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Go where one is -  Find him when the hunt is on - Kill him when you find him

    Just last week I had a young man call me from California to tell me of his mule deer hunt this year. How he had seen a lot of deer and quite a few bucks, but none were over the 24-inch mark. Since he was after a better quality or a bigger size , he didn't shoot one. I told him that's more the norm (which is too bad). But he did get an A+ from me for not shooting something he didn't want just to fill his tag and "get his money's worth." In my book it takes a good man to do that. But I did remind him that here in Utah, a 24-inch mule deer is considered by the DWR to be a "big trophy" deer. Too bad they didn't get any input from all of us hunters on what we consider to be a trophy deer and what a premium hunting area is!

    In all my 40 years of hunting mule deer and being in some of the best mule deer spots in the whole world, I can think of only four bucks that I've seen with an outside spread over 40 inches. Considering everything in its proper place, that's probably more than my share. One of them (two years after I had seen him) was probably killed by a mountain lion because while I was hunting in the area, a young man was packing out a skull and horns he had found that morning. The head still had a little hide on it, but the horns were white. Twelve points on each side and 42 inches wide. Wow! What a buck! Close.....but no cigar. However, I have come to know that if a man has a strong enough desire and works for that dream to come true, amazing things usually happen. The dream comes true and he gets what he went after.

    Around 25 years ago, I had a mind-change that I was going to hunt for and shoot only trophy-class mule deer. The knowledge that I lacked to do this I would somehow acquire. Since I had been a hunter of birds, rabbits, squirrels, prairie dogs and other small game since I was six years old, I had a pretty good jump-start. They say that by the time a child is eight years old he has learned around 75 per cent of all the things he will learn the rest of his life. The other 25 per cent is just fine-tuning the subjects.

    Now, I had killed a few nice bucks, but never over 30 inches. All I needed was the fine-tuning. For the next five years or so, I started looking at all spots where big bucks were being killed. I spent many days learning the land layout and the honey holes, if you will, of each area. I put my whole heart and soul in being in the field hunting and scouting.

    As the years went by, one by one, all that hunting, scouting, tracking, running, and falling down started paying off in knowledge. Even though I had gotten it through the "school of hard knocks", it was mine to have and to use, however I wished to use it, for the rest of my life. It didn't matter what anyone else had to say about my world of hunting, my successes, or my style of hunting. I had complete confidence in myself and in my knowledge of knowing what I could and couldn't do. You see I have three little rules that I go by to be successful in killing Old Mister Big:

1. go where he is;
2. find him when the hunt is on; and
3. kill him when you find him.

    I don't care how good of a hunter you are, how much money you spend on all the "stuff", how lucky you are, how good a shot you are, or even how young or old you are. If you are not where a big buck is you are never going to kill one!

    A lot of time and money has been spent on pre-scouting an area, finding a big buck, and knowing the big buck is in the area, When it comes time to hunt him, however, a lot of hunters can never seem to get the job done (year after year). What happened to that big buck? Where in the world did he go?

    There are hunters who do a very good job of #1 and 2. Even a few who by no effort or thinking at all, will luck onto a big buck. Each will be given those magical three seconds, and will do nothing but "shoot holes in the sky". There is one thing I know for sure: If you plan on killing a big mule deer, (not a white tail, a mule deer), and you can't shoot off hand fast and hit something on a dead run at 20 feet a second, you, my friend, will kill very few big mule bucks.

    I can still remember some 20 years ago as if it were yesterday, when all three of my little rules came together and a 32" 4x4 was finally mine. I found a huge buck track around 11 o'clock one morning. He had come in for water during the night. It had rained the night before, so the tracking was easy. Now going through the "school of hard knocks", I knew that even though he was there, seeing him and getting a bullet in him was another story, especially in the thick PJs. Those big mule deer ears are not just there for looks and he hadn't gotten big by being stupid and always stopping to look back.

    Any hunter should know that generally this time of the day (most of the time) a big lone buck will be lying down. If you walk smart, think, come in at the right angle and keep your eyes and ears at 110 percent, Lady Luck should smile down on you and old Mr. Big could be yours.

    Well, none of these things happened. By the time I found where he had been lying down, he was up and on the run. I had set off all his bells and whistles. The jig was up. My chance of killing him had just dropped 75 percent on the first go. He and I locked horns for the rest of the day, each doing his best. He was trying to stay alive and I was trying to change that. For seven hours straight, I walked, stopped, listened, and used everything I knew to get just one shot off. I actually heard him three different times, and I even saw a dust trail he was leaving, but I could never quite get a look at him. He always seemed to be a jump or two ahead of me.

    But I was determined. I was always there, never quitting, never letting up, staying the course. It's these moments in time that a hunter lives for, dreams about, and hopes for. But it's also doing whatever it takes to get the job done. The goal is to make old Mr. Big part of your wall at home.

    One hour before dark, 10 miles from the truck, and ringing wet with sweat, I sat down on a canyon wall that I had just chased the big buck through. I picked up his tracks, 20 feet apart, heading down and out the other side. I remember thinking, "This time he's been to hell and gone. I'm getting really tired. I'm a long way from the truck, it's going to be dark soon, and I'm in a whole new area that I've never hunted before." I was getting discouraged. As I sat on that rock drinking my can of Squirt and eating the Snicker Bar from my fanny pack, I remember thinking; "Oh, what the heck, let's run this to the last rays of light."

    As I crossed the canyon, Lady Luck smiled on me because I had stayed the course. Old Mr. Big had made a wrong turn and went out on a dead end point. I knew I still had my work cut out for me, but a smile came on my sweaty face, and new life sprang up in my legs. This was the moment that I had worked so hard for. This was the start of a quest for a big muley buck. Let's do it.

    The tracks in the sand said he went that way! With new life and a setting sun, I had no time to waste. There was a small hill that rose up a little higher than all the rest. As I topped it, I heard him. Then I saw him for the first time since 11 a.m. Old Mr. Big was 400 yards away right on the rim of a 300- foot canyon wall. I had no problem seeing horns, but he was too far for a good shot. I knew he was trying to  double back on me, so I ran with every thing I had to the other side of the mesa.

    For once I beat him there, turning him back and out onto a little sliver of land on the bigger point. The little sliver had a high and low point. Looking at the tracks, I realized that the big buck had taken the low point, so I took the high point. I remembered the low point was very open with only a few PJs . The high point had quite a few PJs, so I zig zagged through the trees to the 300-foot rim. I made it back where I could see the low point. As I came out on a little rock ledge, right under me, no more than 40 yards, out ran old Mr. Big. Moments later I walked up to this awe-some buck 10 miles from nowhere.

    I can't explain how it felt. But I know it was as good as winning the gold in the Olympics. He was a straight four on both sides, heavy horned with a 32- inch outside spread. Since that day some 20 years ago, I have had an exceptional life of hunting big mule deer.

-----> Part 2 - Find out what it took to be part of the "40 inch" club