A Story of a First-Ever Mule Deer Hunt.

It was November 7, 2003. We just pulled off the highway onto the gravel road leading to the farm of my friend, Leigh's, grandfather. Too bad Leigh had to work. I had been invited to hunt with Leigh and his dad, Leroy, in the North Dakota badlands. I had never hunted mule deer before and I was excited. Leigh had to work so it was just Leroy and me.

About 1/2 mile down the road Leroy slows the truck down to a crawl and points to our right. "Look there," he said. There, 40 yards off the road in a small coulee, were 12 mule deer - does and small bucks. A good sight.

Off to the left was an alfalfa field. My eyes popped open. We counted 37 deer on that one field; no big bucks. Then we drove another mile and stopped to glass another alfalfa field. We couldn't get an accurate count but there were about 40 deer… one big buck but too far away to get a good look in the fading light.

"No problem," said Leroy, "they'll be there in the morning."

We arrived at the farmhouse and spent the evening listening to Leigh's grandfather complain about all the deer. I had a hard time getting to sleep. It was good to be back home. I had just spent 14 months in Uzbekistan - on the border of Afghanistan. Just being out of there was a relief. Now, getting to hunt deer for the first time in two years….

Leroy shook me awake. I must have fallen asleep after all. "It'll be shooting light in about half an hour," he said.

I got dressed and went downstairs to the main floor. There was Leroy pacing the floor. He looked at me and said, "The excitement of a deer hunt never goes away."

I was going to open the front door and see what the outside was like. He told me not to because one time he had stepped outside and scared off 2 nice bucks that had been feeding in the garden about 50 yards from the house. Now he never steps outside until shooting light. We spent the next eternity pacing from one window to the next looking to see if any deer might be feeding close to the house.

From the living room window we could see about 40 deer feeding on an alfalfa field about a mile from the house. We could see that one deer was much larger than any other out there but it was too far away to see how big the rack was. Now I was pacing the floor.

This was my first ever mule deer hunt. I had visions of big racks. We slipped out of the house and into the waiting pickup. We headed up to where we saw the 12 does and small bucks the evening before. Sure enough they were still there. We didn't disturb them.

We went back to where we saw the 40+ feeding in the alfalfa field. We stopped the truck about ½ mile from the field. It was a cold day - 6 degrees below zero; snow up to the tops of our boots. We decided to get closer. The wind had blown the snow around and created a crust on top. Every step we took made a loud crunching sound. The deer closest to the edge of the field saw us, got fidgety and started moving away. We decide to leave so as not to disturb them.

Leroy said, "I will show you some real mule deer country." (see photo below). We headed away from the farm country and into some back hills. I have no idea where we were. We headed off the road and down a prairie trail. The snow was up to the axel but Leroy's new Chevy Silverado 4X4 had no trouble going through it.

We stopped at the top of a knoll to look over the scenery. This view was enough to make the trip all worth it. It was totally quiet - serene; eerily quiet. The entire countryside was covered with snow. The green juniper trees stood out in stark contrast to the bright white snow. It was totally beautiful.

Click for a larger view.

Leroy awoke me from my daydreams with a, "I think we should leave the truck here and walk over that hill and look into the coulees on the other side. There is some good deer cover there and who knows…. we might see the granddaddy of all those little bucks."

After forty-five minutes we were huffing and puffing as we neared the top of a ridge. We stopped to catch our breath. Ten minutes later we eased over the ridge. There were three does feeding placidly on the far side of the draw. We watched them work their way along the hillside and eventually over the hill. What a beautiful sight.

Two hours and three hills later we spotted 4 deer slip over the top of a distant ridge. They were bucks. At least two of them were worth of a closer look. They were at least 3/4 of a mile distant when we spooked them. We hoped we hadn't spooked them too bad and decided to try to get in front of them. Two miles later after making a big circle we intercepted their tracks and decided to abandon them. Just for the fun of it he blew his deer call. To my amazement a very nice muley doe came up over the hill from the other side. When she saw us she stopped with a puzzled look on her face. She finally decided to have nothing to do with us and turned around and went back to where she came from.

I had never seen anyone call deer and didn't think it was possible. The next day I would see Leroy call 3 does to within 20 yards. It was unbelievable. All in all, in 4 days of hunting, he must have called 40 or 50 deer to within 100 yards. Last year he called a very nice 4X4 buck to within 80 yards. Bucks don't normally come to the call but that one was with 9 does who came to see what was up with the call.

Leroy said, "I don't know if I would shoot one out here anyway. It is at least 2 miles back to the truck and I am in no mood to drag myself, let alone a deer, all that way." We made a beeline for the truck. We were tired; very tired.

Soon we were comfortably seated on the truck with the heater running. The thermometer showed -6 degrees and I was sweating like a pig.

We soon pulled off that trail and onto another. "There's a pretty nice coulee over here," Leroy said. "I am too tired to walk any more but we'll crawl to the edge of the coulee and blow the deer call. If the big buck is laying with some does he may come in with them."

We crawled to the edge of very deep and steep coulee. Leroy blew his deer call. About 15 seconds later he hissed, "there they are." He had to point them out to me - about 300 yards down the coulee and about 1/2 way up the other side. They were peering out behind some juniper trees. "The buck looks pretty nice," he said. "I can't get a real good look at him because of the trees."

After watching him in the binoculars for several seconds he said, "He is not a super big buck but he is pretty nice. The problem is that if we shoot him over there, how are we going to get him out?"

I was watching the buck through my scope and was getting more excited by the second. "I'll drag him out," I said.

Leroy replied, "Yes you will. I'm too old to be dragging a deer up the side of these coulees."

Thirty seconds later the buck was down. Way down. Way, way down. When I shot him he rolled all the way to the bottom of the coulee.

Four hours later, after the buck was in the truck, we both decided we would definitely NOT shoot him again. He wasn't as big as we had first thought and dragging him up the hill was way too much work. Way, way too much work. We dragged ourselves into the truck and headed for the house.

Click for a larger view.

Two days later I had my bow. Leroy spotted a nice 4X4 muley buck bedded down on the side of a hill. We studied him for a while and determined that if I could sneak over the hill behind him I may get a shot. Leroy dropped me off about a mile from the buck. "Watch for other deer," he cautioned.

I crept and slithered the last 300 yards to the top of the hill. As I peeked over the ridge I almost choked. There was the buck 40 yards from me, his back was to me, he was looking away, and the wind was in my face. This had worked out even better than I could have dreamed.

I saw movement across the ravine. Four does and two fork-horned bucks were bedded down in some brush. They were all facing me. I didn't dare move. I still had not figured out how I would nock an arrow, get into a shooting position, draw my bow and fire. All without being seen by the six deer look straight at me. They had seen me but didn't seem alarmed. The wind was in my favor.

Then it happened. A fork-horned buck off to my left which I had not seen had spotted me. He was walking right to me to see what was up! I couldn't believe the rotten luck. Now what to do? As it turned out I couldn't do anything - the little fork horn winded me and took off in a flash spooking the 4X4 who bolted down the ravine and up the other side faster than I believed possible. It was a long walk back. At the same time it was one of the best deer hunts I'd ever had.

We didn't get any real huge bucks but we had a blast. Three average sized bucks and a doe. All together we saw way over 100 deer. Even a very nice 5X5 wall-hanger that stood and looked at us for at least 5 minutes - 60 yards on the wrong side of the highway; in a different unit. We also shot 7 pheasants and a turkey. Altogether it was a great 4 days of hunting.

    More pictures from the hunt - click for a larger image.