As I stared at another spectacular Mexican sunset, I realized how fortunate I was to be here in Sonora. Without a doubt, I was in some of the finest hunting country anywhere in North America. My mind drifted off while I admired the solitude and beauty of the desert landscape. The bright ember colored reflections on the horizon as the sun was setting was inspiring and panoramic. As much as I tried to absorb the beauty of it all, my mind wandered into the past as it often does.

It was a few years back while tracking a big mule deer buck in Sonora's desert country. I found this particular buck's track during the early morning hours and instantly knew he was of giant proportions. The sheer size of his tracks was as big as I've ever seen in Sonora. The pursuit began while I tracked this same buck for two solid days over countless miles of desert terrain. He undoubtedly knew we were on his trail as he jumped from ranch to ranch while my guide and I relentlessly pursued . I expected to see him at any moment and believed I was just one step behind him, but that was not the reality of the situation. This buck kept a safe distance between us at all times. We stuck to his track and followed him as he wound through endless flats covered with Cholla cactus and picturesque Saguaros. The hot desert sun pounding on our heads seemed unforgiving as we moved on. At one point, the buck headed into several arroyos (washes) staying in the shade and cover and allowing him to put more distance between us. This buck obviously knew the land and was using it to his full advantage. Later, he took us into the mountain foothills but never actually climbed high enough to expose himself. He then backtracked and went west. He jumped into a huge desert arroyo as the sun began to set on us. He knew we would not follow as evening approached. Our disappointment was obvious as we walked to our vehicle.

The next morning we decided to give him another try and walked where we last saw his tracks. By complete accident and to our astonishment, we picked up his tracks about three miles from where we left him the evening before. It was amazing, he had backtracked that evening after he realized the threat from us was over. This buck defined the word elusive. The hunt was on again! We continued tracking him for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only the remainder of a long hot day. He crossed paths with other deer several times throughout the day, but continued on his own way. Later that afternoon he gathered up with a group of does and another buck of the same caliber, according to the tracks. The midday heat pounded us with harsh intensity since there was no breeze to cool the desert floor. I got to know that buck on a personal level. I could describe his track and stride, how he carried his weight, and even his droppings were intimately familiar to me. I learned to respect this animal and his elusive nature. His will to survive was as strong as my will to find him.

As the day progressed, I remember thinking that maybe I was being played like a pawn in the buck's methodical game of deception. I felt that he had somehow turned the tables on me and I didn't feel I had any control over the chain of events that were unfolding before me. Even so, we pressed on. That buck became more of a trophy to me with every step and mile I walked. I knew that only an old mature buck of colossal standards would be able to play out this game as he was doing. As we gave chase, the buck devoured, as nourishment, large quantities of barrel cactus fruit as he wandered on. By late afternoon we reached a clearing containing small sage and few trees for cover. I knew he was close. I could feel it. We slowed down and made as little noise as possible. Then we found a spot where the two bucks had sparred. There were deep ruts engraved in the dirt and clumps of Cholla cactus lying everywhere which provided positive evidence of his proximity. A few steps further I found a fresh broken tip of horn of approximately four inches in length lying on the desert sand, further enhancing my belief. We walked another 50 yards and saw him. He was bedded behind the shade of a small Palo Verde tree facing in our direction. I believe he was as astonished to see us as we were to finally catch up to him. With two giant diving leaps towards cover he was gone, and so was my opportunity to shoot. But what a thrill! He was a massive mid-30-inch buck with everything that makes a deer hunter's heart skip a beat. Though this buck does not grace my trophy room, his memory will always haunt me. I cannot say that I am too disappointed with the outcome. His desire to live was undeniable and he was deservingly victorious.

Experiences like these are what make the sport truly rewarding for us as hunters. Though I've spent countless hours chasing big mule deer in the Sonoran desert, I cherish every hunt equally. I haven't taken a trophy on every trip, but I always walked away with a great hunt experience. Trophies on the wall are great testimonies to our achievement, but being alive and in the company of family and friends is the true reward. The adventure and camaraderie of the hunt is what you will always carry inside you. In my opinion, the actual kill isn't necessarily the climax of the hunt and shouldn't be. Many hunters in their clouded pursuit to make the record book forget what hunting really is. Hunting is a gift bestowed on us by our ancestors since the inception of time. A treasure that many people throughout our great country never experience, nor care to. The chase is only a small part of the big picture. It's the bonds and friendships made that we as humans should focus on. These are the essential elements of the sport that we need to pass on to our children for future generations. In reality, what we will remember at the conclusion of our life's journey is the road traveled and not the final destination.

So if your quest to harvest a trophy mule deer or coues deer has been unattainable so far, consider hunting south of the border. Hunting in Mexico takes place throughout December and January, well after most seasons here in the U.S. have already closed. There are guaranteed licenses and permits so the need to draw is eliminated. The warmth and hospitality of the Mexican people will make you feel right at home. Combine this with great genetics and the possibility of seeing the buck of a
lifetime and you may not want to go home. You also may find your own mind wandering through the vast Sonoran desert as often as mine does. When that happens, you too will find yourself counting the days until your return to
this land of enchantment and beauty.