Glassing

 

Archery Reflection - January 2011

Spring is starting to bloom in its annual resurrection of new life from winter's death.  Wildflowers and green-up are appearing; antlers are one by one falling to the ground to return nutrients to the source that sustained their growth the year before.  Amorous turkeys are calling for companions and soon calves and fawns will drop in meadows. 

It's a convenient time for reflection - for the introspective it's almost mandatory.  Perhaps the 23rd Psalm was written in spring.

Last January I had the privilege to pursue Javelina and Coues deer with my bow.  I was unsuccessful in harvesting either one, though I came quite close to both.   Close, however, is too often the excuse for an empty freezer.

I saw more big bucks this season than I ever have.  This is the largest buck that I have personally seen in the field.  I was 100 yards from him three different times.  Close, yet so far. 

 

White Flags in the Tall Grass: Part IV

View from the Sky Islands

After watching Jon and Joe take two great bucks, and just watching Mike drop a buck in his tracks, I was ready to put the crosshairs on a buck of my own. After hiking up to take some pictures with Mike’s deer, Joe and I decided to keep hunting for another deer for the rest of the day.

 I was semi-determined to at least explore around if nothing else. I have this bad habit of wandering as some may call it- I like to call it getting to know the lay of the land. However, this need to explore often leads to many long days and later nights. Whenever I hunt a new area, I like to explore because to me I get to discover something new, see something I have never seen before, and oftentimes find the magic spot in the process.

Sitting in the glass - this is Coues hunting!

I was glad to have Joe with me on our afternoon walk-a-bout as it provided another set of eyes and good company. By mid-day we found ourselves making our way up a canyon toward the highest point we could reach in the range we were hunting.  Along the way we jumped a peccary who was feasting on a patch of prickly pear in a small close quarter ravine. He jumped out right under our feet and stopped at fifteen yards; dropping his hard earned succulent to let out a snort-grunt as awkward as his miss proportioned body. It was the first time I had ever seen one up close and by the way he acted I think the encounter was mutual. He seemed as surprised and curious as we were.

We continued up the mountain seeing only a few small bucks and does. We passed some of the best looking country I had seen all trip including a few pockets we figured had seen very little hunting pressure. We tried a push in one of the pockets to see if we could bump out a well hidden buck, but all it availed were a few does. We felt that the push was enough to scare any close deer out of hiding and did not garner a patented Mike Marchese warning shot.

Remi ready for the long pack out.

We continued on to the top curious to see what was over the next rise. When we reached the top we setup and started glassing. I spotted a few does over 800 yards away and watched them feed around a small tree cluster. I continued to glass for a buck but nothing materialized. I looked back at the does to see if they were still there and to my surprise there were now three bucks right where the does had been standing. As I watched, different bucks would appear and disappear. It was hard to keep track of them as they seemed too appear and vanish out of thin air. After watching for a while I concluded that there were at least five or six different bucks including one decent 4x4 buck. He was a neat deer but I wanted to look around more and decided to pass on him.

Check out how the main beams wrap outwards!

Knowing it was going to get dark on our way out, I took advantage of our elevation and plotted a way back to the truck. From our vantage point we could see that the wash we were above weaved its way through the cactus covered flats back to where our truck was parked. This would make it easier to navigate the long distance back to the truck in the dark, just as long as there were no surprise cliffs or illegal immigrants hiding out deciding to improvise an ambush for our guns and food.

The sun was starting to set so Joe and I decided to head down the mountain before it got too late. As we descended I spotted a couple of bucks across the canyon. One looked pretty good. We decided to get a closer look since it was on our way. Once we got down to their level we setup the spotting scope to tried and relocate them. The sun was starting to go down and the hill the deer were on was covered in shadows. It was hard to pick the bucks out again.

Good to have a camera with a flash for night time photos!

 Once we re-spotted the deer we were able to get a better look. The bigger of the two bucks looked pretty good. He had long main beams, decent tines, and was the largest deer we had seen the whole trip. Joe watched the deer through the spotting scope as I moved up to a spot where I could lay down and look through the rifle scope at the buck who was 500 yards away.

Joe asked if I was going to shoot him. I said “no” figuring we were running out of light with a possibility of not finding him in the dark. Joe told me that he was on the buck and suggested that I take him. I debated for a while and wanted to make sure that if I was going to pull the trigger the deer would drop. I did not want to wound a deer just before dark.

I put my 500 yard mark on the buck and knew that I was steady enough to make an ethical shot. At this point I decided that I was going to take the deer. However, I am not sure I relayed this thought to Joe, who was watching behind me in the spotting scope.

I steadied my breath, took careful aim, and squeezed the trigger. The buck instantly dropped in his tracks and began rolling down the mountain. I made my way across the canyon as Joe kept an eye on where the buck had stopped rolling. It was going to be near dark by the time I got to the buck but Joe was able to walk me right in to where the deer was laying.

We took some pictures and boned the deer out for the long pack back to the truck. It was definitely close to five miles and several hours over unfamiliar terrain back to the truck. Fortunately following the wash worked out for us and lead us back to where we were parked.  We rolled into camp late that night. The glowing fire and warm food back at camp was a welcome sign. Fresh tenderloin for the third day in a row combined with Jon’s amazing potatoes and pork chops were the perfect ending to a long day. We all sat around the fire sharing stories of the trip and regaling in our success. We had all tagged out on great bucks and done so in only three days. All-in-all it was a great trip spent with great friends.

 

White Flags in the Tall Grass: Part III

My name is Mike Marchese and I love Sporks: spike by forks. After Joe shot his buck Jon and I decided to go after the non-typical spork (he was sick) while Remi and Joe boned out Joe’s deer.

Jon and I worked our way over the ridge when I spotted the buck. I watched him walk behind a small bush and never saw him come out. I told Jon where the buck was and he suggested that I walkover there to see if we could find him. “Screw that” I said, the deer was only two hundred yards away. Then a light bulb turned on, “I am going to take a warning shot!” before Jon could ask what that was I blasted a rock with the .284 up the canyon. The percussion from the rock was almost louder than the shot itself. I figured that should get the buck out of hiding, however, nothing materialized. To this day I have no clue how that deer just straight up and vanished.

Mike surveys the land as Remi and Joe hike up.

I thought the warning shot was hilarious and quite fun to me but Jon was less than impressed. I could not help from laughing the rest of the trip every time I thought about it.

The next day we started glassing in the same spot where we started the first day. After a few minutes Remi had spotted a group of bucks with a nice wide three point in the mix. The deer were feeding on a cactus covered hillside as me and Jon moved in. We moved our way up the canyon to a small rock outcropping 250 yards from where the deer were last seen. When we got there we saw three bucks on the hill, but the one buck that we were looking for was not there.  The next minute seemed like an eternity as we both scanned the cactus covered terrain, then all of sudden the buck we wanted stepped out from behind a giant octotillo plant.  Jon quickly ranged him and said 200 yards, I then settled the cross hairs down on his shoulder only to find his nose nestled into it.  I wanted to shoot, but Jon convinced me to wait – as soon as his head turned bang!!  By the time I was reloaded and had my gun back on him he was hanging from a cactus that he had accidently ran into.

As the buck lay - suspended in Staghorn Cholla.

This was by far the best stalk of the hunt so far because from start to finish it was roughly 10 minutes.  This was much to the pleasure of the spectators with the spotting scopes, so that they didn’t have to sit on a freezing hillside forever and wait.  After Jon and I made it to the deer Joe and Remi quickly followed so that we could do a full picture shoot.  Once that was complete, Remi and Joe went on their way Jon and I were left to do the dirty work.  In no time flat we had the deer in the packs, and were on our way back to meet Hans who was more than ready to go back to camp have a cold one, shoot some quail, and suffer through yet another night of tenderloins.

Hammin' it up on another poor'boy sheep hunt in AZ!

Mike shows how the Washoe Valley boys do it: Short, Sweet, and to the Point!

White Flags in the Tall Grass: Part II

 Bang Plop (by Joe Dibble)

Glassing: the Essential Practice of Couesin'

On the second morning I was particularly excited because we were headed to Jon's proverbial "honey hole". This was officially my second day of coues deer hunting. We had seen plenty of deer yesterday and still had three tags to fill!

Jon, Remi, Mike and I walked in early while Hans held down the fort back at camp. It was abnormally cold for our area again (20 degrees), and the wind now gusting in our face made glassing the distant hills more difficult. This didn’t seem to bother Remi, however, who spotted three bucks fighting on a low hillside over a thousand yards away. The trio entertained him with some great sparring (and a few cheap shots) while the rest of us found them and we determined our intent. One of the the deer was a shooter and they were in a huntable spot.

“You’re up” Remi proclaimed looking in my direction, so Mike and I packed up our gear and headed down for a “closer look”. We soon found ourselves basically right on top of the deer (bow-hunters these guys) set up prone under a scrub oak trying to get the video camera to work before taking the shot. Yet again, the many years of higher education between us kicked in like instinct and enabled us to find the ‘on’ button - shortly after the biggest buck decided to cease standing broadside in the wide open and disappear into a grove of mesquite trees. Comedy! 

Joe's fantastic 2010 Coues buck

As a consolation Mike got some great footage of the small non-typical buck before we sneaked around to get a better angle on the mesquite grove. We re-positioned ourselves further to the west, inside of 125 yards, but could still not see our target. Luckily, as we turned to leave, Mike glanced back just as our buck stood up and stepped out. The buck walked down the hill far enough for us to confirm that it was in fact the bigger deer, then re-bedded (this time with his body exposed) only 110 yards away.

The shot was pretty simple ... shoot off my Stix, in a gusty cross-wind, through a pizza slice-sized gap between a cluster of waving ocotillo branches. Just like at the range baby! This seemed to make Mike - the voice of reason on this mission - increasingly uncomfortable. He was doing his best to convince me to get even closer when grandpa’s 30-06 recoiled into my shoulder. The buck laid over, kicked a few times and went still. 

I must admit I needed to come to terms with the “portion distortion” created from hunting bigger mule deer. But, it did not take long at all to realize what all the fuss was about, and fall in love with hunting the tiny coues species. They are the sports car of the deer kind...sleek, beautiful and very challenging to harvest. I am so proud of my trophy, the first big game animal I have brought home in many many years. Tenderloins and potatoes on the menu again with a side of two more tags to fill tomorrow. Can’t wait! 

The intent of this photo was to show the camaraderie amongst the hunters, but it looks more like a scene from the Sound of Music - the hunting edition.

White Flags in the Tall Grass: Part I

Our Campsite

Opening morning finds me up early and driving to the rifle range for one last check on the weapon and scope.  The first thing I notice is that its unreasonably cold and windy, but I fling some lead anyways, probably to calm the nerves more than anything.  I have a lot of packing to do before I pick up my father at Sky Harbor at noon.  Mike and Joe should be driving in around 5 pm, and then Remi lands close to 7 pm.  

The packing takes longer than I expect, despite having packed nearly identical gear lists for any number of previous trips.   I am excited.   So excited in fact, I haven't eaten or showered yet, and its now time to drive to the airport.  I grab a snack and get in the truck.

It's good to see my dad again as I pull alongside the curb of the airport.  True to tradition he already has indulged in his annual tobacco allowance and offers me a dip.  Smiling I decline, but we compromise on finding a watering hole and partaking of some frosty libations.  We catch up on the details of our lives from the past several months and discuss the anticipation of the coming hunt.  The food was hot, the beers were cold, the company grand. This was going to be a great hunt!

Mike and Joe arrived later and between the four of us we put our collective 15 years or so of engineering education to use to try and fit our gear into two pick up trucks.  We were nearly successful until we realized that there was still Remi and his gear that needed to be added to hap-hazard caravan that would've looked more appropriate coming north from Mexico than it did heading south towards the border.  Some rearranging and a quick shower and we were off to the airport one last time to pick up our final compadre.

Four hours later and we're driving a dirt road towards the camp site.  Its amazing how things look different at night when you're the only one who knows where to go.  We hastily set up camp in the dark and it is freezing cold.  Remi just spent the last 3 months in the ice box of Montana, where the daily highs were in the teens.  When I saw him shiver I knew it wasn't just me - it was really cold.  Perfect weather for deer hunting,  poor weather for sleeping, though with the excitement building I didn't figure on catching much sleep anyways.

Dawn breaks frigid and clear, with only the faint touches of color that come from a sunrise after a still night in the desert.  We're running a few minutes later than I had hoped, but we are together: four rifles, four tags, five good friends.  This is going to be a fantastic hunt.  Single file we walk up the back of a hill from which we will glass for deer.  I can only imagine how suspicious this train of people wearing backpacks and dark clothing must look to any of the Border Patrol agents in the area. 

My Buck and Another Eating from a Barrel Cactus.

We pause for a minute before reaching the summit to catch our breath and survey the surroundings.  Mike points to the adjacent bowl and comments about how this is really good deer country when suddenly a buck busts out of the draw below us and runs up the opposite side of the bowl.  The white flag of its tail is thrown up and I can see the frame of a good buck as it skylines momentarily before disappearing over the other side.  Suddenly there are more deer, bucks - four of them, following the first in like manner, long, white tails thrown up and waving side to side, standing out in such stark contrast against the ocotillo and prickly pear hillside that even a blind man would be able to spot them.  Mike and I both chamber a round and follow the deer as they disappear, but neither of us shoot.  We quickly run to the ridge and relocate the deer as they continue to run through the draws and ravines of the mesquite country and up towards a large open hill side. 

After a little while the bucks calm down and begin to feed out in the open about a 1000 yards away.  We settle down behind the glass and spend some time looking over the bucks and discussing possible plans of stalking in on them.  There are at least two shooters in the group, and one in particular that catches my attention.  I intended on taking a mature representative of the species, viz. a three point with eyeguards and a basket frame.  This buck was exactly what I was looking for.  After some discussion, Remi and Joe aren't interested in pursuing these bucks for the first day of the hunt, so Mike and I decide to head after them.  Mike generously allows me the first shot.

The bucks bed down for the morning while Mike and I work our way into some rocks about 300 yards away from the deer.  After relocating the buck I wanted, I got set up using a backpack laid on top of a rock for the rest.  After hours of reloading and shooting, spending time trying to memorize the ballistics for my rifle, I really felt that I could make the shot.  I set the horizontal post of my scope's reticle to where I could just barely see daylight above the buck's back, figuring that should accommodate the 6 inch drop that my bullet would sustain over the shot distance.  I work into the trigger pull, focusing on my breathing.  One final breath, let it halfway out, first pad of the index finger on the trigger, squeezing... the rifle cracks loud in the morning quiet and I momentarily lose the buck from the recoil.  But there is no tell-tale echo of an impact.  I missed! 

Camp Chef and the Griddle

Fortunately, the buck is none-the wiser, jumping up from his bed and looking around confused.  I chamber another round and settle back into the rest but the buck begins to feed now, and I don't have a shot.  This continues for some time, until the buck is satisfied with his breakfast of barrel cactus fruit and beds down behind a large yucca plant.  Mike and I reconvene to discuss our present options.  The buck has now bedded in a spot conducive to a very close stalk that I elect to take, while Mike hangs back at 200 yards to help guide me in to shooting position.  The stalk will take me straight up the hillside directly at the buck to a rock outcropping that should put me within 80 yards of the deer.  Its a risky stalk, but the wind is right and because of the the angle of the hill I will be concealed from the buck the whole way.

As I reach the rock outcropping from where I anticipate getting a crack at the buck I pause to try and relocate the deer.  After a few minutes I can pick out an antler and an ear from behind the yucca.  I am close now, but I still have no shot.  The wind has become finicky, and I realize if I try to wait the buck out I will probably get winded and the angle for the shot will be poor.  If I can gain another 20 yards I should be in a better position to take the shot when it comes.  Being a bowhunter at heart I have no hesitation in trying to cut 80 yards down to 60 or less, though this is typically where most of my stalks fall apart.  I quickly take my boots off and set them aside to try and close the last bit of distance in my socks.  I wonder if everyone else is as amused with this decision as I am.  Why use a rifle if you're still going to try and get within bow distance? 

The first fifteen yards are easy.  I am getting very close to having an angle that will present a shot.  I can now see the back of the buck's head and a portion of his neck.  His ears bat back and forth, and periodically a shaft of sunlight will glint on an antler.  The wind is swirling now, and the last five yards are thick with vegetation and steep.  The deer is suddenly wary, alert, and stands up.  I shoulder the rifle just as the deer steps forward - right behind the bush.  I can't see the buck's body, only the outline of his back.  Three times I commence the trigger squeeze, trying to talk myself into shooting through the bush.  Its a light bush I say to myself.  The buck is only 60-65 yards away, the bullet should have no problem punching through at that distance.  But I hesitate, there is just too much that could go wrong with the shot.  As if the deer can hear my thoughts it now turns and begins to run up the hill.  There are several ocotillo between us now, and I swing ahead of the buck's gate trying to find a shooting lane only to arrive there too late as buck passes through.  We're close to the summit of a ridge and I realize that if I'm going to get a shot I'm going to have to move, and move fast.

I begin to run, still in my socks, after the buck, catching a glimpse as he crests the ridge.  I arrive there shortly after, looking frantically for the deer.  There is grass and rocks, mesquite trees and ocotillo, but no deer.  There's too much country for the deer to have covered already, but I can't find him anywhere.  Suddenly, I catch movement in my periphery.  Tucked low in some ocotillo about 80 yards away the buck is trying to sneak away, with his head low to the ground.  I shoulder the rifle and fire.  I hear the impact echo back as the buck kicks and begins to run.  Another round runs through the Ruger's action and I shoulder the rifle again finding the buck in the scope and swinging through his body trying to match the buck's pace.  As soon as my vertical post disappears into the edge of the buck's front shoulder I fire again.  The buck lunges forward, his white tail flagging frantically as his front legs buckle and he collides with the ground disappearing into the tall grass not much more than a football field away.     

  

My 2010 Coues Deer Buck

 I begin to walk back towards my boots where I will meet up with Mike.  I am suddenly aware of how many cactus spines I've acquired in the soles of my feet, but the pain is irrelevant in light of the success of harvesting my first Coues deer.   A three year quest came to fruition on the first morning of the hunt, with an off hand shot at a running buck less than 100 yards away.  It was entirely different than the long distance prone shot with spotters that I had anticipated, but I couldn't complain.  There would be a beautiful set of polished basket rack antlers waiting for me on the other side of the ridge; tenderloins and Crown Royal on ice would welcome us back at camp.  My dad was able to witness me take a buck again for the first time in over 8 years.  I had great friends to help me, and they still had tags to fill.  This was going to be a fantastic hunt.

From Left: My Dad, Mike, Remi, Joe, and Myself

My Dad and Mike Enjoying the Fruits of Victory

Success and a Preview

Here are some teaser photos - I'll get the stories up later.  Great hunt!