in my blood and sometimes my dreams. I love looking at them and a few days ago with a tag in my pocket, away from the truck a fair hike, I sat down in the snow tucked into a corner with my spotting scope to eat a late breakfast from my pack while I watched one of a dozen 165 class 4x4’s I’d seen so far in the season strut his stuff in front of several annoyed ladies.
I had no desire to shoot him, just like the others. He was young and if he held his position he might make the season. Though it seemed unlikely. I wanted something grey, something weathered and old. Something with some weight. Given last winters wrath I thought that order might as well be for a unicorn.
That evening I found him. I regret being alone in a way, but I shot him at 380 yds while he stood among a half a dozen does and light going fast. My field photos were hasty to just illustrate the moment. And I regret that, as I always like good field photos. But I felt satisfied. Something I rarely feel, and it felt good.
I drew an easier tag this year because I want to hunt Mule Deer more. I’ve always loved hunting them. I’m enamoured with them. They are in my blood and sometimes my dreams. I love looking at them and a few days ago with a tag in my pocket, away from the truck a fair hike, I sat down in the snow tucked into a corner with my spotting scope to eat a late breakfast from my pack while I watched one of a dozen 165 class 4x4’s I’d seen so far in the season strut his stuff in front of several annoyed ladies.
I had no desire to shoot him, just like the others. He was young and if he held his position he might make the season. Though it seemed unlikely. I wanted something grey, something weathered and old. Something with some weight. Given last winters wrath I thought that order might as well be for a unicorn.
That evening I found him. I regret being alone in a way, but I shot him at 380 yds while he stood among a half a dozen does and light going fast. My field photos were hasty to just illustrate the moment. And I regret that, as I always like good field photos. But I felt satisfied. Something I rarely feel, and it felt good.
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