The One That Got Away

It was my first hunt with my brother-in-law, Gary Pick.  He and his long time Houston Firefighter buddies graciously included me for that year’s trip.  They have been hunting in Southwest Colorado off and on for 20+ years—public land north of Cortez was the destination.

I have hunted Rocky Mountain mule deer twice near Raton, New Mexico, once near Craig Colorado, twice near Rifle Colorado and once near Molina Colorado. This was my first hunt on public land, and even though this region has a limited draw that restricts hunting pressure, nonetheless, the area seemed crawling with blaze orange vests and caps.  I thought it too crowded.  Afterwards I realized at least half of these hunters were only carrying elk licenses so the pressure on mule deer wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

It was the second afternoon of our five day hunt, and Gary and I were driving in my truck on a gravel county road heading west into the area we wanted to check out.  About a mile ahead was an oil drilling rig.  Service trucks, regular pickup trucks, hunter’s ATV’s and jeeps were keeping dust in the air on this busy road.  I was not expecting to see what appeared.

As we were turning right and slowly losing elevation down into a sage brush flat, I glanced to my left into a long sage and pinion studded pocket and what I saw dang near caused me to hit the roof of my cab.  I quickly sped down the road out of sight of the herd of bucks I had glimpsed. There were about 6 or 7 in the group, all mature, but one was a true once in a life time caliber animal.  This guy looked like a calendar buck!  Enormous baseball bat thick bases, cheater points here and there, it had an honest spread of 36 inches.

Colorado law says you cannot discharge a firearm from a vehicle or near a vehicle or across public roads.  Gary already had a buck tag punched from the opening morning, so I instructed him to sit tight while I put on a short stalk. I grabbed my Winchester 270 and Leitz binoculars and took off.  There was a long, low ridge separating the group of bucks from where my truck was parked.  My estimate was about 2 stories high, but perhaps 250-300 yards long.  The hill was covered with sage, tall dormant tan gamma grass, scattered juniper and large dark brown boulders varying in size between basketballs to as large as vehicles.

After scrambling to near the ridge top, I slowed down to catch my wind.  Once my breathing returned to normal, I inched my way up.  As soon as my head cleared the ridge, I spotted the gaggle of bucks but they spotted me the same instant.  All scattered in different directions like a covey of quail exploding and all were running flat out.  I am talking race horse running, not just tootling along, but digging it full speed. 

Of course I had hoped to slowly settle into a comfortable position with a nice tree limb for a rest and potting the monster as it browsed in the pocket with his buddies.  Now I faced a half dozen running bucks and all were gaining distance as I rushed to a fairly clear spot, planted my rear on the ground and settled into a good sitting position to start tracking the animals with my scope.  I quickly found Mr. Macho.  He was with a doe and running to my right. What complicated this mess was the glare in my scope because he was directly in line with the setting sun. 

All of the above happened in a matter of seconds.  I quickly calculated the animal at about 300 yards.  He was still running and showing no sign of slowing down.  My rifle was sighted for 200 yards and had a 7 inch drop at 300 yards.  I held the horizontal crosswire even with its back to allow for drop and swung ahead to what appeared slightly more than a body length to allow for its running speed and fired one shot.  The buck turned uphill with the doe and entered the thick timber that covered a large mountain.  The buck did not flinch or stagger.  There was no sound of a bullet striking flesh.  Now all was quiet with the faint smell of burned cordite spicing the air.  That moment was pure misery.

I walked back down to the truck and gave the details to Gary.  We decided to go back and keep an eye out to see if by some miracle, the deer would reappear.  We climbed back up, found one of the larger rocks to hide behind and settled in for the wait for dusk.  At this time, I noticed a white pickup truck sitting on a ridge to the east but paid no more attention to it.  The sun had set and two of the old bucks came out.  Gary was jittery and urging me to shoot but all I could do is chuckle.  They were good mature animals but were dwarf like compared to what I knew was on the mountain in front of us.

Buck harvested by another hunter on the trip - the one that got away dwarfed it
Largest buck harvested by another hunter on the trip – about half the size of the one that got away

At black dark, we gathered our gear and hiked back to my pickup.  As we arrived, we met the two hunters in the white pickup.  One asked, “Who shot?”  I said I was guilty.  He said, “You missed!”  My response was something like don’t rub it in.  You are going to make me cry.  I asked why they did not go after him and the reason was they were holding elk tags, not deer.  The driver said they saw a few bucks in the pocket so they stopped to glass when the monster appeared.  According to them, he walked out deliberately and while taking exaggerated steps towards the other bucks began swinging his head right and left intimidating the others.  They quickly gave him room.  He was the bull for sure.  Both of the elk hunters agreed he had 36+ in spread and numerous kicker points.  Enormous body too.

colorado-deer-hunt-2007-015
Example of terrain

That night, the story was told in and around the tent camp and camp fire.  The next morning after hunting halfheartedly in another area, Gary and I went back for a closer look.  I showed him where I shot from and pointed out where the deer was running and also where it entered the heavy timber.  We hiked across the pocket and started aimlessly walking about looking for tracks.  Then Gary said something that caused my blood pressure to spike.  “Here’s blood!”

When I say blood, I mean blood.  Using GPS, from the spot of the first blood drop to where we lost the trail, it was 6/10 of a mile.  This was not a faint trail either.  You could walk fairly rapidly and steady following the trail.  The mountain side was a thicket of cedar and basically a beach underneath.  With the exception of scattered dead limbs, there were no weeds or grass under the shady canopy.  Clean sand.  Seeing blood was easy.  The trail angled upward, not steep, but a steady climb.  Splashes of blood were found here and there with occasional small pools about the size of a volleyball.  Near the end, the trail suddenly turned down hill for about 25 yards where we found one large pool of blood about the size of a welcome mat to your house.  I have never seen a deer of any kind at any place bleed this much.  That was the last drop we found. 

It is still a mystery and I think of it often.  Where did it go?  Did the elk hunters come back with their deer hunting buddies from their camp and recover it?  I doubt it since I never saw another human track.  I am confident I did not hit it in the body since it should have made the distinct sound of bullet striking flesh most hunters understand.  I believe the bullet cut it somewhere and severed a big vein.  It might have been its neck.  It might have been a flesh wound to the hams or maybe low in the brisket.   I am still miserable thinking about it.  When mule deer run they do not glide like they are on roller skates but bound up and down.  Think of a rubber ball bouncing down a hill and that about covers it.   When the bullet passed it could have been at the top or bottom of one of its bounds.

I do not believe the deer died from my shot.  The remainder of the hunt, two full days, I crisscrossed the mountain left and right above and below making ever widening circles looking for sign.  I kept a sharp eye out for magpies and ravens since they would go to a carcass and lead me to it if something was dead on that mountain.  I gave a fine tooth comb search of the area near the blood trail to as far as a mile away in all directions.  I am certain, after losing that much blood, the buck found a water hole somewhere, rested up and hopefully healed up.  I hate to think of a trophy of that caliber turning into coyote or black bear food.  I will never know and it still haunts me.

 

PS

I am sure there will be a few readers who will condemn me for shooting at a running deer.  This PS is an explanation/instruction on how it can be done successfully.

The night after I shot at the trophy mule deer, the other hunters in camp and I had a heated discussion about shooting at running deer.  Every one there assured me with a modern fast stepping rifle there was absolutely no need to lead a moving animal.  I am talking about weapons that shoot bullets in the 2,700 feet per second (fps) muzzle velocity range up to 3,200 fps.  This includes most modern deer cartridges such as the 243, 257, 25-06, 260, 270, 7mm-08, 280, 7mm mag., 308 and 30-06.  I was the sole person sitting around the camp fire saying it is necessary to lead with a rifle.  The following math proves it……………

When I was in high school, the fastest man on Weimar’s track team was Allan Anders.  He may have been the fastest man in Weimar’s history for all I know.  Back then, the measured distances in track meets were in yards and not meters and I can distinctly recall on several occasions he ran 100 yards in 10.0 seconds.  A couple of times he was in the high 9 second range but for this example, I will use the 10.0 seconds speed for 100 yards.

Now visualize a person flying along in the 100 yard dash.  In your mind’s eye, can you visualize a deer running along the side of that person?  My guess is even though a man is running as fast as he can, any deer could easily keep up with a casual lope.  Keep that thought.

If the person was running 100 yards in 10 seconds, then the following equation would be accurate:

100 yards in 10 seconds.

10 yards in 1 second.

1 yard in 1/10th of a second.

So a deer running at a casual lope will move 1 yard in 1/10th of a second.

Now let us use a very popular deer cartridge, the 270 Winchester, which I happened to be using that day.  I was using personally reloaded ammunition with 130 grain Speer Spitzer bullets with a muzzle velocity of 3,000 feet per second.  Let us do some more calculating. 

If the bullet travels 3,000 feet in one second, then it will travel 300 feet in 1/10th of a second.  300 feet equals 100 yards.  In real life, the second the projectile leaves the barrel it will immediately begin to loose velocity but to keep the math simple, I act as if the bullet keeps traveling the same speed as when it leaves the muzzle.

Now let us overlay the two examples of deer running speed to bullet speed.  It takes a 270 bullet 1/10th of a second to reach 100 yards.  If a deer is loping along at a right angle and is 100 yards away, then the lead has to be 1 yard in front of the animal to connect.  Those are facts.  Think of a loping deer and visualize putting a yard stick from just behind its shoulder to in front of its chest and that is where you must be aiming to hit the deer perfectly.

Prior to my first ever shot at a running big game animal, my dad’s best hunting buddy, Joseph Munhausen told me, “You can’t hit them unless you shoot and the more you shoot the better chance you have.”  That thought stuck in my young brain.  I was only 13 years old and was lucky enough to have my dad take me out to the Big Bend region of Texas.  I was high in the rugged Bofocillos Mountains in what is now Big Bend State Park.  We were on a lofty mesa and walked a short distance from the road to an enormous canyon called Lion Canyon.  Sheer cliffs and hazy distances gave me a slight feel of vertigo.  I was awestruck and distinctly recall vultures sailing along on the updrafts BELOW where I stood.  After taking in the beautiful scenery, my dad started picking up good sized rocks and began lofting them here and there causing crashing mini rock slides down the talus slopes beneath the rim rock we were perched on.  That unorthodox idea worked.  Up bounded a mature desert mule deer and he was in high gear in a blink of an eye.

All I have ever seen was skinny yearling white tails in South East Texas.  Here in front of me was a bounding broad backed slate grey mature mule deer buck bounding down the steep ridge.  To my young eyes, it was as big as an elk!  Remembering Mr. Munhausen’s words, I opened up.  I shot five times as fast as anyone has ever worked a bolt action weapon.  As soon as I saw deer anywhere in the scope I yanked the trigger.  I doubt I ever hit within 6’ of the running buck.  This caused me to pause and think.  I realized you have to AIM to hit a running animal.  It may be good to shoot fast but it has to be aimed shots.

I hunted that ranch for about 15 years.  The method was to cover as much ground as possible on a horse or mule. No glassing.  No spot and stalk.  Just riding and jumping bucks that were bedded down and once they took off, then piling off the horses and opening up at the running deer.  I quickly learned to lead or miss. It was fairly open country so you had the opportunity to shoot several times at each buck if necessary.  Seeing dust fly from my bullets impacting behind running deer gave me obvious clues to aim further in front of those bounding bucks.

Later I took several white tails running both in West Texas and on our home ranch near Columbus.  Here lately, I have had real good practice on running feral swine.  On one occasion, witnessed by my good friend Wayne Zimmerhanzel,  I shot 5 times with a semi-auto 308 in about 5 seconds.  The first shot was at a standing pig and the last four shots were running.  These were eating sized pigs about 20 pounds each. When the smoke cleared there were 4 dead animals.  I missed once.

So, the moral of this story is you DO have to lead with a rifle to hit running game.  Like a shot gun, the further away the animal is (or bird with the shot gun), the more you need to lead.  Remember to always keep the rifle swinging.  Never stop the swing just prior to shooting.

Here’s an idea.  Get an old tire and stick a cardboard insert inside the rubber.  Have a friend roll it down a steep hill.  Take a few shots at the bounding tire as it rolls past you.  An abandoned gravel pit would be the perfect location to practice.  You will see.  You must lead running game, even with a rifle.

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